Tag Archives: flash fiction

The Cursed Diamond

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Criticisms welcome.

 

 

Rhia hefted a bauble in her hand, enjoying its cool weight, then held it up to the light to appreciate the scintillating jewels embedded in it. She wondered vaguely how old it was.

“Come here,” Joe whispered, beckoning her with one hand. “I found a good one.”

Joining him, they marveled at his find. It was the biggest diamond either of them had ever seen, as round as a quarter, with its own display case and sign.

“Legend says that the Morgan Diamond is cursed,” Rhia read aloud.

“Well,” Joe said. “We’re cursed already. What’s one more?”

She smiled darkly and helped him break it out of the case.

 

Three months passed. They had sold almost everything, but the Morgan Diamond was too easily recognizable. It had gone into the safe at their new private beach house, waiting for the perfect laundering opportunity.

“We have got to get that thing off of our hands,” Rhia said over a late dinner.

Joe grunted acknowledgement, irritated.

“I’m serious, Joe. I saw a man at the market today, I thought he might be a detective watching me.”

“You see detectives everywhere. How can you be so sure?”

He had been far away and she was nearsighted, so she wasn’t able to get a good look. He was the same medium build as Joe, but paler, more angular. She’d decided he was a detective because of his small round sunglasses and a long beige coat. More than anything though, it was the way he had been watching her, a burning stare that had easily crossed the distance between them. She’d never seen anyone as terrifying as that man.

“I can’t be sure exactly, but I’m not willing to stake a prison sentence on it. I don’t even care if we sell it or not at this point. It’s evidence and we’ve got to get rid of it.”

“You want me to throw away a ten million dollar diamond, are you crazy? We just have to wait for the right buyer, one we can trust. You have got to relax.”

He wasn’t listening to her again. Frustrated by her inability to articulate her fears, Rhia threw down her napkin and got up. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Goddamn,” Joe said to her back as she left. “What is wrong with you tonight?”

She went down to the edge of the black water and watched the waves carry their white crests to shore. The sound didn’t wash away her thoughts like it usually did. So she meandered absentmindedly along the shoreline, her mind tense. Raising her eyes and looking ahead to the horizon, her gut lurched.

There he was again.

She froze. As a woman, her best course of action was to run. As a thief, running would make her look guilty.

Ultimately, her curiosity and her ego got the better of her. She could always rely on her quick lies and dirty fighting to get her through any sticky situation. If he had proof against them, he wouldn’t have to stake them out like this. She walked toward him.

The closer she drew, the more details became apparent. He stood knee deep in the surf, looking out across the ocean, heedless of his wet clothes. Was he wearing sunglasses even now, in the dark?

No. Those weren’t sunglasses. Her mind just hadn’t been able to comprehend it before.

He had no eyes.

What she had taken for a beige coat was actually a tattered, sodden bathrobe. It looked as if its color and thickness had been thinned by relentless saltwater.

She knew with sick certainty that he was dead.

Stopping where she was, she slowly, quietly backed away. 

The man watched the surf. He never moved, never acknowledged her presence. When she got far enough away, she turned and ran back to the house. Panting and shaking, she burst through the door. Joe. She needed Joe.

But Joe wasn’t home. They’d just had a fight. He probably went out to sulk at a bar somewhere.

She climbed the stairs and looked out the window toward the beach. The specter’s pale figure was still there, still watching the horizon. He hadn’t disappeared. It wasn’t her imagination.

Rhia took some deep breaths and tried to calm herself down. People. She would be safe with people. Then she remembered that she’d first seen him at the market, mixed with people. Everyone had unconsciously walked around him. People wouldn’t make any difference; she was the only one who could see him.

Ghosts always want something, right? He was scary, but maybe he wasn’t evil. What could he want?

As if in answer, her searching gaze landed on the Morgan Diamond. It shone black in the darkness. Cursed. How she and Joe had laughed.

She picked it up, turned it over in her hands. It felt cold, heavy… cruel. Could the apparition be a previous owner? What did he want her to do?

He had been looking at the ocean.

Inspiration struck her, and she knew what was necessary. Curling her fingers around the diamond, she took it down to the beach. He was still there, standing in the surf, just within her sight. Always within her sight.

Wading out into the ocean, knee deep as he had been, she lifted the diamond in her hand and gave it one last longing look. It was such a beautiful and rare thing, their trophy for that evening, one of the last times she and Joe had been really happy together, poor and hungry for the thrill of the heist.

A strong wave tugged at her knee, pulling her off balance and back into reality. She sighed. It wasn’t worth her life, or her soul, or a lifetime of hauntings. Gripping it firmly, she threw it as hard as she could out into the surf. For such a troubling thing, it made a very small splash.

Rhia studied the figure of the ghost, but nothing about him changed. He remained still. He watched the water.

It had been the wrong thing to do. She had projected her own desires onto the haunting, and thrown away a fortune for nothing. Dejected, she listened to the waves for wisdom, but they held no comfort. Joe would never forgive her for this; she would never be able to explain it to his satisfaction.

As she started to turn back, the water surged and pushed her feet out from under her. She fell backwards into the cold surf. The undertow pulled her down, down. She fought against it, but which way was up? Black water rushed against her ears. It was taking her. She couldn’t breathe. Everything was so dark. Her lungs spasmed painfully against the frigid salt water.

The last thing she saw through the darkness was a white face with hollow eyes, watching her sadly.

 

Joe came home, still very drunk. He had spilled tequila on his clothes, so he changed into his robe. Rhia wasn’t here. Was she still angry? That wasn’t like her. Every time they had a fight, she was always here when he came home, ready to accept his apology.

Something was wrong. She should be here. Something was very, very wrong.

She had last said she was going to the beach.

He stumbled down the stairs and out of the house. The stars lit his way.

“Rhia!” He called. “Rhia! Are you out here?”

A black heap on the beach ahead. Driftwood? Worse?

He broke into a run. It was the right size and shape. It was Rhia.

She was cold. She had drowned and washed ashore.

Something glittered in the sand next to her. He picked it out. The Morgan Diamond. A cursed jewel. The one he had stolen to impress her.

This was his fault. He hadn’t been here. He’d gone out drinking like an ass. He only ever thought of himself and this was the result. She couldn’t be dead. He should have been here, should have been here. His partner in crime, he was always prepared for them to go down together. How could he face this world of enemies with no Rhia to stand by his side?

He had to change it. But what could he do now? He had come looking for her too late. She was so precious; he should have stayed near her.

He would join her. He deserved worse. He would join her in the ocean.

Sobbing, he waded out to the water in his beige robe, as deep as he could, diamond in hand, and made a pact with it. Let the same curse take him. Let the water take him, too. Let the sand fill his throat. Let the crabs eat his eyes. If only he could go back, to be there with her. He could warn her about the diamond, about the water. If only he could have been with her. Let him have this day again. Just to be near her. He would give anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everyday magic

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My last two posts were so serious, I had to write something stupid to make up for it.

 

 

“Great,” Edward said. “I can’t get the damn lever unstuck.”

“Oh,” Wendy said. “Should I try a spell?”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, let’s try!” She said, suddenly enthusiastic. “I’ve been practicing.”

He grimaced in spite of himself. “I’m not sure. The lever already has a lot of magic in it just to work.”

“Pish posh,” she said. “Scootch over. Humbeldy bumbeldy wobbledy fobbledy bing bang boom, now move anyway you dumb old lever!”

The lever moved alright. It moved a full three hundred sixty degrees, and went around three times.

“Oh my god!” Edward screamed. “It can’t handle that much pressure! Run, Wendy, run!”

They ran, but they didn’t run fast enough. The whole house gave a deep metallic groan, the sound of a soul in anguish. They actually felt the walls around them bow with pressure. His ears popped.

And then the plumbing exploded.

Water and feces rained down on them both.

“Goddamnit Wendy,” Edward said. “Next time the magic toilet gets stopped up, just leave it to the professionals.”

“Don’t blame me,” Wendy said. “You broke the lever in the first place.”

“Great,” he said. “This is just great. We’re going to have to move out, get the whole system repaired.”

“I can seal the pipes,” Wendy said. “I know a spell for that.”

“No no no no no–”

“Pish posh,” she said. “Move out of the way.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Fairy Tale

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Once upon a time, a little girl noticed a blue glow under the stairs leading up to her bedroom. She peeked behind the things there and found a confused blue fairy.

“What is wrong, little fairy?” the girl said.

“I was abandoned,” the fairy replied.

“Well, you can live under my stairs if you like. But I’d rather you stay in my room with me.”

The fairy followed the girl upstairs to her room.  She gasped. “What a beautiful room!”

The room was full of fun things. Christmas lights, glow in the dark stars, hand-drawn pictures of fantastic animals, a pink four poster bed.

“Come and play with me,” the girl said.

And so the fairy lived with the girl for a long time. The girl would bring her pieces of cake and cookies and thimbles of cream from the kitchen. She gave her drawings and told her stories. It doesn’t take much to keep a fairy.

As the girl grew up, she spent less time in her room, less time with the fairy, more time with friends and boys. She took down many of her old drawings.

“Oh, not that one,” the fairy would say.

“But it’s terribly drawn, that nose is ridiculous,” the girl would respond, and remove it anyway.

One day the girl came home and said, “I got accepted into college!”

“Ah,” said the fairy. “I’m going to have to find a new place to stay.”

But the girl didn’t hear her. She often didn’t hear her these days.

The girl went off to college. She learned a great many things. She fought with her boyfriend, she got drunk every weekend, she examined all the things that were wrong with the world, she cried over her exams, gained weight, lost weight. Sometimes when she was homesick she thought of her little fairy friend, but soon was distracted by all the strange new things she was seeing and learning.

When she next came home to visit her family, she stayed in her old room. She took down all the childish things and cleaned up. She never even noticed the fairy was missing.

The girl, a woman now, graduated, got a job, lived her life. She married and had a daughter. She struggled to teach her right from wrong, while still succeeding in her job and saving enough money for the future.

The grandmother grew feeble and came to live with them. The old woman moved slowly. Sometimes she would make cookies. Sometimes she would sit on the porch and watch the sun set. When the woman worried too much, the grandmother always told her, “time will take care of things, my child.”

The grandmother adored her grandchild. She would sit quietly with her and watch her play.

One day the woman listened outside her daughter’s room, curious what her daughter and the grandmother talked about.

“That’s a wonderful animal you drew. Shall we hang it up?”

“Grandmother, I met a fairy today.”

“A fairy? Really? Can I see her?”

“She says you might, if she shines real hard.”

“Ah,” the old woman said. “What a lovely blue light. Your mother had a fairy once, when she was a girl.”

Hearing them talk, the woman remembered what it felt like to have a fairy. She stepped into the room and looked around, but there was nothing.

“Don’t worry,” the grandmother said to her. “If you really want to, you’ll be able to see them again. Time will take care of it, my child. Time always takes care of it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doomed to Repeat

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This is almost entirely based on a bad dream I had. A little sci-fi/horror/I don’t know what. Interpretations are welcome, if you dare plumb the depths of my psyche.

 

 

He looked at his watch. “It’s almost time,” he said.

The kids groaned and put down their forks.

“Come on outside. Come on! No dawdling, do you want to drown in the kitchen?”

“What does it matter,” grumbled the older daughter. “We’ll die either way.”

“Don’t talk like that,” the mother snapped. “Just… please. Come out here on the porch with me and hold hands. We don’t know that it could be the last time.”

“Mama, how many more days?” asked the younger daughter.

“I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe until somebody does it right. Maybe until somebody fixes it. We tried once, to fix it. We tried building walls together. Do you remember all the people?”

The child shook her head.

“Well, it happens all over the world. We can’t get away. So for a while, all the people tried to get together and build a shelter. But no matter how many hands we had, one day just wasn’t enough time. After a while, we started to stay home…”

“It’s here,” dad said with grim finality.

“Remember, kids: if you survive the impact, breathe deep right away so you drown quick. I’ll see you again this morning. I love you.” She had to shout over the rumbling of the approaching tsunami.

“I’m scared, mama.”

“I know baby. It won’t last. It won’t last.” Knowing the outcome did not prevent her from protectively curling her body around the child, who started to cry. The elder daughter and the father stood together, gripping the railing of the porch and waiting silently.

The tidal wave took them.

 

 

 

 

 

Kid’s stuff… or maybe not

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Penorama said we should post something pointless. I’m always up for that!

I spent most of middle school writing stories with my friend Liz and giggling insanely in the corner of the classroom instead of doing work. When we wrote this, we must have been in… seventh grade, so 12-13ish?

This doesn’t make much sense… it was written by kids after all. Enjoy!

 

 

Darla and Doug

 

One day, a girl named Doug was walking along at the Zoo.  Suddenly a monkey swooped down from a tree and hit her on the head.  Then he threw coconuts at her.

“Ow! Ow!  Owwwongle?  Waahlamop.”

Then the monkey stole her purse and ran into the zookeeper.  Then the zookeepers took the monkey way and gassed it.

Doug said, “Glop-op-do?  Wa… Wha…  Where am I?”

A passerby said, “You were just hit on the head with coconuts when a zookeeper gassed a monkey who swooped down from a tree.  Or maybe it was a rhino.  I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell the difference.”

Doug said, “Cool!”

The passerby said, “Where are your parents?”

Doug said, “I don’t know.  I don’t remember having any.  Can I live with you?”

Passerby said, “But I’m a guy named Darla.  guys and girls don’t live together… Oh, well, I guess it’s an exception for me and you.

“OK.”  Darla said.  “I have to warn you, I’m forty-five and I live with my parents still.”

Doug said, “Oh, that’s alright.  I dig old guys.”

Darla said, “Don’t you go hitting on my dad!”

Doug said, “OK, I’ll just hit on you.  OK?”

“Sure!”

Darla and Doug walked away.  On the way home, they visited a pet shop and bought a monkey.

“Be good now,” said Doug.

“Okay,” said the monkey, Bart.  Then he stole some girl’s purse.

“I guess that just primate nature!” Doug laughed, then Darla laughed, and they walked home talking about cancer.  They also bought some ice cream with the money from the monkey’s new purse.

 

 

 

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