Too many choices (flash friday) (all of the above) in fiction: flash, one word, etc.

This is the end of Friday, and I didn't flash yet. (WRITE a flash!) Wait. Let's be honest. It is the beginning of Saturday and I've spent several fifteen minute sessions staring at the list of flash topics, as well as the list of "prompts" i got in workshop the other day and for each one, i see an image and none of the images want to develop into stories.

It all reminds me of when we bought our first house. Yes yes, gather round kids, because this is a story from the almost 80s. We were young... newly married. We lived in cold barren Iowa. We were splitting the distance of a 90 mile commute... he went north and I went south. As a wedding gift, we'd bought a dog. A soon to be 90 pound black lab named Barney, who was purebred with no papers because some idiot had brought his mother to the vet to be disposed of. The vet loved labs, nursed her to health and bred her with his own champion, and of the nine pups who resulted, we got Barney. I wish i knew how we dealt with him during the days when i was driving south at 8 in the morning and coming home at 8 at night, and my husband was leaving to go north at dawn and coming back after dusk. It would be a big deal for me now, because I can't leave my current dogs for more than three hours without extreme guilt, and we have covered areas and fenced back yard and i don't ever leave them in the yard alone. So how good old Barney spent his days is lost to my youthful memories, but since he's not the topic of this piece...

Where was I? Oh yes, Had to get out of the rental houses so we could have more space, loud parties (baby lawyers like parties) and room for the dog. So we made a deal with a spec builder on the then outskirts of Des Moines, my husband (who i am tempted to call Superman for purposes of this entry) talked himself into a transfer to that city as well, and for one of the only times in our lengthy marriage, we were able to live in the same town we worked in. The house took about 90 days to build, and since it was one of four plans the builder did in the subdivision, and since we were on a special first time homeowner rate, there shouldn't have been any real issues.

But then they told us to go pick out light fixtures. and switches. and faucets for all the sinks. and carpet and tile and and and... we were overwhelmed. We just wanted it to work and had we never seen all the choices, we'd have been happy with whatever they'd have chosen. But it takes a stronger person than me to be able to look at the cool waterfall faucets and choose the standard model. Or see all the shiny white switchplate covers and pick the ivory ones with lines that capture dirt until they look outlined. We never built another house after that one, and even when we remodel, we are careful to tell our builders... some things you are just going to use your budget and best estimate on. We will not look at faucets. Or switchplates.

So when i looked at the lovely list of Flash Friday prompts, I get that old switchplate anxiety.

Here's where my mind went:

(Write a flash about a game played in the dark)

The handcuffs clicked into place, and i felt the soft velvet lining bracelet my wrist

(Write a flash about a day in the narrator's life.)

Stephen had come home early, and the wine hadn't quite breathed enough, though I did get the candles lit and the flowers clipped so they'd stay fresh. I made sure there was a lily in the vase, for it's scent. Though he'd told me once that he always thought of funeral homes when he smelled lilies.

(Write a flash about a newcomer who sees with fresh eyes something that a clique accepts as too ordinary to notice.)

The women in the neighborhood always avoided the lilies for that reason; I guess there'd been a lot of funerals lately. I wondered if there was a reason for all the death.

(Write a flash about a journey that begins well but ends badly.)

I'd started to look into it, connecting causes with the names of the men and women who'd died, and thought I saw a pattern. The victims always seemed to be happily married, and for some reason, without exception, the surviving spouse recovered... quickly.

(cobblestone, popped corks, ternfoils)

"Memorial" parties were thrown on cobblestone patios. Champagne corks popped and the ternfoils (whatever that is) glittered.

(pinky sugar, fields of oats, a tweed suit and a straw hat, strapless, slippery, ebb, blue moon, pool, dust )

It wasn't until Mr. Chesterfield, from next door, had passed that my imagination got a little carried away though. He'd left that morning wearing his good tweed suit and told me he was going to go out to the farm to inspect the field of oats he was growing. He was an old fashioned southern gentleman, and he wanted to keep horses, but only if he could be sure that he'd have a source of the best grain. Soon after he left, Mrs Chesterfield, who was younger than i was and always flirting with Stephen, came out in her straw hat and strapless bikini. She headed to their back yard pool with a wave to me, and a feeling of dread ebbed over me.

When Stephen came home a few minutes later,I should have worried. He dropped his briefcase and his trousers in the kitchen and grabbed a pair of trunks he kept in the laundry room. "Mrs Chesterfield called me and asked that i come over and check a slippery substance at her pool. She's really worried. I"ll be back as soon as i figure it out."

"But Mr. Chesterfield..."

"Is all the way out at the farm. I'm just going to see if i can help her out. It's the neighborly thing to do."

He didn't come back until the blue moon had risen in the sky and then he had white dust on his t shirt. It looked like the stuff some of the wild ones snuffed at parties, and I confronted him. He brushed at it. "Oh that? I held her drink for her while she took a call from her husband. It had stuff on the rim she called pinky sugar. That must be it."

(waterlogged, enameled, dial)

I flicked my enameled nail against his cheek. "it better be. You know strange things have been happening in this neighborhood."

They found Mr Chesterfield in the pool the next morning. I looked out from my upstairs window down into the back yard next door and couldn't believe it was him. He was so waterlogged that he reminded me of those environmental disaster shows where the wildlife dies horridly because of something in the water. It was then that i remembered that Stephen had gone over to help with the pool. Frantically I dialed his office number. I needed to let him know that something bad was going on. He wasn't available.

So I was a little surprised when he called later, and told me he wanted some alone time with me. That's always been our cue for sex, and it means he has more than just the usual in mind. I'm a good sport and am usually up to the challenge. I got the flowers, the candles and the wine and just hadn't decided if i should dress or not.

Then he came home early, and dangled the handcuffs. Now i'm latched to the bed post, and he's not answering my calls.

(dripping trees, grey morning, bare shoulders,morning star,tropical rain )

Outside, our typical afternoon thunderstorm has broken, and the tropical rain covers my cries. All I can see from under the blindfold he tied on to me is the sky, as grey as morning. The dripping trees keep time to the rhythm of my beating heart, and like a morning star, first visible in the light of dawn, I see her bare shoulders. I taste the bittersweet powder as she spreads it on my lips.

"I'll take good care of him, sugar." she whispers.

See what I mean? too many choices.

love,

rose

oh, a prompt. Take someone or some group you loathe and write a monologue from their viewpoint.