Today’s piece is a bit different from my norm, and was a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy a bit of a change of pace.
Today’s Prompt:I woke up feeling the burden of love burning in my chest. The tingles—the excitement. It all makes me sick.
Today’s Story:
The Mark
As I watched him move, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. This was just getting worse and worse. I would not let it happen to me. It couldn’t. He was a mark. Someone I was sent to con. Sides… there was no way I was ever falling in that trap. After his lights went out, I curled up to sleep myself.
Bolting up, I have my knife in my hands, and I am looking for the danger, instead feeling the burden of love burning deep inside. The tingles… the excitement. It just makes me sick. I want no part of love. Love. That is a dirty word, full of lies and deceit. Groaning I fall back on my pillows, and glance out the window. There are lights across the way, movement in his house. It looks like flashlights, it is not him, and my people are just here to keep him safe, crap.
Grabbing up my throwing knifes belt, and buckling it on as I run out the door barefoot and into his side window, careful not to make a noise. I creep up behind one of the intruders, pulling a small dart from my belt and tapping him with it. Lowering him as quietly to the floor as I can.
Racing up the stairs, I manage to catch up to the other intruder, but not before my target wakes. His eyes on me, I almost freeze up, he is so perfect. Ugh! What is wrong with me? I berate myself while darting him as well. I guess there is no getting out of him knowing.
“What is going on Lus?” He asks me quietly.
“Oh just a neighborly intrusion. Thought you could use a spot of help.” I answer quietly.
“I see. Well… maybe you would like to grab a cup of tea? While I phone the authorities?” He asks, his voice liquid honey pouring over me.
“Oh, there is no need to call the authorities, I already have someone coming to collect the baggage around here. But… that cup of tea sounds delightful.” I answer, a hint of flirting in my voice. What is going on, cool it girl. Jeeze… Remember he is a mark… I tell myself sternly.
Following his graceful movements down the stairs and into the kitchen, I forget, just that quickly. After the team collects the men, we talk the rest of the night. The sun is rising, and neither of us have managed a drop of sleep. I can’t help but feel like some innocent giddy school girl, not that I would know what that feels like. But hey… sometimes we can’t control everything, maybe just this once I will see where this goes.
Well there you have it, another day, another flash. I hope you enjoyed… and hey, I love hearing from you! What can you come up with for this prompt? Please share! And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!
I woke up feeling the burden of love burning in my chest. The tingles—the excitement. It all makes me sick.
Because you know what I’ve figured out? It’s all just a complete and total crock of shit. If it wasn’t, Cecilia and I would still be together.
Or wait a minute. Maybe it’s Joan. She and I would be married, have a house with a white picket fence, a dog, and 2.4 kids. I’d be working my corporate job, climbing the ladder, Joan would be home with the kids, raising them to be righteous citizens of the world. All of this, if love was real and not a burden.
Hold on. Maybe, I’m wrong about this. Not Cecilia. Not Joan. Maybe … hmmm, let me think about this. Rosie? No, my god, she was psycho. Beyond belief. That was never gonna fly.
So, why am I feeling this burning in my chest? Why the burden again?
Cause last night I met a girl. Or was it a girl met me? I don’t know anymore. All I know was that she looked at me, her eyes sparkled, she grinned just a bit. When I asked her what her name was and she said, “Gwen,” and held her hand out to me, I was there. Just absolutely there. In that moment, I knew she was the one.
Later that night, as we sat at a table, dabbling with our drinks and pondering the mysteries, she told me she wanted to leave this shithole of a town. She wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere that wasn’t there.
I was even more sure. I was smitten. Cause I wanted the same thing and she said it so perfectly. So beautifully. “I just want to be somewhere else. A place I’ve never been, surrounded by people I’ve never met. Something new. Somebody new. Anything. Everything. I just want it to be different. All of it. You know what I mean?”
“God, yes,” I replied. And I felt it so much her desire, matched with mine. We were set.
So, why did I feel so sick?
Cause when we ended the night, I leaned in to give her a kiss and her soft, moist lips met mine, her body pressed against mine, and I put my hands on her hips and could feel everything there was to feel about her.
We agreed to see each other again. “Just give me a call,” she said as she turned away from me out on the street, where the rain had stopped falling, but the streets were still wet and the pavement glimmered with the reflection of the city’s lights.
I felt sick because it was this way with Cecilia and Joan and Rosie and I just wanted to know how this one would go wrong. How Gwen and I would rocket to the moon and then drift back to Earth, burning up on re-entry.
That’s why I felt sick. I knew how it would end, but I was powerless to stop it. The inevitable progression from that first moment of outrageous passion and desire and absolute certainty that this was it to the undeniable outcome of failure and rejection and a promise to self.
Random Acts of Writing 
I woke up feeling the burden of love burning in my chest. The tingles—the excitement. It all makes me sick.
Because you know what I’ve figured out? It’s all just a complete and total crock of shit. If it wasn’t, Cecilia and I would still be together.
Or wait a minute. Maybe it’s Joan. She and I would be married, have a house with a white picket fence, a dog, and 2.4 kids. I’d be working my corporate job, climbing the ladder, Joan would be home with the kids, raising them to be righteous citizens of the world. All of this, if love was real and not a burden.
Hold on. Maybe, I’m wrong about this. Not Cecilia. Not Joan. Maybe … hmmm, let me think about this. Rosie? No, my god, she was psycho. Beyond belief. That was never gonna fly.
So, why am I feeling this burning in my chest? Why the burden again?
Cause last night I met a girl. Or was it a girl met me? I don’t know anymore. All I know was that she looked at me, her eyes sparkled, she grinned just a bit. When I asked her what her name was and she said, “Gwen,” and held her hand out to me, I was there. Just absolutely there. In that moment, I knew she was the one.
Later that night, as we sat at a table, dabbling with our drinks and pondering the mysteries, she told me she wanted to leave this shithole of a town. She wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere that wasn’t there.
I was even more sure. I was smitten. Cause I wanted the same thing and she said it so perfectly. So beautifully. “I just want to be somewhere else. A place I’ve never been, surrounded by people I’ve never met. Something new. Somebody new. Anything. Everything. I just want it to be different. All of it. You know what I mean?”
“God, yes,” I replied. And I felt it so much her desire, matched with mine. We were set.
So, why did I feel so sick?
Cause when we ended the night, I leaned in to give her a kiss and her soft, moist lips met mine, her body pressed against mine, and I put my hands on her hips and could feel everything there was to feel about her.
We agreed to see each other again. “Just give me a call,” she said as she turned away from me out on the street, where the rain had stopped falling, but the streets were still wet and the pavement glimmered with the reflection of the city’s lights.
I felt sick because it was this way with Cecilia and Joan and Rosie and I just wanted to know how this one would go wrong. How Gwen and I would rocket to the moon and then drift back to Earth, burning up on re-entry.
That’s why I felt sick. I knew how it would end, but I was powerless to stop it. The inevitable progression from that first moment of outrageous passion and desire and absolute certainty that this was it to the undeniable outcome of failure and rejection and a promise to self.
Never do this again.
Love this! So relatable. I love the going through names