Tears dripped down her cheeks. She was alone. Finally, sadly, happily alone.
Her husband was searching for her. She prayed that he would not find her. She had managed to escape her home while he searched for weapons to use against her. When he stomped towards the kitchen, dripping angry sweat and hurling abuse, she thought of the knives.
She didn't remember how she got between her home and the doorway. All she knew was that she was safe, for the time being.
Where next? She had no family. Her friends were his friends or the wives of his friends....
One scoop chocolate, one scoop strawberry, it was amazing they hadn't seen each other for twenty five years but he could recall her favorite ice cream tastes. Wow she though,t he really did remember everything about them, maybe he was sincere, maybe he did love her, and never forgot about their deep, close, tender relationship.
"When I saw you again just now my heart really skipped a beat" he said softly, "I mean look at you, you have hardly changed at all, you are beautiful,l you look just the same, you look,well radiant" He was gushing with compliments, surely he...
Wine.
"Wine is the one thing we have left in common," he thought, looking out over the set table before him. She had opted for the house red, as he did. She hadn't drunk much of her glass; no time for it between the business at hand. He had gorged himself of his own glass.
She drew some papers from her bag. Starched, sparkling papers with her lawyer's mark on them.
"Her lawyer's mark on her," he thought.
He motioned the waiter to quickly refill his cup. He emptied it with equal alacrity.
Not words, but papers passed between them....
The horses were reflected in the wet, grasping sand, and Mary was afraid when she looked down. Images of being sucked into the muddy, cold slime reared up in her mind and she couldn't dismiss them. She closed her eyes and clung tightly to the reins, gripping as hard as she could so as not to topple sideways and be lost forever.
Mitch was not afraid. "Isn't this wonderful?" he asked breathlessly as he rode up to join his wife. "Can you believe we're actually doing this? A lifelong dream, finally realised!" And before Mary could answer and give her...
(To read Part 2, follow this link: http://sixminutestory.com/stories/somewhere-better-part-2.)
Gigantic.
The voice was gigantic, though how such powerful sound came out of such a small creature was beyond her.
The furry animal was sitting back on its haunches in the tall emerald grass, looking up at her as if anticipating something.
She shifted uneasily. "You said you call yourself Someone Good?" she said. "What kind of a name is that?"
"We name ourselves by our attributes," said the creature, in its gigantic voice, which seemed to be full of every meaningful thing. "We are good," it continued. And from behind her,...
100 feet away, and we still couldn't talk. She sat there behind bars on a rotting metal cot while I was wearing designer jeans with a designer purse, just to visit her in jail.
I stared at her through the glass, and she hung her head until the guard whispered to her that someone was there to see her. Slowly raising her head, she looked toward the plexi-glass visitors room; the room where we could watch the prisoners like they were in a zoo or something.
She looked up at me and gave a the smile you give that still...
Taste is a matter of where and where you grew up. I am lucky enough to be born in a Country where taste can be seen and savored on a daily base and almost everywhere. Italy is made of taste; great taste, not only concerning the food, but it applies also to cars, shoes, clothing, manners and beautiful ladies. We all know what a man should do to make a lady feel great, isn't that considered taste? When we eat at home or at the fanciest restaurant on the coast do we know what wine is to be matched with...
The waves crashed into the enormous ship and smashed mightily into the sides, reducing them to no more than sodden firewood. Men clung to the sails and mast as the captain yelled, "Abandon ship! Abandon ship! Lord have mercy on us all!"
And the first few men who obeyed their captain were lost forever to the ferocious seas, pulled down by the weight of the ocean, by the fierceness of the waves as they rolled and rocked and never stopped moving. The rest were too afraid to leave the confines of what had been their home for these many long...
Chazz was a murderer. He stopped himself this time. The voice said, "not this time." He turned and walked toward his car, got in, turned the ignition and gently depressed the accelerator. At the first light he crossed to lanes to make a left turn and cut off a brown sedan. He was lost in thought.
Chazz got out of the car after he parked in the driveway. Went up the stairs two at a time and took of his pants and shirt, leaving him in his boxers and white T-shirt. He went back down the stairs the same way,...
"Who are you?" Gene didn't want to know the answer, but hurled at the woman sitting across the cafe table regardless. It was because of her that he was alone, it was her fault his wife no longer slept at his side.
She sucked at her cigarette, delivering her answer on a ribbon of viscous blue smoke. "Heather. Who're you?"
Gene, ever the copywriter, bit his tongue as his mind snatched the apostrophe from her words. 'Whore' he wanted to scream at the girl who shared the bed of the only woman he'd ever fucked.
'Liar,' the little voice in...