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FLASH FICTION: Romance Writers Weekly

FLASH FICTION: Romance Writers Weekly

Romance Writers Weekly

FLASH FICTION: Romance Writers Weekly

NOTE: This is reblogged from my Lovextra.com site!

Welcome to the Tuesday Romance Writers Weekly blog hop. This week, we’re all about flash fiction! Did you come by way of Brenda Margriet (author of Chef d’Amour and Mountain Fire)  http://www.brendamargriet.com/blog? Welcome!

Multi-talented romance author J.J. Devine (historical, paranormal… the woman does it all!) offered us this challenge:


It’s been awhile since we’ve done a Flash Fiction so let’s do this again. Give me a scene of 500 words that contain the words, happiness, egg, and purple.


I know what you’re thinking: Easter. Easter Eggs. My first thought too. But then this memory from someone else’s childhood came to me (I live an inauthentic life) and I realized I had to share this story:

As all stories should begin, except for those which don’t, Once Upon a Time there was an egg. Was it purple? Only its hairdresser knew for sure. Once thing we know about this egg: it was replete with happiness.

Many questions come to mind when one is greeted with a potentially purple egg, replete with happiness.

  • Egg? Which species?
  • Hard or soft shelled? An unecessary question, as the previous will have answered this.
  • Purple? Where on the spectrum? Or are we talking violet? There is no real purple, doncha know? Violet. Indigo. That’s kinda it. That which we call purple is really violet. If only our eyes were less aqueous.
  • Happiness? Perpetual or relative? Can one be happy without correlative sorrow?

It was then that the egg realized that she was wasting time with rhetorical questions and she should really just write the book.


 

Once upon a time there was a man in love with a crazy cat lady (curiously named Mathilda — although she could not waltz, she was most desirous of the skill). He knew the way to her heart was through her cat. So he visited her many times bearing kitty gifts. Mini pom poms, feathers, little bells. Mathilda was a tad obtuse, due to low self-esteem fostered by her not being able to waltz (not knowing how to waltz can be psychologically debiltating, don’t judge) and didn’t realize the guy was interested in her. She thought he was just some dishy dude in the friend zone who love her silky Maine Coon, Lucy.

lucy
Lucy

Lucy was wallowing in it though and never once misdirected in aide of her mistress. Naughty thing.

One day, the guy (oh yeah, his name was Ronald) had an epiphany. He realized that while he would bring something for the woman’s cat, he would make the message less difficult to discern. Finding a purple (to indicate his sexual yearning) pot of cat grass, he stumbled naked, save for his drawers covering his face (the man had some pride), to Mathilda’s home.

I will leave how he rang the bell to your imagination.

Mathilda opened the door to see a mostly-nude Ronald bearing cat grass and sporting recently clipped toenails. She always appreciated a man of grooming.

“Ronald,” she said. “Have you come for me, or my pussy?”

“Both,” he replied, his voice husky with love and something else.

Mathilda whipped his boxer-briefs from his head. Their eyes met, drinking in each other’s souls. Lucy, greatly vexed, meowed at the door, keen for a nibble of that sweet sweet cat grass Ronald bore.

“Come inside, my love,” beckoned Mathilda, pulling Ronald into the vestibule before her irritating neighbours took any more photos. She closed the door behind them, with her bottom, and leaned artfully onto the door.

Lucy’s mews grew louder. “I believe you have something for the both of us,” she added, chanelling her inner 80’s Kathleen Turner.

In lieu of empty words, Ronald mashed his lips onto Mathilda’s whilst artfully (and simultaneously… he had very long arms, being a tall fellow also blessed with large *cough* feet) placing the pot of cat grass onto the floor. His desire pressed against her like a battering ram which sounds a bit vile but really, it was terribly sexy.

“My darling,” he murmured, affecting a French accent. “Come with me to zee Casbah.”

The End.

Yeah, I found this on Canstock. Can you believe it? Awesomesyrup!
Ronald, at once hiding, yet indicating his love.

 

Well that was very silly.

Next stop is J.J. Devine who issued our challenge this week: http://definingjjdevine.weebly.com/ramblings-of-a-writer

Thanks for joining us!

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