30 in 30 Week 2: Changes to Come/Waking Up Elsewhere

Aleathia says:

It's been a busy week, but I'm still making the deadline. Enjoy a short story and a photo. Thanks for reading.


Photo: Changes to Come:

Story: Waking Up Elsewhere:

Elsewhere

      Darla’s head pounded and her vision was occluded by thick, congealing blood from a gash in her forehead. Her eyelashes stuck together, leaving her blind. The more she woke up, the more she realized her predicament.

      A sullied rag was pulled tightly across her mouth leaving her impotent in her attempts to call for help. Who am I screaming for? Darla had no idea where she was or how she got there. She quieted her body and listened. The sound of steel wheels against the rail, with its rhythmic thumping, could be felt as much as it was heard. Rain splattered against a tin roof and she could smell stale, moldy earth mixed with the iron from her own blood.

      She attempted moving her arms and legs, but both were bound tight. The rope cut into the tender flesh of her inner wrists causing them to burn with pain each time she moved. Darla knew she had to get out of there, wherever there was. The last thing she remembered was walking through Page Park to get to Sarah’s house. They were supposed to go out for drinks. Sarah was perpetually late and since the night was beautiful, Darla had decided to walk the short distance to save time. 

      Now, she was here.

      It became harder and harder to breathe with her mouth gagged. Her nose was half crusted over with blood blocking one nasal passage and her belly pushed into the hard dirt. Every inhale lifted her body off the ground slightly and the gravity of her weight expelled the air too quickly. She grew increasingly tired with each breath. Darla worked in a rocking motion to get her body tipped onto its side, but was careful not to go too far. She was trying to avoid the turtle on its shell problem. She’d never get up from that post.

      Once on her side, she used her elbow and her core to get upright onto her knees. Darla nearly cried from excitement. In that position, if she leaned backwards, she could feel the rope beneath her fingers used to confine her ankles. There was something glorious about the knots as she touched them. She concentrated and worked with numbing digits. Just as she got the first ligature untied, she heard a man’s voice:

      “Now where in the hell do you think you’re going?”

Aleathia Drehmer 2019

30 in 30: Day One: Selfie/90 Seconds

Aleathia says:

Here I am, the world's laziest blogger! My intentions are grand and my follow through, meh. I have been working diligently writing a novel which is in part why this blog has lagged this time. I have been writing poetry as well. Art projects fill my house. Walking. Pokemon. Getting healthy!

This project I am calling 30 in 30. Each day I will be posting a prompted photograph and a prompted story. Sometimes they are parallel to each other, sometimes perpendicular. The stories are flash fiction as I am allowed one side of a sheet of paper to write a story. Challenges folks, you have to put the screws to yourself once in awhile. Enjoy!

Photo "Selfie":

Story (what can happen in a second):

90 Seconds They ducked into the stoop of the closed cafe a second before the sky opened up with the wrath of an unseen god. The ferocity of the thunder rattled Cynthia’s bones. Next to her, George didn’t seem phased in the slightest having spent a lifetime amidst the cornfields of Iowa. Storms there meant life and food on the table and he never gave them a regretful thought. The two nearly strangers were tucked in close, elbow to elbow. They had “talked” for months through various social medias. Cynthia regretted this was the only way people like to meet anymore and longed for the bygone times when people met in all their awkwardness in person. It was easier to weed out the weirdos that way. Electronically, the two had investigated each other. Lists were checked off, probabilities weighed, before they decided to finally appear in human form. They both knew they were more gregarious and brave through the glowing screens in front of their noses. They could be themselves without fear of rejection or ridicule, however, they had not planned on reality. Cynthia found George incredibly handsome and rugged, but in person his charm was lacking and his conversation skills stunted. She spent much of the dinner driving their exchanges and waited for him to lead, just once. It made her feel like she was boring and that whatever interest he had in her virtually had been squandered sitting across from him. Huddled under the awning, their bodies close, but with so much silence between their mouths. When George leaned over to whisper in Cynthia’s ear he felt his heart rip out of his chest onto the sidewalk with the rain washing away his blood and courage. He was trying to find a shadow of his bravado he had online to tell her how much he loved listening to her speak, watching her mouth form words, and they way she bit her bottom lip when she was nervous. He liked her, a lot. He choked on his words as his mind went blank. Now, he was just a weirdo breathing heavy. Cynthia felt something strange in her ear and turned her head quickly. Her skull collided with George's nose and blood rushed down onto his clean white Oxford shirt. “Oh, god. Oh, I’m so sorry.” Cynthia said as she tried help stop the hemorrhage. He clutched his nose, embarrassed, and knew he had ruined any chance with her. Great, she thought, I mortally wounded him. There goes that.

***

Check back daily for more photos and stories. Note, I do work so there might be a lag on those days. As always, thanks for reading.

Aleathia