Thursday, December 17, 2015

Passionate Desires Come From Our Thoughts, and Flirting

Currently, I am working on several writing projects, and I am going to share with everyone some of what I am working on.
I have three writing goals. I want to publish a novel. I want to publish a book based on my created drink receipts. I want to publish a book of short stories.
This is going to be a short story that will probably end at roughly five, maybe six pages. The word count will probably hit at roughly three thousand words when it's finished. This story has no working title, yet. It is still in the development stages.
I will share tidbits of what I'm working on as kind of a teaser, but any story I plan to self-publish will not be published on-line.
............
She thought it was over. His words had been final, driven with a hammer's blow into an eternally buried coffin.

So why was he calling? It was a question she'd asked herself a million times already, her mind not resting, exhausted with the effort of trying to decipher the meaning of a little message that was hardly threatening.

She looked out of her bedroom window at the aggressive cloud covered sky. The clouds had shifted from a dingy gray to an impossible black, and it reflected her mood perfectly. She saw the long wild silver streak of lightning light up the darkened sky, heard the loud, boisterous boom of angry thunder, and it complimented the raging storm inside her.

He had managed to break her heart, shattering the billions of pieces into a billion more when he announced he was leaving her for someone else. So why was he calling? After long, bitter months of no contact, out of the blue he calls, using the ambiguous and tired 'I miss you excuse' as a justification for throwing her mind into a whirlwind of old, lost, and forgotten memories.

She turned away from the window, soft tendrils of auburn hair slapped her harshly in the face with the quickness of her sudden and heated movement. She looked at the answering machine, with its blinking red light beckoning another playback, and a hot, fresh wave of pain and anger flooded her insides. She tried to convince herself she should destroy the message, but try as she might, it was a fight lost because in the end she missed him and the sound of that blessedly beautiful baritone voice.