flash fiction friday #12
so after an unanticipated lovely start in my new space, tragedy struck (so lovely it was lovely in spite of early plumbing issues) in an again strangely silver-lined repetition of fate.
back in d.c. a pardner call and say he broke his glass pipe- it was on a wooden folding tv table, he'd recently moved from a place with different flooring, tried to drag the table over and the leg caught in grout, pipe rolled off onto tiles and broke- did i want to come shopping for a new one? i saw one i loved as we got to the case and after he chose his, talked myself into getting it and a small blue+white streaked bubbler for relatively cheap; decided to keep them clean so i could bring them home to sweet trini, which wasn't too far off.
started using my gorgeous glass pipe when i got home april2008, was waiting for an occasion to break out the bubbler. i just moved into a place with different floors and tried to drag a wooden folding tv table the pipe was on, leg caught on a tile and my pipe rolled off and broke on the floor. the other irony: i was dragging the table to set up to fix 2 other pieces of paraphernalia broken in the move. but settling into my new place alone was perfect timing to break out the bubbler.
the aforementioned moving being why i didn't fff (#11: block, clock, frock, rock, flock), i also chose not to read+comment yet because i still want to do #11 and don't want to be influenced. so for flash fiction friday #12 i'ma try to use #11's trigger too.
real shit to talk post-fff, so lewwe wash foot and jump in- inclusion clause trigger again, only 'cause i was too tickled when it came to wait a week:
prick, flick, trick, slick, thick
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for fff triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusion clauses, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55am friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).
you may join in at any time prior to the deadline.
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whatever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.
write fresh!
walk good.
posted by sweet trini @ 11:59 am
7 comments
7 Comments:
and i in.
and shite about your piece nah. that suck something awful.
i never sure enough to say so early (hate to break my word) but i think i set myself up with this week's intro, so...in...walk good.
wow- done, not just writing, but posting, early, and had a blast writing. good way to start the week. walk good.
lise say she couldn't get her fff to post, so i trying. she say:
after many weeks of sticking... here is mine. thanks for continuing, e.
ps, this is pretty raw.
Lisa Allen-Agostini
She wants me to write a porno. It has to be. Why else would she post the triggers: prick, flick, trick, slick, thick.
So I started the game she wanted to play.
There in the dark there was nothing but silence until our bodies met in a gasp and a wave of motion. I reached out for his belly, brushed my hand against his hard prick by accident. It jumped towards my hand, satin, steel and heat-seeking. Nothing in the world felt quite like it.
But no. That felt wrong. It was porno but it was too elegant. Those words were fighting words. There was no poetry implied in the list she had presented. The only one missing was lick.
My tongue is lightning on his lips. Flick/lick and move away. Sometimes I bite. But not often, and not hard. This is about seduction, not punishment. Though at times he might ague different.
Hmm. That might work for an opening graph. A little short but nice rhythms and the textures were good. Almost like the lover I have in my imagination. Which reminded me of something. I tried a different approach.
“Let me show you a trick,” I told him. He smiled but I could see the panic in his gaze. He was new to this and the word trick meant magic cards and practical jokes. He had no context for juxtaposing the word trick with the tray of ice and the bottle of honey I had placed next to the bed. “Close your eyes,” I told him. At least he was obedient.
I was starting to enjoy this game. I wondered what she would do with the triggers, if she would have as much fun with them as I was. I briefly considered the possibility that maybe, perhaps, just maybe, she wasn’t making erotica with the trigger words she had supplied to us in her flash fiction Fridays group. I wondered about other passages she could make.
“You’ll feel a little prick,” said the nurse to the child on the bed. Susie had fainted at school and woken in the hospital. The nurse was drawing blood from a vein in her arm. Susie felt the stick of the needle, more of a pinch than a prick, really, and then the nurse released the rubber tie around Susie’s arm with a practiced flick of her fingers. She’d felt little or nothing through it all. “That’s slick,” Susie thought. “I wonder if I could learn that trick.” Then Susie wondered if they would test her blood for drugs. And what they would do to her if they did. A drugs test would unearth her secret, so poorly kept. Susie looked the definition of a junkie. If her mother wasn’t so thick she would have seen it long ago. “Thank heaven for thick mothers,” Susie thought, looking for an exit. It was time for her fix.
Well, that was interesting. But not for me. Now I want this. I want to finish my story using this list in a way that satisfies me. Maybe in more ways than one.
It was always his voice that did her in. His raspy, subdued voice wasn’t what you would expect to turn a woman on. In fact, he sounded normal. Just a guy. Nothing special. But somehow, every time she hung up after a conversation with him, there was a slick, clear streak in her panties. He made her wet without even trying, without even knowing that he did.
Crap. No matter how I tried to be coarse I couldn’t do it. Damn literary language! Sneaking into my porn and corrupting it! Who said I wanted erotica? Give me wet pussies and hard cocks, none of this elegant illusion. I wished I could write sex, red in tooth and claw. The way I like it.
It wasn’t long but it was thick and she had to make him go slow or he would rip her in two. Mightn’t be a bad idea, just for the shit of it, but she might need her pussy tomorrow, so she thought her hand on his hip as a reminder was the way to go.
Okay, that’s the one. That’s it, right there. That’s the one I’m going to finish. Inhaling, I smelled how well I could use my imagination.
fuck! lise! i love your fff! damn. reading that was worth having a huge string band of comments in a row all from me on this post. love. it. thanks. fff more often. walk good.
a lack of power in the apartment over the weekend ruined my opportunity to fff. i'll get it done this week.
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