Short stories, Flash fiction, and Novel Excerpts


In Writing on December 11, 2009 at 12:57 am

“I Love you I Love you I Love you,” Jeff said quickly.

I touched his bruised and battered face, “What’s going on?”

“Hush, I don’t have much time,” he said ending with a tender kiss.

I tried to speak, but he laid a gentle finger across my lips.

“I have to go away for a while. If anyone asks say we’re divorced, I left you, I’m missing, anything! But that’s your story, stick to it, and stay alive. I’ll see you again,” he said gripping my shoulders his intensity frightening.

He put his arms around me and pulled me to his blood soaked shirt. I wept into his shoulder hugging him tight.

He whispered into my ear, “When the sun warms your face, it’s me, smiling because you’re happy. When the wind plays with your hair, it’s me, reminding you of the joy that is life.”

Guards appear, shocking in their sudden appearance. Each guard holding him by an arm, they haul him roughly away.

************************************************** ********

“What did he say to you?” Agent Casto asked again.

“I already told you! He said he had to go away! I don’t know why,” I cried huddling in on myself.

He nodded, as he had for the last two hours, “So you’ve said.” He tapped the table looking at me, through me. “Alright, what did he whisper to you?”

What my husband said to me wasn’t any of his business. Jeff’s words, like his love, were mine! But I had to tell him something, especially after they’d shown me the video of us together. They probably had audio as well.

“He told me that he loved me. Now please, tell me what’s going on! You take me from my home, blindfold me, question me about my husband, show him to me, and then take him away. What is this all about?” I didn’t care how demanding I sounded.

Getting up from his chair, studying my tear streaked face, my limp stringy hair, he said, “Your husband did some terrible things. He’s charged with Treason.”

No!” My chair scraping across the floor as I stood, I refuted the absurd charge.

Agent Casto, turning from the door, said, “You’re free to go Miss.”

I find that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have. –Thomas Jefferson

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