Conflicting emotions flash fic

So on the facebook, a fellow author, JR Gray, posted a screen shot of a word prompt he saw on tumblr and posted his flash fic, which was really good.

The prompt was whispering to me, and after about an hour of avoiding that nagging persistent voice, I gave in and started writing. I got the first couple of sentences down and I knew. I knew that it was going to lead to something special and it did. It loosened the knot of one of my secondary characters–one who will have a starring role in the follow-up to my current WIP–and enlightened me to knowing more of just who she really is.

So I did what any self-respecting fb friend who writes does–I went back to JR’s post, stole shared it, and posted my own flash on my fb wall. You can find JR’s here, and mine follows below the prompt:

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Hating her is easier than missing her.

She changed me. Who I thought I was. Who I thought I would become. The moment I saw her, I knew I would never be the same, yet the depth of her importance and extent of her influence on my life was unforeseen.

She entered the room like a gale force wind, whipping the attention of everyone in her direction. Her short flame blue hair, shaped into a delicious faux-hawk was like a beacon in the dimly lit room, as if her exuberant spirit needed a physical release and focal point for the psychically blind. I raised my glass for a drink to quench my suddenly dry mouth, never taking my eyes from her as I watched her scan the room.

I can remember her confident presence as she meandered amongst the bar patrons in my direction. They parted for her like the Red Sea did for Moses, yet gravitated in her direction. She moved with purpose, an innocent intent that was both premeditated and purely natural. She walked in my direction and grew increasingly closer. And closer. My heart pounded furiously in my chest, and I was sure that my pulse could be seen jumping along the side of my throat. I locked my gaze to her smiling green eyes until she stopped to stand in front of me.

She blinked, and for that split second I remembered I should probably breathe. She took my drink from my very hand–her fingertips barely brushed mine–then raised my glass to her lips, sipping from the very spot where my lips had just rested. Her pale pink lip-gloss marred the glass on top of my own print. I felt the kiss left upon the glass as if our lips had actually touched. If I knew the moment she walked in the door that she was mine; I knew from this moment that I was hers.

She showed me love and life like no other before her, and no other since. She exploded into my life like the roar of a lioness, and when she departed just as forcefully, she took my heart with her. Because of her I lived, and because of her I knew that I could never settle for anything less than a life in vivid color. Now that she’s gone it’s hard to see the vibrant color in the world that I know exists, yet I don’t know if I ever will again. It hurts too much to miss her, so sometimes I hate her for taking me out of the grey.

 

<<<Laine’s story is on deck waiting to step up to the plate, but for now, I hope you enjoy that little tidbit of a character whose life and purpose are still unfolding like a complicated origami flower.

~deidre

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