All The Pretty Things

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

‘One second,’ Wendy shouted. She pulled up her leggings, slipped on a Black Sabbath t-shirt and ran downstairs, quickly regretting not putting on a bra, her face just about surviving the ordeal.

              She opened the door ready to berate a couple of Jehovah’s witnesses, but was left speechless at the size of the bouquet hovering before her. A tiny woman popped her head around the flowers, ‘I believe these are for you,’ she handed them to Wendy, ‘you lucky thing.’

             A warm feeling came over Wendy, threatening her usually robust character. The only flowers she’d ever received were a tired bunch of dandelions she’d won in a wet t-shirt competition. In the absence of a vase, she filled a pint glass with water, and squeezed the flowers into their new home. They certainly brightened up the faded walls and tatty brown carpet.

             With sparkling eyes, she opened the accompanying envelope, but felt a sense of betrayal as soon as she started reading, ‘My dear Imelda, someone like you deserves all the pretty things. All my love, Jimmy.’

              Wendy let out a heavy sigh. Of course the flowers weren’t for her. Only pretty people deserved pretty things. Still, they looked nice, ‘sorry Imelda,’ she said to the flowers, ‘they’re mine now.’

              An hour later, the door knocked again. Wendy tutted because she’d been napping. She was going to a gig in a few hours and she wanted to be fully conscious for it. She stuck her feet into bat shaped slippers and stomped to the door, flinging it open with more force than she’d meant.

             ‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ said the hairy 6ft bloke standing before her, ‘but I believe some flowers were delivered here that were meant for someone else. You wouldn’t happen to know what I’m talking about, would you?’

              Typical, thought Wendy, ‘one second.’ She pushed the door to, and when she returned she shoved the pint of flowers into the hands of her unexpected guest, ‘they’re too good for me anyway.’

              He gave her a quizzical look, ‘why would you say that? a hot chick like you should have all the pretty things of this world.’

              She couldn’t help but smile, with the right words, he’d broken down her usually hard to scale defences. ‘Don’t you have a girlfriend, Jimmy?’ She rocked back on her heels, ‘Imelda, isn’t it?’

              ‘Imelda’s my ex-mother-in-law,’ he chuckled, ‘she not been well and…’

              ‘Sorry,’ Wendy blushed, ‘I’m good at putting my foot in it.’

              ‘Easy mistake I guess. How did you know my name?’

              ‘I read the card.’

             He nodded to her t-shirt, ‘Sabbath fan, hey? Hold these a minute.’ He gave the flowers back to Wendy and opened his jacket, revealing his own Sabbath shirt. ‘They’re playing tonight.’

              ‘I’m going,’ she said.

              ‘Me too, perhaps I’ll see you there?’

              She handed back the flowers, he put up his hand, ‘keep them,’ he winked, ‘there’s more than one person in this world who deserves pretty things.’

              Wendy smiled.

Surprise

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

‘What’s this?’ Eddie returned the Christmas decorations to the loft and picked up an unwrapped present he’d found tucked away in a corner. He blew off the dust and coughed. There was no name on it, just a ‘K’, which meant it must have been for his wife, Kayla, the only ‘K’ in the family.

         Obviously he’d forgotten about it. Had it meant to be for this year, or a past Christmas? The dust suggested it had been there for a long time.

              He had form for buying early gifts and forgetting about them. A few years ago he found a present in his boot that hadn’t even been wrapped, but it had worked in his favour. It turns out women don’t appreciate anti-wrinkle products as gifts because a few days later, an advert for an anti-wrinkle cream came on, she’d pinched her eyebrows together and said, ‘Imagine receiving that for Christmas.’ Eddie shuddered at the thought of his close call with that one.  

              December sun shone through the landing window, making visible the dust particles drifting like snow. He squinted at the sudden brightness.

              ‘Kayla,’ he said, bounding down the stairs. He paused at the bottom to catch his breath, he wasn’t getting any younger. ‘I’ve got something for you.’ He couldn’t remember what he’d brought her, but it had all the feels of a lovely piece of jewellery. Kayla would love it when she saw it, and it was bound to give him a few brownie points.

              ‘The answer’s no,’ came the short sharp reply of his attentive wife. ‘I’m too busy and I’m too tired.’

              He found her in the kitchen in her apron and rubber gloves, washing the dishes, bubbles spilling over the bowl. He leaned against the breakfast bar, arms out in front of him, ‘I think you’ll like this.’

              She turned around and saw him holding a present, a rare smile spreading across her face. ‘What is it?’ She pulled off the gloves and wiped her hands down her apron.

                He let out a loud breath and handed her the present, ‘open it and you’ll find out.’

              ‘Looks like something special,’ she said, bouncing from foot to foot. ‘Shall we dim the lights and sit by the fire?’ Her eyes sparkled.

              He felt a tingling in his limbs, he was definitely on a promise. They shared a look as she gently pulled the wrapping from the package, eyes wide as she lifted the lid. ‘Oh,’ she said, frowning as she picked up a note. Eddie rubbed his chin, his mouth suddenly dry.

              What had she opened?  

              Kayla read out loud, ‘Katrina my naughty little minx, someone as beautiful as you deserves something beautiful to wear.’ She pulled a beautiful red heart on a golden chain from the box, her gazed fixed on her husband, ‘you’ve spelt my name wrong.’

              Eddie gasped.

The ‘K’ was for Katrina, how could he have forgotten? His heart raced as he remembered his affair with the buxom blonde with skin so fair, almost ghost like. It happened so long ago, he’d put her out of his mind completely and yet here she was, back from the past, haunting him. ‘It was…I, a…’

              A tear dripped down Kayla’s face. He reached out for her but she pulled back, her sparkling eyes now red. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, besides, what would he say? Sorry didn’t seem enough. But he had to say something, the truth perhaps?  He swallowed hard, ‘honey, there’s something I need to tell you.’

Flash Fiction – Desperate Measures

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

Liam wasn’t sure how it had come to this. One minute he was hosting a meeting with his colleagues, the next he had his hands around Andy’s throat. It took precisely one second for him to vacate his chair, punch Andy to the floor and pin him down. Everyone agreed that this was unusual behaviour for Liam, he was always so calm.

            Of course he regretted it as soon as he did it, but he needed that money. He looked at his colleagues pleadingly, hoping they would step in and stop this lunacy but they just sat there, jaws hanging, staring. Liam tried to move his hands but it was as though they were stuck with glue. Any longer, Andy would be dead; he’d be a murderer, and then what? But Andy’s knee collided with Liam’s privates knocking him back and rolling onto the floor holding his crown jewels.

            Andy stood and straightened his tie, ‘what the hell’s wrong with you?’ he said, ‘I’m calling the police.’ He stormed out of the room.

            What was wrong with him? He knew he’d over-reacted, but desperate times call for desperate measures, before he could stop himself he shouted, ‘if I see you again, I’ll kill you.’

            He pulled himself up and swiped his hand across his forehead and looked up to find a whole audience had entered the room while he’d been possessed. And then another thought crossed his mind; witnesses. ‘Fuck,’ is all he said.

            The crowd parted as his director approached. ‘It’s probably best if you go home.’

            Liam took a slow walk of shame out of the door. The cold air hit him like a slap in the face. He felt the first drops of rain that would soon be a storm. He lifted his head to the sky and thought about what had just happened, the news there would be no bonus, the fight, the witnesses. Would Andy call the police? A worse thought crossed his mind; he had to tell his wife that the money was gone.

He made his way home.  

Flash Fiction – Broken

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

‘What are you arguing about?’ asked Lilly. She’d noticed it a lot lately. One minute they were a happy family, and then it seemed her parents didn’t like each other anymore.

            ‘We’re not arguing,’ her father had said. He pulled her in for a cuddle. Lilly loved cuddles with her dad; it was warm and cosy, her safe space. It never usually lasted this long though. When he released her he held her hands and looked into her eyes, Lilly wondered if he was starting a staring contest. ‘I love you, Lilly, don’t ever forget that.’

            Lilly giggled, ‘I know, you tell me everyday, Daddy.’

            She let go of his hands and ignoring her mother, she ran out to the garden. Unlike the atmosphere inside, the garden welcomed her; the flowers smiled, the trees waved, the insects kept her company. Outside, she felt wanted.

She sat cross legged on the grass and hummed a tune while she busied herself making daisy chains. For a moment the only sounds were the breeze and a little blackbird calling out for some attention. Then she heard her mother shout, making Lilly jump.

            ‘If you’re going to leave then go, we don’t need you, me and Lilly will be fine without you.’

            Leave? Lilly didn’t understand. Her mother was wrong, Lilly wouldn’t be fine without him, she needed him. She left her daisy chain and marched up the garden path, she had to make them see. A door slammed and she knew it was too late. Her walk turned into a sprint and then words came out of her mouth that she hadn’t planned on saying, ‘Daddy,’ she called as she entered the house, ‘don’t go. Mummy’s wrong, I do need you Daddy.’ But he had gone.

Tears escaped from her eyes and she turned to her mother for comfort, but her mother had none to offer. She was sat at the table with an opened bottle of wine. Lilly recognised it as the drink that made her parents happy. She’d never seen them drink it at breakfast though. Her mother picked up the glass and Lilly said, ‘I hope you feel better after that, Mummy.’ Her mother looked at her as she pressed the glass to her lips.