Exercises
“A Sudden Change of Mood”
She’d always wanted a white wedding and Todd only wanted to make her happy. After all the hectic planning she felt serene as she glided down the isle of the small old church. Everything was perfect, even better than she imagined.
The ceremony continued in a heavenly blur seen through her white veil. The obligatory question was asked and she stole a look at Todd. He was smiling, safe in the knowledge that there would be no reason why they could not be together.
The preacher hardly paused in his flow, but a guttural clearing of the throat stopped him short. A sea of faces looked around them but the speaker was not immediately apparent. Those who were looking back over their shoulders missed the darkening behind the altar, but soon all heads were turned towards the shadowy presence enveloping the happy couple.
by Michele deBes
I found myself being pulled down to the beach, her warm hand in mine, her laughter in my ears making my blood boil and the drinks I’d had double in effect. I noticed she was already barefoot. I still had my expensive Italian shoes on. The sounds of the party receded into the distance and it was just her, and me, the sand and the sea.
She dropped my hand and kept running towards the inky black waves, defined by sharp white lines of foam. As she ran she pulled off items of clothing, discarding them like petals pulled in a “she loves me, she loves me not” game. I ran after her, pulling off my shirt. At the water’s edge she tugged her jeans past her slim hips. Thigh deep in the waves she stopped and turned around. My eyes travelled slowly down her slender naked body — past her smiling face, her tiny breasts, over her flat stomach, down to her erect penis.
Oh Christ, I thought.
by Peter Gifford
“In Black”
Cynthia was happy when Harold finally passed away. She inherited everything: the estate, the timber factories, the small overseas investments. She regarded herself in front of the hall mirror. Her mourning attire, which she must wear for at least three months, was thankfully without the bustles and frills that were currently fashionable. The black, which made most look washed out and old, simply enhanced her excellent porcelain complexion. Cynthia was happy.
She planted a white rose bush above his grave, and tended it daily. This stopped the servant’s tongues wagging. But even as she watered the plant, her thoughts turned to Alphonse.
She knew they must wait three months before they could talk, but there was nothing to prevent her mind from fantasizing about their future together. A thorn scratched her thumb, and she sucked the blood from the cut. Nothing indeed.
The next morning the wound had festered, and she called upon her doctor. He declared it to be a nasty infection and prescribed a poultice and rest. But despite his ministrations the wound continued to grow and fester.
One morning she woke, and to her astonishment, a small shoot emerged from the wound. In her amazement she broke it off. But the next day it was back, and bigger still. Ashamed, afraid, she told no-one, and covered it with a heavy bandage. But each day the plant seemed bigger, until after one week had passed, a small white flower with a single sharp thorn grew from her hand.