Dear Diary

The Erotic Woman has published my flash piece, Dear Diary, on their main page this week. It was the winner of their Tempted Competition a few months ago and is now residing in their prose archives. If you didn't check it out before, here's another chance. (Note that there's an image on the page that's not work appropriate - i.e. there's nekkidness.)

FFC - Elements

Reacquaintance, by Kathleen Oxley

Air . . .

Melinda smiled as the storm raged against the shore. The wind whipped her skirt around her legs and her hair thrashed her face. She closed her eyes and stretched open her arms. The air circled her until she felt it would lift her off the ground. She opened her eyes and glanced down to confirm that her toes were still digging into the sand.

She fleetingly wished she could be inside, enjoying the storm through the protection of walls and windows. But she quickly erased that thought from her mind and instead she concentrated on her task for the night. She turned her face up to the sky and opened her senses to the space around her - the salty smell of the beach that carried in the air and the sharp sting as it berated her skin.

She lost herself to the sensations until the air calmed and became only a slight breeze off the water.

Fire . . .

Melinda spent the cool Spring day collecting twigs and dried leaves for kindling. At dusk, as the blanket of darkness grew closer, she knelt inside the circle of stones and watched as the flame slowly grew. She stayed close even as the fire raged to life.

Leaning back on her heels, she stared into the hazy mix of red, yellow and orange. Tears pooled in her eyes from the heat and smoke, but her vision became clearer. Images flashed in the fire – of past, present or future, she did not know. She watched them closely, paying attention to every detail until they slowed and then disappeared.

After several minutes of silence, Melinda closed her eyes and thanked the Goddess for her visions. She moved out of the circle of stones, cheeks flushed red from the heat of being so close, and followed the dirt path back to her home.

Water . . .

Reaching the shore, Melinda undid the sash of her robe and let it fall to the ground. She walked naked toward the ocean. She reached the edge of the water and let the white foam tickle the tops of her feet. The brief rush of water was cold and she shivered as she followed the receding wave back into the water. Her body chilled as the level rose higher, but she continued walking until it lapped at her shoulders. She stood for several minutes, moving her arms and legs absently, until her body adjusted to the temperature.

She shifted so that she floated on top of the waves. She spread her limbs and let the current carry her. She sighed at the freedom of the water cradling and holding her. She splayed her fingers and moved her arms in close to her body and then stretched out again, letting the water flow through her fingers as she did. Totally at ease, Melinda closed her eyes and drifted. Her mind cleared of all thoughts and worries as her body rose and fell on the small waves, wetness tickling the skin of her belly and breasts.

Earth . . .

The strong scent of earth rose as she dug her spade into the dirt. Melinda was in her backyard, tending to her garden. Some might consider the many beds luxurious, but Melinda saw them as merely the basics that she required. She grew flowers for their beauty, herbs for her medicines and spells, and vegetables for eating. She wore no gloves and didn't shy away from getting her hands dirty. She lovingly inspected each plant, weeding the flowerbeds and trimming the herbs as she went along. Then she planted new seeds for vegetables for the summer - mostly cucumbers, lettuce and carrots.

She put the last seeds into the ground and patted the soil as she covered them. She filled her copper watering can and wet each of the beds. Melinda stood back and smiled at the results of her hard work. She brushed dirt off of her clothes and stared at her hands. She smiled at the dirt-stained skin and at the soil under her fingernails. To her they were the signs of a job well done and of a union with the earth and the plants she tended.

Spirit . . .

Melinda awoke filled with a new-found strength. Getting back to the basics always left her feeling clean and refreshed. She gathered her tools, including her boline, several crystals and candles, and packed them up. She couldn't wait to join the rest of her coven for the Beltane festival. Now she could face the ritual, and the year ahead, balanced and centered.

Ruthie's Club - You Always Know

My flash story, You Always Know, is being featured this week at Ruthie's Club. (Ruthie's Club is a members-only site, so the link won't work unless you are a member. You can pay to join, or just trust me that it's a cool story.)

April Showers...

...bring lots to do!!

I've been reviewing my list of calls/contests and trying to decide what my next project is going to be. The good news is that I have no shortage of things to pick from. The bad news is that I want to do them all! I'm going to list them here, so you can see how crazy I am. And I'll update throughout and at the end of the month with how much I actually got done.

April FFC - Earth, Fire, Water, Air
Maximum of 1,000 words due on 4/15/2008.

O&C Erotica Adventures
2,000 - 6,000 words due on 4/15/2008.

O&C Anthology
2,000 - 6,000 words due on 4/20/2008.

There are some other things due 5/1/2008 that I'm considering, but I won't make definite decisions on those or bother you with the details until the next week or so.

Wish me luck!!

Fiction Friday at the Romance Roundtable

The Romance Roundtable has recently started a new carnival:

On Fiction Fridays we well provide you with links to a wide variety of authors, some Romance writers, and some not. Offerings may include short stories, poetry, book exerpts and seriels. Each Fiction Friday will provide a different selection.

Today their links will include my ferret flash story, WTF!, as well as some other great reads. Check it out!! (And thanks, Alice, for including me this week!)

~Kat

Flash Friday - Ferrets

Picture prompted flash writing is one of the exercises we do on the Writer's Retreat. We take turns posting a picture and everyone writes a flash piece in response (500 word limit). Here's an example, and the story I wrote in response to this picture prompt:


Title: WTF!

By: Kathleen Oxley

Word Count: 419

Well, I guess the grass really isn't always greener. I mean, really. All those months stuck in that fucking glass cage. Little fingers tapping on that glass - my god, the racket. Thump, thump, thump. I just wanted to sleep and chew on my pellets in peace for Christ's sake!

What'd I tell Ronnie? Just wait till we get outta here, Ronnie. Just you wait. Things will get so much better. Fuck, shows what I know.

Damn, I miss Ronnie. At least I used to have her to talk to. And I'll kill anyone who repeats it, but she was nice to cuddle up with too. She didn't hog the hammock either! Man, those were the days.

I don't even have a hammock anymore. And I'm still in a glass cage, but now it's like I've downgraded from a mansion to a fucking condo. I can barely breathe in that space. You really should not have to eat and shit in such close proximity, it's just not healthy. And she screams at me when I shit behind the sofa. But, truly, can you blame me?

At least I got that leash thing settled early. To think she actually thought I'd prance along all dignified on the end of a string. I'm not a freakin' dog, lady! Oh, and you see this bag? It's PINK! PINK?!?! Do I look like the pink kinda guy to you? I don't care if it is the hottest accessory, I look like a total fairy! I should be glad Ronnie isn't here to see this. Gads, she'd never let me hear the end of it.

The only thing I have to look forward to is the hope that we're going to visit that chick with the stupid cat. I mean, he's so fat and lazy and they think it's all cute that I can chase him around the house. At least I get some exercise and get to make someone else feel like the bitch for a change.

Oh god, no! NO! Anything but that - please, lady, save my sanity. Anything but Hannah Montana. Anything! Don't you have any musical taste at all? Where did they breed you?

Ugh! I give up. Don't you smile and sing at me! And don't you pet me either, you hideous demon spawn! Truly, you stick that hand in here one more time and I'm gonna bite off a digit. I mean it this time - fingers will be lost. A ferret can only take so much!

FFC - Spring

Sorry I'm a little late with this one. This is my entry for the FFC 2008 Spring edition.


Easter Eve (408 words)
By: Kathleen Oxley

It was Saturday night and Cynthia was tucking one of the last eggs behind a pillow on the sofa. She glanced around the room. Under and around the furniture, bright little plastic eggs peeked out at her. Tomorrow morning was Bryan's fourth Easter and she knew he was going to love running around the house finding the eggs until his basket was full.

Cynthia sighed and sat down on the couch. It was late, almost midnight. She'd checked on Bryan before getting started and he was snoring softly in his room. She had enjoyed filling each of the eggs. There were some with the typical Easter candy, but not too many. Her son was hyper enough without the help of excessive amounts of sugar.

Many of the eggs held small toys - a bouncy ball, matchbox car, etc. Inexpensive trinkets that she picked out carefully, even knowing that Bryan would play with each briefly before moving on to the next item. A few of the eggs even held money - about ten dollars total split up into some singles and some change, with one egg holding a five dollar bill. She planned to take Bryan to the toy store next week to allow him to pick something out for himself.

She silently wished she could do more for him, to give him a big fancy Easter basket filled with new toys. But, she couldn't. This was the best she could do. She knew it would be enough, that Bryan would enjoy hunting for the eggs and that he would get excited about each one and what it held inside. But, she always wished she could do more.

She also hated that Bryan's dad couldn't be here to see him and to celebrate with them. She would take lots of pictures and email them to Martin next week, but it wasn't the same. He was in the Army and had shipped out to Iraq a little over a month ago. He would be gone almost a year this time, and already she felt lost without him. Holidays were always difficult, but she would put on a smile for Bryan and make the best of it.

Tomorrow they would go to church and pray for his safe return, but tonight, Cynthia would go to sleep alone in their bed. She looked around one more time to make sure everything was in place before creeping down the hallway to her room.

FFC - Letters & Numbers

The March topic for FFC was letters and/or numbers.

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Flight 1580 (600 words)
By: Kathleen Oxley

"Flight 1580, service to Memphis, now boarding gate B2."

Paul had his arm around my shoulder and he squeezed, letting me know that was us. We stood up and walked toward the gate. I had my ticket in my hand, but nothing else. This trip wasn't exactly planned.

We'd driven home the day before to visit my dad in the hospital, not expecting it to be a lengthy stay. But, it hadn't turned out that way. He died within an hour of our arrival, barely enough time to say good-bye. Now we were headed home to pack a bag for the week and grab clothes suitable for the upcoming 'events'.

Paul and I boarded the plane and found our seats. I sat numbly next to the window, oblivious to everyone talking and moving around us. I stared out the window, stared at the seat in front of me, but didn't see anything. None of it mattered now. It didn't matter where I was going, who I was with, what people were saying.

The plane took off and I watched the world slowly shrink away. The view matched how I felt - detached, removed, no longer grounded on the earth.

Paul grabbed my hand in his, squeezing in reassurance. I looked at him and he smiled at me. I smiled back, but didn't feel it. He could tell, but still we went through the motions. Trying to pretend that our entire lives weren't changed forever. But, they were. Whatever we had been before, it would all be different now. I would be different. I couldn't feel much, but I felt that.

I turned to look back out the window. Blue skies and fluffy clouds filled my vision. I imagined angels in the sky, peeking over the clouds to look down at the earth. I'm not a religious person, but the notion of the ones we love sitting together in the sky looking down on us is one I just can't escape. I guess that's my way of not letting go of the people I've lost.

"Daddy," I whisper, my hand against the glass. I know he's not there, but still I can't release the feeling that if I look hard enough, I'll see him. If I can just find the right cloud, he'll peek out at me, smile at me.

Tears begin rolling down my cheeks as I stare harder, completely intent in my purpose. The rest of the plane totally falls out of my awareness. And, finally, something feels right. This feels right. The solitude, loneliness, hopelessness fits me so comfortably. I wrap it around me. The tears continue to fall and I'm alternately talking to myself and to the angels.

Memories roll through my mind. Our last Christmas together, his last breath, my favorite picture of us where we're smiling twin smiles. I think of things said and unsaid, questions unanswered.

I'm startled as Paul grabs my hand again. I open my eyes to see the airport now outside my window.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to welcome you to Memphis, where the local time is now nine fifty-five a.m."

I sigh and wipe my cheeks. Paul smiles at me again, gives me that 'I don't know what to do' look. I don't know what to do either. Except to get off the plane, go pack my bag, take the next steps one at a time. I know there's a new journey ahead of me, one I can't anticipate and don't know where it will take me. But Paul holds my hand as we take those next steps together.

March FADness

I am participating in the March FADness AW Flash-a-day competition and am super-psyched about it!!

What is March FADness, you ask?

Everyday in the month of March, a prompt for a flash fiction piece will be posted here. You write a story either using the prompt or not. It's your choice.

At the end of the month, you have five days to choose your favorite story and polish it. Submit the stories, including word count and title. The stories must be previously unposted, written during the month of March, and they must be under 1000 words. The stories will be posted and then opened up for a board-wide vote. The winner will be offered a contract and publication in Coyote Wild Magazine.

Happy Flashing to everyone who's participating!!

~Kat

Picture Prompted Flash #2

This week's picture was too good not to include (see above). Below is the flash story I wrote in response.

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Lake House
(598 words)

I crept silently down the dock that led out onto the lake. It was dark and the only light was the glow of the full moon overhead. The summer evening was warm with just the slightest breeze in the air. The perfect evening for a midnight swim.

I sat down on the end of the dock to take off my shoes and socks. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and dropped it on top of my shoes. I sat there a moment longer, enjoying the solitude. I heard the familiar sounds of crickets and frogs, of the water lapping against the posts of the dock beneath me. I stood and began unbuttoning my denim shorts but paused at the sound of water splashing.

I turned my gaze out to the lake and stared intently, trying to locate the source of the sound. In the gleam of the moonlight I saw a pale hand raise out of the water and next to it a smiling face. My breath caught in my throat, fear filling me. Was it a ghost? I stood still, unable to move. The hand lifted from the water again and this time I saw a foot kick lightly against the surface of the water.

I watched as the figure began to drift toward the dock, using arms and legs to direct her travel in my direction. I took a step back away from the edge of the dock and was leaning down to grab my shirt and shoes when I heard a familiar voice.

"Wait," she said.

I looked quickly back to the water and this time recognized the beautiful face of Rose. Her family owned the cabin next to ours and like us, they spent their summers here at the lake. She was treading water several feet away from the dock and the thin white gown she wore clung to her curves. I watched as her breasts bobbed in the water with her movement.

"Hey," I said, standing up and taking a step back toward the edge of the dock. She smiled up at me.

"Didn't you come out here to swim?"

"Yeah, I'd planned on it. I didn't think anyone else would be out here."

"My family's leaving tomorrow to go back home," she said sadly.

"Oh," I said. I wasn't sure why she was telling me this.

"I thought maybe you'd come swim with me, since it's my last night here."

"Oh, sure," I said lamely, still standing on the dock not really understanding.

"I wanted to tell you good-bye," she said, face down toward the water.

I looked at her and when she glanced up at me, I finally saw what I had been missing all summer. She wanted me.

We stared at each other for a few moments and then she cocked her head at me in question. In answer, I slowly slipped into the lake and treaded water a few feet away from her. She floated toward me, her creamy skin almost glowing in the moonlight. She reached out and placed her hands on my shoulders, her breasts brushing against my chest. I leaned forward and kissed her hesitantly on her lips. She responded with enthusiasm and soon I was pulling her against me, our legs rubbing together as we continued to tread water.

We stayed out all night, talking and swimming and saying good-bye.

Her family packed up and left the next day and my family left a few weeks later. The next summer I found out Rose's family had sold their house. I never saw her again.

Valentine's FFC Listing

The complete list of participating stories for the Valentine's Flash Fiction Carnival has been posted. Check out the list here to view all the submitted stories on the topic of Love.

~Kat

A Valentine's Short...

Alice's eyes widened from behind the counter as the courier entered, shielded behind a cascade of vibrant roses. They had to be for Emily. Her latest boyfriend was always showering her with gifts, and Valentine's day was coming up this week.

Alice smiled as the man approached and set the vase on the counter. She could smell the rich scent of the bouquet and she leaned forward to breathe it in. The heady perfume filled her head as she admired the blooms. They were yellow and orange by the stems and then faded to deep red and pink on the tips of the petals.

The man looked at the card and then at her, "Is Alice here?"

"I'm Alice," she stammered.

"These are for you," he said.

"What?"

He smiled at her, "Somebody must think you're pretty special."

"Yeah," she said absently. She couldn't take her eyes off the flowers. She reached for the card and began to open it as the man turned to leave.

"Have a good day," she called to him. He smiled and waved as he walked out of the shop.

The card read, "143."

A cryptic message, but she knew the flowers had to be from Josh. They'd been dating for several months now and were starting to get serious. But, he wasn't usually the romantic type. She picked up the phone by the register and dialed his cell.

"Hey," he answered.

"Hey. I'm at work and you won't believe what's on the counter," she said, the smile on her face coming through in her voice.

"Oh yeah. What's on the counter?" he asked, obviously playing along with her game.

"A dozen of the most beautiful roses I've ever seen." Alice's voice was positively giddy.

"You like them?" he asked.

"Of course I do. They're gorgeous."

"They're sunset roses," he stated proudly.

"That's exactly what they look like! They've got shades of yellow and orange and red."

"I'm glad you like them."

"Oh, I do. Thank you. I forgot to say it earlier, but thanks. I can't believe you sent me flowers."

"Well, it is Valentine's this week."

"True," she said.

"Are you coming over after work?" he asked.

"Yes, I'd like to."

"That'd be great. I've got to get a few more things done at the office this afternoon, but I'll see you there tonight."

"That sounds good," she said.

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

Alice hung up the phone and glanced at the clock. It was three thirty. Emily was scheduled to work at four and then Alice could leave at five. Maybe she'd scoot out a little early today if they weren't busy.

She looked down at the card in her hand and realized she had forgotten to ask what one-four-three meant. Unfortunately she needed to get back to work so she resisted the urge to call Josh back. She'd just have to be patient and wait till tonight. Five o'clock couldn't come fast enough.

Emily ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the flowers when she arrived and agreed that they were the most beautiful roses she'd ever seen. Alice watched the clock tick by slowly until four forty-five when she asked Emily if she could leave just a little bit early today. Emily smiled and told her she didn't mind in the least.

Alice decided to leave the flowers at work since she would be back the next morning. Besides, she liked displaying them where people could comment and ask her who they were from. She didn't get that sort of attention often, and wanted to enjoy the sudden adoration Josh had lavished on her. She pulled one stem out of the vase and took it with her as she walked out of the store. She sniffed the flower on the way to her car, inhaling it's rich scent. She smiled as she thought of Josh talking with the florist, taking the time to pick out something special and not just going with the standard red roses.

She left work and drove straight to Josh's apartment. He answered the door with an expectant grin.

Alice leaned in and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Josh pulled her to him and inside the apartment, closing the door behind them. Her hands were on his shoulders, holding him close to her. He leaned her against the back of the door as their kiss deepened. This heat had been between them from the beginning, and the strength of it still amazed them both.

When they broke from the kiss, Alice leaned her head back against the door. Her mouth was curved in a satisfied smile and her cheeks were flushed. She still had the single rose in one hand and she lifted it to run the bloom down her cheek. Her eyes closed and a sigh left her lips at the feel of velvety softness against her skin.

Josh took the rose from her and taking her hand in his, led her down the short hallway to his bedroom. Their eyes stayed locked one another as they slowly undressed. Alice laid back on the bed and Josh moved to lay beside her, the rose in his hand. He leaned over her and skimmed the petals along he r body. He traced the curve of her neck and collarbone before running it between the mounds of her breasts. He continued teasing her with feather caresses until Alice was writhing on the bed. He set the flower aside and began to move on top of her.

As he looked down at her she gave him a quizzical look and whispered, "I forgot to ask earlier, but what does one-four-three mean?"

Josh smiled as he replied, "It's the number of letters in each of the words."

Alice cocked her head at him.

"I love you," Josh murmured.

Understanding dawned on Alice's face, but before she could voice her amazement, he captured her mouth in an ardent kiss.

Accepted at Ruthie's Club

This just in...

As to the three Flash stories, they are (in relation to our extremely high Flash standards at Ruthie's Club) not bad but not great. However, I think we should accept them on trust, because your style is crisp and neat, and because I have a hunch that you will take a step up or two once you find your way in our Flash community.

By way of criticism, there is not enough happening in any of the three submissions, especially Wedding Night. Really high class Flash packs much more of a story into 300 words. We should be getting motive, and character development, and strong hints of stories past and future. The best Flash is not a snapshot. It is a complete, fully-rounded and fully-developed story, artfully truncated.

My partner will be in touch about our further requirements and your benefits. When you get into the site, go straight to the (very large) Flash section and dig around. You'll soon see what I'm talking about.

Yay!! This is my first acceptance to a paying gig! I really appreciate the honest feedback I received from them and hope to incorporate these points in the future to improve my flash stories! I'm waiting to hear back about my "further requirements and benefits", but I'm very excited to have been accepted. Ruthie's Club is a subscription site, so I may not be able to provide direct links to my published work there.

~Kat

February FFC Listing

The complete listing of participating stories for the February Flash Fiction Carnival has been posted. Check out the list here to view all the submitted stories on the topic of Cowardice.

~Kat

Picture Prompted Flash #1

Picture prompted flash writing is one of the exercises we do on the Writer's Retreat. We take turns posting a picture and everyone writes a flash piece in response (500 word limit). Here's my piece for this week. The picture is hard to explain (and I'm not going to post it here for copyright reasons) but it doesn't play a huge role in the piece anyway.

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Sleeping Over
(Word count: 499)

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

Gloria's eyes fluttered open as she slowly began to wake up. She was stretched out on the black leather sofa, her head resting on Bryan's lap. She glanced at the TV and saw a man with arms raised toward a cloud-filled sky.

"Who is that?" she asked in confusion.

"You've missed too much for me to explain it, we'll rent the movie again another time." Bryan smiled down at her.

"Sorry I fell asleep," she said. "It's been a really long week."

"It's not a big deal. I could tell you were tired, you barely made it through the first half hour." Bryan ran his hands through her hair as he spoke.

Gloria yawned and nodded.

"You going to drive home, or do you want to stay here?" Bryan asked her.

"I was planning to go home, I don't have a change of clothes with me," she told him.

"I'm not sure you should drive home. You can barely keep your eyes open."

"True. You don't mind me crashing here?" she asked.

"Of course not. Come on, we'll get you settled upstairs."

Gloria sat up and took Bryan's offered hand. He led her upstairs and into a small guest room. He turned on the lamp on the nightstand and pulled back the covers.

"Could I borrow a t-shirt to sleep in?" she asked.

"Sure, be right back," Bryan told her.

Gloria sat down on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes. Bryan returned and handed her a shirt. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight, sleepy head. I'm right across the hall if you need anything."

"You're being such a gentleman," Gloria pointed out.

He smiled at her. "What did you expect? You're exhausted and you've never stayed here before."

"True," she smiled back at him. "Good night."

"Night," he said again, and left the room.

Gloria quickly undressed and pulled the borrowed t-shirt over her head. It was one she recognized, one that Bryan wore frequently. It was soft and worn and smelled of him. She crawled between the sheets and turned off the lamp.

She laid there for a while trying to get back to sleep, but it seemed she was no longer tired. Maybe it was being in a new place, or the smell of Bryan from the shirt, or knowing that he was just across the hall from her in his own bed. She stayed in bed for a while longer, staring at the ceiling and letting her mind wander. She finally realized that her mind kept wandering back to the same thing. She wanted to be in the bed across the hall. She finally gave up and with a sigh, threw back the covers and got out of bed.

She stepped quietly across the hall and stood silently outside his door. After a moment she heard the sounds of movement from inside the room. She lifted her hand and knocked lightly on the door.

FFC - Cowardice

A friend of mine recently told me about Flash Fiction Carnival. This month's topic is "cowardice" and below is my flash piece. I really didn't like the topic, and had a hard time coming up with something. I figured that in these cases it would be best to try to work on a particular skill. So, I tried to focus on characterization and voice in this piece.

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A Tough Decision

"I am not being a coward." Susanna thought that if she just kept telling herself that, maybe eventually she would come to believe it.

She had known that sleeping with Bobby would be a mistake. But, she loved him and he had told her he loved her too. It was easy to look into those deep brown eyes of his and believe him. It probably didn't hurt that she had wanted to believe him. Had wanted him to love her. And once his hands had started to creep under her skirt, she hadn't wanted him to stop either.

But, once again, her mama was right. Good girls don't go parking with boys, just like good girls don't wear short skirts. But she had gone parking with Bobby, wearing a skirt that was too short. She had proven she was not a good girl. And now, she was paying the price.

Susanna spent the first month in denial, certain that there was some other explanation for her missed period. But, after the second month she knew she had to find out for sure.

She borrowed the car and drove 45 minutes away to go to a Wal-Mart where nobody would recognize her. She bought the test and then snuck into the store's bathroom. She wanted to leave all evidence behind where it could not be traced back to her.

This plan had made complete sense to her until she looked down at her fate in the form of an x on a stick. Then she didn't want to be sitting on the toilet in the Wal-Mart. And she didn't want to be alone. She wanted to be held by her mama or even Bobby. She wanted somebody to tell her it was all going to be okay. But, nobody had done that.

She told Bobby, although now she wished she hadn't. He got mad and angry. He didn't want to believe she was pregnant at first, then didn't want to believe it was his. She finally begged him just not to tell anybody. She didn't want anything from him but for him to not tell anyone.

She thought about telling her parents. But she knew mama would never forgive her and she couldn't stand to think of what daddy's face would look like when he found out she really wasn't his 'perfect little angel'.

So, she was taking the only other option she saw available to her. She was leaving. Susanna looked down at the small duffel bag between her feet. It held everything that mattered to her. Everything that she thought she couldn't live without. It wasn't much. Some clothes, her diary, a few family pictures. She had some money saved up from working last summer at the supermarket.

She had a one way ticket on a Greyhound bus going to Birmingham. She wasn't sure what she'd do when she got there. But, she'd figure out something. She was smart, capable.

She just had to get out of town before she started showing and everybody learned what had happened. Better to disappear than to stick around and face the shame.

Tempted Competition

This just in...

...from The Erotic Woman.com...congratulations! You are one of two winners in January's Tempted Competition. We had more than 50 entries so there was tough competition, but we especially loved how you closed out your Dear Diary entry (with your husband coming home), that was a very strong finish and exactly the type of thing we were looking for.

Your entry is currently on feature within the Competition section of the main menu, and the winners announcement is also leading the latest features.

YAY!!!!!

You can view my winning entry here.

Prompted Flash

Every now and then I'll write flash prose based off provided prompts. (I usually don't write erotica for these, but rather use them as an exercise to try something different.) Here's one from the Writer's Retreat.

Prompt:
You are a middle-aged woman. You are dressed all in black. You are walking in New York's Central Park. It's night. Who are you, and what are you doing? (300 word limit)

My response:
(300 words)

Janet walked silently through the park. It was a crisp fall afternoon. The wind was calm and the air was cool, but not cold. There were people strolling around, families picnicking, children playing. It all went by in a blur around her. She had been surrounded by people for so long and all she wanted was to walk in silence. To not be forced to smile or nod, not to pretend to be okay. She just wanted to breathe in the air and take in the freedom of space.

She walked on and on. She had no particular destination in mind, no goal; she just wanted to keep moving. If she could have walked to the end of the earth, she would have. But there was no escape. Eventually she would have to go back and face the well-meaning friends and relatives.

She reached a small white bridge and began to cross it. She paused halfway across and turned to the side. She leaned down, resting her elbows on the concrete railing. She watched the ducks gliding along on the water below. She got lost watching the swirl and flow of the water until her vision began to blur.

She reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes, but it was no use. There was no stopping them now. She ducked her chin into her chest and sobbed the tears that had eluded her these past days.

How could he be gone? How could it be possible they would never walk through the park, hand-in-hand, again? What had she done to deserve this? How could she possibly keep going with her life?

Her hands fisted and beat against the railing in rage. She wanted to cry out, to scream her anger. But, instead, she stood up and kept walking.

Note:
I didn't notice the "It's night." part of the prompt until this was written and decided not to go back and change it.

~ Kat