Welcome to Flash Fiction Friday and the one hundred and sixtieth piece in this series. This week’s is a 144-worder (made up of 6-word stories!) by Mark K.
True Love Never Dies
“We shared something special,” she said.
A glance, soft smile, not meant.
“Then unpack your bags and stay!”
My throat felt raked by claws.
“Try to accept it’s over, Steve.”
“Can’t believe you don’t love me.”
“You’ll be fine, find someone else.”
“There is no one else for—”
“I can’t. I’m sorry… Don’t beg.”
“I’ve forgiven you. Isn’t that enough?”
“He’s here. I have to go.”
The door closed, my lips trembled.
Sweet silence reigned. She’d left me.
Then diamond tears tracked furrowed cheeks.
That night I cried a monsoon.
I so missed her sugary smile.
And her voice; that angel’s whisper.
Loneliness hurt more than her cheating.
Pretty soon, isolation shape-shifted into rage.
She had to die. Her fault.
One gun, one bullet. Death guaranteed.
I live inside four walls now.
Been told I will do forever.
Will I love again? Never, Ever!
I asked Mark what prompted this piece and he said…
A friend of mine passed away recently, someone I’d known since childhood. I was in love with her once, though it never worked out. When the relationship ended it took a while, but we became close again, as friends, nothing more.
At her funeral I remembered when we were young, of how, with the energy of a couple of atom bombs, she and I tore through life. Two bubbling kids, we harboured hopes for the future. Secret hopes we would never tell each other about, just hint at.
Years later when we officially became an item, my dreams had come true. It didn’t take long for the problems to surface. Whereas I couldn’t picture my life without her, she couldn’t picture hers with me.
I clung to her like velcro. Right up until the day she left I thought we could make it work. How wrong was I?
As the curtains closed and the fire took her away, the years collapsed in on themselves and I recalled how much I wanted her to suffer back then, how I wanted her to hurt as much as I was hurting, even more so.
Yes, it’s childish! Yes, it’s spiteful! There’s no logic to it! But when we are talking about love; where is there room for logic? Love can take you to the brink.
Some people, like the guy in the story took that next step. I never did, nor would I ever. I suppose the potential is there, as it is in everyone given the right circumstances.
It wasn’t until I’d laid the flowers at the foot of the plaque I’d made for her, that I realised I was still in love with her, that I had always been in love with her, and that in some way, I always will be.
I suppose it’s true when they say that true love never dies.
That was really sad but proof that everything is fiction fodder. Thank you, Mark.
- and guest blogs about short stories on this blog: Alberta Ross, Jane Hertenstein, Helen M Hunt, Morgen Bailey, Sarah Grace Logan, Warren Bull.
You can contact me and find me on the internet, view my books (including my debut novel The Serial Dater’s Shopping List, various short story collections and writer’s block workbooks) and If you like this blog, you can help me keep it running by donating. Thank you.
For anyone looking for an editor, do take a look at Editing and Critique.
If you would like to send me a book review of another author’s books or like your book reviewed (short stories, contemporary crime / women’s novels or writing guides), see book-reviews for the guidelines. Other options listed on opportunities-on-this-blog. And I post writing exercises every weekday on four online writing groups.