Thursday, August 18, 2011

#RomanticFridayWriters #Fridayflash - The Prince and Princess of Darkness for the New Horizons challenge.

Romantic Friday Writers is a blogfest every Friday co-ordinated by myself and Francine Howarth. It is a fun event, showcasing the work of many fine writers who write romantic flash fiction or poetry under 400 words. Click on the icon in my sidebar or the link at the end of my post to check out others participating today or join the blogfest yourself. You will be most welcome. We are also found on twitter. We are @RFWER A winner is awarded the recognition of being the week's Featured Writer.

#Fridayflash is a group of writers who write flash fiction under 1,000 words every Friday to no particular theme. Click on the #Fridayflash icon in my sidebar if you want to access more stories.  

My story today has been given new life from its first appearance as a twisted fairytale with a paranormal bent. I've cut it by half but hope I've still kept the edgy element.

The Prince and Princess of Darkness

‘Cindy, don’t go!’
‘I’m 18 years old! I’ll do what I want! I’m off to explore new horizons.’
Philomena and Persephone were thoroughly alarmed at Cindy’s outfit for the Prince of Darkness party – black, black and more black.
‘Cindy, this rave will be dangerous. There’ll be party drugs...’
‘What are you worried about girls? You’ve spent years working me like a slave while you had all the fun. Now it’s my turn to party. Nothing’s going to stop me now.’
Her stepsisters recoiled, horrified. Here was a stranger in silk and net, black beads, black stockings, black stilettos, black gloves…
‘What’ll we tell mother?’
‘Nothing. She’s always wanted me dead so there’ll be no problem.’
‘If you think I’m worried about your mother, forget it. My mum’s the only one I answer to.’
‘But your mum’s…’
‘Dead? You’d be surprised how helpful she can be.’
On the subway Cindy shrugged off the sniggering looks. She chatted to her mum. She’d visited her grave that afternoon. The little white dove that perched on the headstone had a note for her: ‘Come to the Prince of Darkness party! Best-dressed prize! A date with the Prince!’
When Cindy arrived the bouncers ushered her in like she was a foreign princess. She knew she looked amazing in her floaty black dress and sparkling black jewels.
The party was pumping when she entered the cave-like room. Everyone gazed at her, admiration on their faces. The Prince, who she saw leaning over the atrium, flew down the stairs and took her hand, leading her in the dance.
Cindy was puzzled. ‘Why, Prince, are you dancing with only me? There are many girls who are dying to dance. I see it in their eyes.’
‘Exactly, my princess. Their eyes are already dead, while yours blaze with light.’
‘Please not for much longer, my Prince.  I came for my date with Death.’
‘Is that what you want, my princess? To be with me forever after?’ He kissed her neck.
‘That is what I want my Prince. Mortal life has nothing for me.’
The Prince knelt before her, removing her stiletto with its razor-sharp heel.
She welcomed his steely embrace and his lingering kisses. She hardly felt it when he pierced her neck with her heel.
Smart Prince. So much easier than biting.
She swooned at his hot breath as he tasted her divine life source.


Word count 400. FCA.


Friday, August 12, 2011

#RomanticFridayWriters /#FlashFriday - On Top of the Mountain

On Top of the Mountain

On top of the mountain was where she wanted to be—leaving behind all her insecurities and unhappiness, her confusion over Tod.

The climb had been hard but the view Paradise.

She twirled round and round like a ballerina then fell in a dizzy heap.

‘Woops!’ She giggled, bathed in blue sky.

She was first.

She never got to be first.

She wasn’t even first with Tod. She knew he’d chosen her because she looked like his first girlfriend.

But today was the best day of her life.

Her confusion was lifting like the clouds on the mountain.

She’d hurried ahead of the walking group even though it was naughty. She was sick of their whining. Sure, it’d been a long climb but what did they expect? All the way from St Jean Pied de Port to this splendid mountain in Spain. What a pilgrimage. What a way to start over.

It was Roderick who riled her big time. He’d been a pain from day one, complaining about everything—the food, the weather, the organisation. 700 kilometres to go til they reached Santiago de Compostela. How could they put up with Roderick for that long? 

She was surprised the guide, Rafe, hadn’t sent him packing. But Rafe wouldn’t.  He was the nicest guy. She wished it was just her and Rafe, the two of them together. Wouldn’t that be cosy?

Ah Rafe. She pictured his built body, muscled by years of climbing. She pictured his black curls flopping over his eyes. How she’d love to twirl her fingers through those curls!

She put her water bottle aside and took in the blue sky, the mountain range, the haloes of whispy clouds.  But she was drawn to the valleys made dark by black shadows. What was it that made her always look down? Did she always have to see the dark side?

She breathed in slowly, savouring the moment. Ah, to be first at last! Would Rafe be impressed?

She heard grunting behind the scraggly bush where she’d propped herself.  

She moved the leaves aside and peered closer. She felt a clunk as her heart wound to a stop. Lying spreadeagled, a head wound gushing blood was that whiner, Roderick.

‘Hey, Ciara what have you found?’ Rafe had arrived.

She shook her head. The cloud was choking her.

She never got to be first.