fiction friday 50: roses are blue. (#1 revisited)

fiction friday.Before the fiction… a special message. From me. (Who the hell else would it be from?)

Number 50

On 27 November 2015, I posted fiction friday number 1. It’s been 56 weeks… today is the 57th Friday but the 50th post. So I missed 7. I’m kind of amazed! In the beginning, I didn’t truly believe this would last. I didn’t truly believe anyone would read or care or enjoy what I was posting. I know — that’s me… positive as ever!

The piece below was originally intended to be just a scene. I had no plans to continue the story. It wasn’t meant to begin a series (even though I had already written a draft the of whole story). But when readers wanted more, I didn’t want to disappoint. And that’s part of why this story is a bit disjointed. I hadn’t fixed the timeline jumps yet… but I was in the middle of posting so I had to wing it, editing as I went along. In my own document off-blog, I have since fixed this… kind of. (But I’m sure I’ll revisit it 50 more times…)

I thought today was the right Friday to repost this one. You may never want to read more than this single post, but if you do, the story is here, in 13 posts. If you go up there ^ to the menu and hover over fiction, you’ll see roses are blue… click that. Or just click this

If you’re bored over the holidays or you just need to escape the lunatic ravings of Aunt Dumbass or the slurred stories of Uncle Drunky, maybe you’ll want something to read. So in those difficult times, think of me.

Happy Holidays… whichever you celebrate… or don’t celebrate… or whatever.

Happy Whatever.

Please know that I would send you positive thoughts and good vibes if I had any. You guys are the best and I’d have gone mad (or more mad) this past year without you. Maybe next year, I’ll be less Grinchy. But I doubt it. It’s just who I am.

fiction friday.

Who the hell was that guy? Leaving… with her… touching her…?

I’m losing her. I can’t… God, I can’t lose her. I can’t breathe. I should follow them. No. I can’t do that. I have to let her go. For now.

It was cold outside, but he didn’t notice. He could only feel the miserable heaviness in his heart. She’s been with me my entire life. It’s always been us. Always. She’s my best friend. I miss her. How can I watch her with anyone else? She is… mine… isn’t she? I thought she was mine. She knows I love her. She has to know. God, what if she doesn’t know?

I have to go to her. Right now. I have to tell her I fell in love. I have to explain exactly what is happening. I thought she already knew. Oh God, I miss her so much. He gripped his jacket over his heart and took deep breaths, hoping to calm himself. But it wasn’t working. Nothing was helping. He paced the streets in agony. I want her. I need to be with her. I don’t know how to watch her with someone else. I wanted to grab that guy and throw him across the room. Don’t touch her! His heart raced and his hands trembled. He was in pain. I have to get the image of that guy touching her out of my head. It’s going to kill me.

He didn’t know where he was. Every street, every block – they all began to look the same. Seeing her that way broke him. I have never had anyone else like her in my life. And I don’t want anyone else. I only want her. She’s everything to me. She always has been… and now that we’ve gotten the closest we’ve ever been, it’s ending? It can’t. I am scared to death I’m losing her. No. Not possible. Right? Not after everything… and after… that night… Oh God. This cannot be happening. I cannot let this happen.

He gasped, inhaled a long deep breath, and stopped walking. Where the hell am I? Oh my God. He slowly pulled his phone from his pocket while staring up at the windows of her building.

blue hearts.

©2015-2016 what sandra thinks

About what sandra thinks

Sandra is a writer, blogger, poet, artist, emotional disaster. She thinks far too much and sleeps far too little. Sandra lives in the Northeastern U.S. but dreams of an oceanfront home in Italy, but she would settle for a non-oceanfront home in Italy, too. She loves books, brutal honesty, coffee, and the color black. She hates insincerity, beer, whipped cream, and facebook. And she is uncomfortable talking about herself in the third person.
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13 Responses to fiction friday 50: roses are blue. (#1 revisited)

  1. Kay says:

    Well, I’m hooked, lol.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Miriam says:

    This is awesome Sandra. So much emotion and longing here, love it.
    Happy holidays you talented woman, it’s been great getting to know you this year, sharing woes and all. 😏 Bring on 2017 and a new direction for both of us …

    Liked by 1 person

  3. mywords331 says:

    This is amazing!
    It is really difficult to find your love with someone else.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. magarisa says:

    This is so intense…I almost felt my own heart being squeezed as I was reading. Happy Whatever to you too, Sandra. ♥

    Liked by 1 person

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