Thanks for the grammar corrections… good to have another eye look out for the fine details.
Flash Fiction / Beautiful Disaster
Adam wasn’t sure if it was a wonderful sign or a sign of disaster, but Adam knew that he had to give her proposition some serious consideration. She was simply too rare not to. They had spent many evenings together and on the phone, contemplating life, existence, the universe, and everything in between. It wasn’t until a few nights ago that she had explicitly stated her feelings for him. He couldn’t quite figure it all out, why she had latched on to him so suddenly, but she had caught his interest from the first moment he laid eyes on her. She carried herself as if she harbored a huge secret, maybe the key to the meaning of life. But something about her piercing eyes and wild hair screamed desperation, for love anc acceptance from anybody. He just so happened to be that somebody, right there cuddled up in the bed with her, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to turn this invitation down.
Despite this odd chemistry between them, Adam was cautious. He had learned a lot about this woman in their past few weeks together, more things than any man would want to know about someone he was trying to mold into his dream girl. She had been so comfortable griping and moaning about every problem in her life, every man, every emotion, every irrational thought and suicidal tendency. From her intense interest the universe and existentialism, to her steadfast belief that the most powerful people on the planet were actually reptilian aliens in disguise, he was enraptured by who she embodied as a person. He knew her mind wasn’t quite right, but her erratic behavior and the multitude of pills she casually popped and spoke of so nonchalantly made her all the more attractive to him.
It was just an idea he had been toying with, up until now. “What if?”, he wondered, “What would it be like to be with such a perfectly damaged woman?” A woman whose life was ruled by orderly disorder. So insecure, but at the same time overflowing with stubborn pride.
His life could go from its every day dull routine to a rip-roaring, manic adventure. They would sleep in tents in the Mojave Desert on the weekends, equipped with nothing but star maps and a telescope. No more canned ravioli dinners boiled just in time for nightly Jeopardy. Instead, she would wake him up at 3am in the middle of July with a Thanksgiving dinner and bottles of champagne. They would paint the walls of the house all colors of the rainbow, blue, purple, yellow, green, just for the hell of it. There would even be a doorbell that sang “O Christmas Tree” all year round. She wouldn’t fret about being appropriate when meeting his colleagues- she would show up to a formal dinner in a red mini and fishnets. His colleagues would give him a good-natured slap on the back and cast a disdainful eye at their own pasty women in burlap sack dresses. He could trade in his frumpy 4-door sedan for a vintage Porsche that would turn out to be a never-ending, never-running project. And she wouldn’t care. She would plan a weekend trip down the coast of Mexico instead. They would break down on the way, of course, leaving the car behind on the side of the road to rust into oblivion, and they’d contemplate spending 3 months on a beach there, selling oysters and beer to tourists. She would love fully, open the floodgates of her heart and let every passerby in, offering them every ounce of empathy she had to give.
For every dollop of love she left in the world, she had 10 of hate laying within her, just festering, waiting. Raw anger and despair. Sometimes she would wake up at 4am in a cold sweat, cursing demons who weren’t there. Her clothes, her hair, and the sheets would be fully drenched because everything this woman would do, she’d do to the extreme, including perspiration. His returns from late nights at work would be met with trails of blood up the stairs and a scattered bottle of pills in the bathroom, inevitably followed by 1 day in the hospital, 3 in the psych ward. Lather, rinse, repeat. He would consider nothing odd about her behavior because she was a passionate woman, and that’s what passionate people were supposed to do. There would be days she would refuse to leave the bed, insisting that imminent death lay just beyond it. He would hoist her over his shoulders and carry her to the bathroom, half exasperated, and half amused that she had found a new way to be quirky. She would stay up for days in a row, running obscure shopping errands during the day in pursuit of a pair of sparkly, red leather gloves, or Post-It notes in the shape of a “K”. At night, she would be at her computer, printing out reams of old classified government documents, chattering nonstop about initiating a new US revolution, or maybe moving to an uninhabited island and starting a new country, all while he would bury his head under the pillow, hoping to make the most of the hour he had left.
His days at the office would get longer, his evenings with her would grow shorter and colder. She would develop a sudden superpower- the ability to smell any woman who had been within 3 feet of him at any point during the day. Her alarm bells would sound nightly, which would result in broken glass and twinkling police lights flooding the street. And then some days she would just shrug her shoulders and disappear for weeks, returning with tales of Caribbean beaches, drug sprees, and still more policemen. And sometimes she would just cry- the most pitiful, desperate, bottomless, gut-wrenching cry he would ever hear. But most of the time she would stare right past him, with the glean of a Glock 17 in her eyes, still smoking and cocked in his direction, poised to fire again.
***
The two of them together. Yes, an adventure that would be. A one-of-a-kind woman, someone he was bound to learn a thing or two from. She lay with her back towards him on the edge of the bed, so still and silent she might have been dead. He looked at the time. It was late and he had an early morning flight to catch back home. He leaned over and pecked her on the forehead before rolling over to sleep. Four hours later he awoke, quietly packed his bag, and stepped out of the door, never looking back.
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snarfus reviewed Version 1 -
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Crysa reviewed Version 1 -
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SM_Worsey reviewed Version 1 -
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I almost stopped reading halfway through the first page, but I’m glad I stuck with it. You’ve got a real talent for acutely observed turns of phrase that really embellish the character.
I don’t know how old this woman is, or what colour hair she has, but I don’t need to, because lines like this: ‘She would stay up for days in a row, running obscure shopping errands during the day in pursuit of a pair of sparkly, red leather gloves, or Post-It notes in the shape of a âKâ.’ ...mean I can really imagine being in the room with her, and imagine how small that room feels! She’s every troubled housemate I’ve ever had, rolled into one. (I can just imagine her made up food allergies that change every other day!)
Thanks for sharing.
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Matthewtuckey reviewed Version 1 -
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‘but Adam knew’- but he knew. Don’t use his name twice that close together.
‘anc’- and. spell check.
‘stated her feelings for him.’- What did she actually say? That is the kind of information that would put us in the scene, and tell us about her character.
‘someone. He was’- separate sentences
‘every man’- she was complaining about every man in her life? As in, she’s dating them all at the same time? That’s what it sounds like.
‘It’s not ‘his return’ that would be met with those things. It’s him that would be.
‘country, all the while’- run-on.
They may be old documents, but wouldn’t they be declassified if they were available to her?
’...evenings with her growing shorter…’ this would prevent the run-on.
‘drug sprees’- do you mean drug binges? Or crime sprees involving drugs? ‘Drug sprees’ isn’t a used phrase, as far as I know.
I think you mean ‘gleam’, as in shine.
You’ve got two interesting characters who do interesting things- we can feel that their relationship is doomed- but I was hoping for a more spectacular fallout at the end.
Lillie_M reviewed Version 1 -
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Wow! I thought this was brilliant, I absolutely loved it.
There was a couple of grammatical errors but I don’t think that’s important as you’ll see them when you edit.
I thought you found the perfect way to describe her without making us pity her ‘illness’. You made me care about her and want to understand her as well as he did. And want to love her as he wanted to. You write so well about her irrationality while still managing to express this in a clear and concise way.
In terms of flash fiction I have read things that are shorter but in all truth this is probably the best I’ve read so far.
Good choice of title, although it could be a contradiction of terms it fits the piece pefectly. Sets the mood of the piece and the characters.
I honestly can’t think of anything that I feel needs improving.
Really well done and good luck for the future.
gemglitter reviewed Version 1 -
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Comments: The way you describe how their life could be was really an awesome idea. I like how you compared the good and the bad of their relation ship could be. I love the details of the Oh Christmas tree door bell, there is one of those houses near by. Their’s plays jingle bells. Also, I like how in the bad portion of their relationship, you give hints of how would still love her. The ending with “get out of jail free card” was great.
Suggestions: In the beginning first two paragraphs it sounds very repetitive. You describe in the first paragraph how they talked about everything on the phone and that they had come to know everything about each other. Your second paragraph pretty much says the same thing. The reader gets that they know who each person is, and that he knows she is a unique woman. I would rework some of the details you have in the second paragraph into the first. Such as the alien bit and suicidal thoughts.
dragonbite reviewed Version 1 -
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“She carried herself as if she harbored a huge secret, maybe the key to the meaning of life.” This is a very good sentence it helps to give meaning to what has already been stated. It is also building a tension for the reader, which is important in keeping our eyes moving forward.
“for love anc” typo-should be and.
It is a very descriptive piece of writing, and you play out the dreams and fantasies very well. In the end the I found myselfself hating you the writer because I wanted to know more…BUT that is exactly what I found extremely artistic about the writing. There is no hollywood crap ending, and that made me glad. This is a good piece of writing, and I am glad I read it.
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