Grandfather’s Smile

I haven’t written much prose lately and thought I’m ease myself back gently with the help of Al’s fabulous ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’. Around 200 words of fiction based as loosely as you like around the weekly photo prompt. Follow the link to give it a go.

bike (1)

“A penny for your thoughts” he’d say. And I’d see that questioning look in his eyes, the slight rise of his brow that pulled one eye up higher than the other and he’d smile. I remember that smile.

I remember other things too, his smell, his hair, the coolness of his skin. But it was his smile that I remember the most.

He’d sit and wait for me to answer. He knew I would, I always did. I might play with my hands or look over to the window, maybe even get up and walk over to it, as if the moonlit view outside could somehow answer for me. But I’d always sit back down, look at him and speak.

“I don’t know if I can do it” My grandfather looked at me and smiled. Always that smile.

“It’s like riding a bike” he said,

“You never forget”

I twisted my hands in my lap and nodded.

He stood up, walked over and put his hand on my shoulder.

“I taught you well, my little one, it’s time”

Later that night my teeth sank into the Inspectors throat. I drank my fill, till his body went limp, my ravenous tongue tracing greedily across my fangs.

My grandfather smiled!

Sucking Lemons

Back from a few days away and time to blow the writing cobwebs. Where better than the fab Friday Fictioneers. A 100 words (you’re not shot for going over) of fiction based on the weekly photo prompt. Follow the link and give it a go.

in-the-light

Photo Copyright : G.L. MacMillan

Certain places, like certain people, can instantly announce their character. In the case of the living, no particular feature need betray them; on the surface an open expression or an innocent smile and yet there’s a certainty that somethings amiss. Perhaps the same could be said of places. A feeling so intense that it tingles the nerves.

Moira ran from the tent clutching the love potion to her chest. The sky grew darker and the wind grew stronger as the old gypsy cackled in the background,

“Change those labels Fred, ‘Madam Ruby’s Love Elixir’ is going to sell way better than ‘Mrs Ruby’s Lemonade’ ever did”.

Walking With Strangers

crowds 2

One amongst the many,

Shadowing the wall,

Hiding with the others,

Lost within the whole,

*

Searching for an anchor,

A sea of crowded faces,

Only seeing strangers,

In all the familiar places,

*

Voices in the shadows,

Caution in the eyes,

Choruses of whispers,

Of ignorance and lies,

*

One amongst the many,

Each face is but the same,

Searching for acceptance,

Someone to know your name.

*

Original Photo Copyright: www.flickr.com/photos/marfis75/12300601595

An Unexpected Meeting

In an alleyway of tall red brick a lone flickering street lamp lit the narrow cobbled pathway. A pungent stench of bins, overflowing and ignored, hit with a power so caustic that I heaved in the darkness. I sensed a shadow in the corner of my eye. Footsteps in the distance chilled the blood under my skin, and an icy river of dread pulsed through the flow. I stopped. I waited. There they were again… the footsteps; there was no mistaking them this time. I knew you were there. Anxiety ignited my paranoia; like kindling, fuelling it, feeding the flames and kept telling me to check again. I didn’t dare, denial was the easier option. I quickened my pace.

I caught the shadow again. Damn. Closer it came. I had to turn, a knee jerk reaction. Then I felt it, a warm haze of breath that skimmed the sensitive skin on my cheek. I could taste it; rancid, heavy and frighteningly familiar. A smile so wide, so hideous, it spread across his face and his eyes like ink pools of evil, flickered with malice in the absence of light. He raised an arm, high above his head and held something hidden by the shadows.  I tried to scream. Nothing came. My throat constricting to nothing but a desperate whimper “No please…Please no…Please!”, then I lost my footing and fell back against the red brick wall.

I opened my eyes to a muted echo and the bleak light that was still flickering overhead. Every inch of me coiled with alarm, tiny pin pricks of fear that scored at my skin. I raised a weak arm to my head and felt nothing. No pain, no blood stained wound pulsating across my brow. Weird! Then the echo became clearer and I heard his voice calling out. My breath stilled again.

“Are you alright, you gave me a fright there” a soft whisper of hope suddenly diluted the fear.

He put an arm around my waist. I flinched. I waited for the darkness to claim me again. “Lean on me, let me help you up” his voice a rich velvety baritone, unexpectedly calming and distractingly sexy.

“Remember me from the bar, you left your bag and I thought you might need it”. I gulped. Humiliation replaced fear and I nodded, grateful for his hoist up as he stood me back onto my feet.

“Richie, oh thank god, you friggin scared me half to death” I cursed and his eyebrow lifted slightly giving a tiny smirk of humour to a rather gorgeous face. “In that case, maybe I should walk you home, after all it’s not every night a gorgeous brunette drops at my feet”  I crooked my neck, the flickering light just above catching a small cocky dimple in the centre of his chin and I gulped again, this time for a whole load of different reasons.

Maybe tonight wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all!