He drops the cigarette on the ground and stubs it out with his foot in the last line.
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Flash Fiction / Occam Had It Easy
“You never seem to learn, do you?” I watched the back of his hands as he rolled a cigarette. They were smooth, white silk over stone. Some animal part of my brain keened. I stepped back, the cool stone of the crypt halting my retreat.
He went through the motions unconsciously, palming the tiny box of rolling papers, drawing a sheet with a single fingertip, creasing it into a half-cylinder. His eyes were mismatched, one the color of the winter sky, the other an amber brown. I was transfixed. He glanced down to tap a line of tobacco, curling the paper into a tube and holding it to his mouth. ”How many times have we had this conversation?”
I opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out. Ashes. Dust. He regarded me with the air of bored aristocracy, and I had to confess, he pulled it off. Italian suit, Rolex watch, perfectly manicured nails. Standing in a deserted cemetery at three o’clock in the morning. I started again. ”Only the once.” It was a whisper, but it was better than nothing.
“Only the once,” he echoed, the cigarette held between perfectly shaped lips. He cupped his hands around the flame from his lighter and puffed once, twice. Blue smoke curled up around his face like a perverted halo. God’s forgotten angel, broken and beautiful. ”And what did I tell you the last time?”
This time the words were a touch more forthcoming. ”Not to—not to come back. Unless—” My voice failed me at the memory of his offer. His threat.
“Unless?”
“Unless I wanted to be with you.” That spoken, the night seemed to come crashing back in on me. Cold starlight, the hum of the sodium arc light across the street, a lone night bird complaining somewhere in the distance.
“So, is that why you’re here?” He came closer and I could not move. I had grown roots, turned to stone. He leaned back against the crypt, shoulder to shoulder with me, releasing me from the weight of his gaze. ”Has the kiss of the sun grown so repulsive to you? Does the sound of your pulse pounding in your ears need to be silenced? Hmm?” The words were addressed to the sky.
He was so close I could breathe him in, taste his scent on my tongue. Some dim, exotic spice mingled with the smoke and tinge of alcohol. Beneath it, a familiar bass note of masculinity. ”I miss you.”
He slipped his hands into his pockets, his eyes dropping. The ghost of the man I remembered nudged something on the path with the toe of his boot. What I wouldn’t give to be the focus of that intensity again. ”Perhaps,” he mused.
“I do,” I dared to touch him, my hand resting on his forearm. I felt him tense.
“Don’t,” he murmured. ”Don’t make this any harder than it already is.” He took a long drag on the cigarette, the hiss of burning tobacco loud in the interim silence. I focused on the glowing coal at its tip, flaring and then fading as he drew air into his lungs. Breathing by choice. ”Go home, Em.”
“What if I don’t want to—”
“Go home.” He dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it with a twist of his foot before turning that ice cold gaze on me again. “Go home and kiss your mother goodbye.”
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jennyjanuary reviewed Version 3 -
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You are obviously adept at creating an atmosphere. I loved your description, and found myself just as drawn to this man as your protagonist was. I think this is a very successful piece of flash fiction, because it has an arc -- I expected him to be malicious, and I was pleasantly surprised by the way he handled your protagonist. I am definitely interested in know what their relationship is/was. He seemed otherworldly -- an angel or a demon, a daimon, a vampire, etc. I hope you expand it some day.
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quaintfungus reviewed Version 3 -
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I like this piece. It has a comic book horror sensibility to it. The writer dosn’t try to do too much with the work. Letting the reader imagination free to roam. It has a genuinely creepy atmosphere to it. I can find very little to pick holes in either the dialouge or the grammar. I felt that there was a bit at the end where the character may have put a burning cigarette in his pocket. but that aside i enjoyed the whole fiction. Well done
atornheartmend reviewed Version 3 -
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Good. If I would have known in the beginning that this was a vampire story… I wouldn’t have even given this a chance. I’m glad I didn’t, I was fully entertained throughout. The only complaint i have is the “Don’t make this any harder than it already is” line. It’s a cliche (not that cliche isn’t a cliche) and I’m sure you can think of something better. I loved the last line.
Nani reviewed Version 3 -
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You are adept at painting the scene with your words, I was drawn in.
I was often confused as to who was speaking, and that broke the rhythm of the story, I kept having to go back and figure it out. Unless I’m the only one having trouble with this, I think you need to use formatting or some other indication to be clearer on who is speaking.
Last line was unsatisfying, the reference to the mother. Doesn’t seem to fit in with the relationship or the conversation; comes out of nowhere and left me kind of wishing there were more to the story, to bring it to some kind of conclusion.
blimprue reviewed Version 3 -
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I guess the dead can smoke all they wants huh? Excellent visceral details-smoke correlates well with graveyards and Ecclesiastean vanity; I can feel the cool silk intermingling with colder stone. The most mutilated, near-death cats always seem to have mismatched eyes…
Mr. Occam’s simplifying explanations is easier than life and death decisions, do you think the title might confuse some people?
I enjoyed this, as I think it is a viable example of flash fiction, and I am in the process of writing my first piece in this genre…
robertryburn reviewed Version 3 -
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Great read and your words made me feel what you were writing. When a writer can make a reader feel she/he has accomplished what they have written.
Spelling and grammer is good. Your who,what,when,where,why, and how are all there.
Keep writing writer.
Icarus_in_Asbestos reviewed Version 3 -
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The words were addressed to the sky. I love that sentence. It would have made a fine title, too. Yeah, you got the goods. I may be biased, but I love rough and tumble ‘hard boiled’ dialog like this. It’s really good stuff.
jweeble reviewed Version 2 -
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OOHHH! Gave me chills. Very nice.
Pulls you in with silken strings. Nice twist on the ending.
Because this is breathtaking already, I’m focusing on the grammar. Only a couple little errors.
keened, and I stepped back(runon)
3rd paragraph – could use : to fix fragments, but could also say artistic license:).
Please write more!
gemglitter reviewed Version 1 -
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A perfect ten, except for the last line. This piece is awesome. I love your descriptions of the pounding pulse, and can we talk about the your first paragraph, sent chills up my spine! The whole silk over stone paints a great picture. I like how u built tension with the dialog. The last sentence about the mother, I don’t know, to me it just doesn’t fit. It sounds like slang, or something a cold aristocrat might say. Just a thought. Bravo!
8281magerk reviewed Version 1 -
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You need to expand on this, it is a wonderfully emotional story. One that engaged me immediately and didn’t let go until the end. The emotional confusion in the protagonist is evident and very well articulated. Your decision to keep the protagonist genderless is a good one that augments the rest of the story. I look forward to reading more of your work.
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