Flashing . . . Strangers (Week 10)

Hello Flashy-flashers!

Welcome to Week 10! Our judge this week is

TGBMcCray

and here’s what she has to say:

 

About me: TGBMcCray
@TGBMcCray on twitter. tgbmccray.wordpress.com
A lifelong writer and editor, I’ve finally gotten serious about writing for me and not just for work. I’m a mama, a career woman, and an iced tea addict. I am a lover of Ben, shoes, wine, Papa, and Salinger. Find me fangirling or writing OF about flawed people you probably know.
She gave me a choice of two different picture prompts, but I want to offer them both to you. Make sure to keep your flash between 100-200 words, use both the Picture AND the Word prompt, and leave your word count with your twitter handle/website in the comments.
kubrick

Stranger.  Noun: a (1) :  foreigner (2) :  a resident alien b :  one in the house of another as a guest, visitor, or intruder c :  a person or thing that is unknown or with whom one is unacquainted d :  one who does not belong to or is kept from the activities of a group e :  one not privy or party to an act, contract, or title :  one that interferes without right Adjective: a archaic :  of, relating to, or characteristic of another country :  foreign b :  not native to or naturally belonging in a place :  of external origin, kind, or character 2 a :  not before known, heard, or seen :  unfamiliar b :  exciting wonder or awe :  extraordinary 3 a :  discouraging familiarities :  reserved, distant b :  ill at ease 4 :  unaccustomed 2 <she was strange to his ways

Stranger.
Noun:
a (1) : foreigner (2) : a resident alien
b : one in the house of another as a guest, visitor, or intruder
c : a person or thing that is unknown or with whom one is unacquainted
d : one who does not belong to or is kept from the activities of a group
e : one not privy or party to an act, contract, or title : one that interferes without right
Adjective:
a archaic : of, relating to, or characteristic of another country : foreign
b : not native to or naturally belonging in a place : of external origin, kind, or character
2
a : not before known, heard, or seen : unfamiliar
b : exciting wonder or awe : extraordinary
3
a : discouraging familiarities : reserved, distant
b : ill at ease
4
: unaccustomed 2

 

You have until Saturday night at 11:59 PM (MST) to get your flash in. Good luck!

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6 thoughts on “Flashing . . . Strangers (Week 10)

  1. She shimmies her way up the bus steps. White sequins swish against one another as her hips sway.

    The only seat open is next to a sleeping couple.

    If only someone would—could hold her like that.

    Something else holds her much too close to let anyone else in; it shelters her in it’s bosom.

    Silver flecks of reflection dance off her long-sleeved, low-backed mini dress, bouncing off the couple’s peaceful expressions.

    Light caramel and ebony arms entwine—short, kinky hair rests against straight, black side-swept bangs. The woman has her back to the man. Her long, dark legs stretch across the span of a few seats.

    Her own porcelain fingers reach out to touch the skin at the ankle of the peaceful dreamer. Warmth protrudes through her cold body.

    The bus lurches to a halt, causing closed eyes to pop open and watch as the stranger’s hand retreats. Brown depths of the woman’s eyes search the blackness of the stranger’s.

    The stranger startles and quickly rises to her feet. The dreamer watches as the stranger departs into the inky night.

    Platform shoes meet cracked pavement. She sniffs and scans her surroundings to find solace in her addiction’s cold, waiting arms.

    Words: 199

    Twitter: rumnernikkiee

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  2. She gave me eyes with a fire that scorched my soul.

    She gave me words that swirled like the blood in my veins.

    She gave me life, while taking my breath away.

    She gave me everything… except more time.

    22 hours ago, I laid eyes on her, this peculiar girl… and my whole world went ablaze with desire. I had one day and I just had to know her.

    “Wha’do they call you, sweet girl?” I inched closer, forcing the air to leave us.

    “Stranger,” she whispered so soft, a secret I’m sure.

    I chuckled at the blush that burned at her throat, creeping up her neck.

    “Yeah? Well we’ll see about that…”

    We’re here now… on this train, her body curled beneath mine. My arms surround her like thick fog enveloping a desert town.

    I am a landmine, and she has triggered me. I fear, the moment I let her go, will be the moment I detonate.

    She shivers when I tuck my head safely into her neck, nuzzling with tickling breaths. I wrap her up tighter as I fight to convince myself that I don’t have to let her go.

    That I actually can without destroying myself.

    Words: 199
    Twitter: @_LittleLovely_

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  3. Stranger.
    Noun:c : a person or thing that is unknown or with whom one is unacquainted

    She never leaves the train at stops choosing to eat from a wrinkled brown bag and use the repulsive facilities in the last car. She tenses at each stop, slumping down and nervously watching out the window. She’s mysterious and rumpled and obviously on the lamb.

    When two police officers board the train with a bulletin in hand, I know I need to help her. I move to her seat and catching her eyes, I wrap a blanket and my arm around her turning her fragile body to hide her face in my lapel.
    Grabbing my coat in her tiny fist she whispers, “Thank you.”

    I keep me seat next to her bringing her food and drink from the whistle stops. We talk about the pain she’s running from and the hope I’m returning to and I know I want her to come home to meet my mother. I want to spend all my days with her. I want to raise our children in the sunshine. Because, as we fall asleep wrapped in each other rocked by the gentle sway of the train, I know I’ve found my home in this beautiful stranger.

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  4. @jdifrans
    109 words
    Her back pressed into his chest as she held her eyes closed. His arms wrapped over hers in reassurance . He leaned his head down into her neck to watch over her. Their bodies entwined, not from desire of the flesh but rather need of the soul. The weary couple seemed to have nothing left but each other, and they weren’t letting go.

    It felt wrong to watch them, their pose so intimate. Not a stranger on the subway that day could look at them and not feel jealous – did not ache to feel so adored. They left with only the hope that one day they could be so loved.

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  5. And another…
    @jdifrans
    111 words
    I was taught love was duty and sacrifice – greed and lust.
    It was getting Mom to rehab and keeping Dad out of jail.
    It was nothing more than a Saturday night out drinking followed by quick fuck in the back seat.
    It was everything I longed to escape from.

    Love was a stranger.

    He has shown me love is protection and comfort – support and trust.
    It‘s his arms around me oh so tight on the ride home so I can rest my weary eyes.
    It’s a hand to hold that says I’m not alone.
    It’s changed my life and made me whole.
    It’s given me a home and hope for tomorrow.

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  6. left hand ever in his right, Aldous guides me onto the bus and to a seat.

    air conditioned cool metal and plastic aren’t unexpected, but they’re a shock on my July-hot limbs. i jump a little, and he drapes his left arm around me as we sit. grateful, i squeeze his hand, and rest my head over where his heart beats. he reaches forward, his grasp familiar, welcome and wanted as he brings my legs up, showing me i have room to stretch and relax on the long ride back.

    while the wheels underneath us go ’round and ’round, the person i’ve come to trust more than anyone else, holds me with easy confidence.

    i lean with it and into him.

    this is our fourth morning spent uptown, illustrating the waking of the world to each other with the tips of our fingers, translating birdsongs and city sounds with parted lips, lifted hips and kisses made all the warmer with rising sunrays sinking into bare skin.

    in a world i’ve never seen and Aldous hasn’t heard in two years, we’re strangers to everyone around us.

    but not each other.

    his touch is my light, and mine is his favorite sound.

    words: 200
    twitter: @LittleGreyAche

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