The Gift That Keeps On Giving - Flash Story

JANUARY: To see in the New Year and to prevent her head turning and casting a roving eye, I bought her a heavy choke chain necklace


FEBRUARY: For the designated month of love, I splashed out on pearl drop earrings


MARCH: Easter came early this year as did my beneficence, since her egg was a Fabergé one


APRIL: Ducking inside from a particularly squally Spring shower, I found myself imprisoned in a jewellers and could only secure our freedom through the purchase of a gold (contra-) armband


MAY: For my faerie queen I bought her a filigreed wreath, albeit it more closely approximated a diadem. Actually it was a diadem


JUNE: Flaming June and another coruscation of light refracted off gem facets. This time a diamond encrusted watch. Yet still she was forever late, perhaps getting lost in gazing at the diamonds and losing track of time


JULY: To prepare for our Summer travels, she had to get her accessories in order for our evenings out. Several handbags were purchased in different materials while I silently implored there to be no crocodiles or snakes where we were heading for surely we would incense these animal gods by culling their progeny and then flouting the fact


AUGUST: I had anticipated an expensive Caribbean holiday to suffice for outlay this month, but she insisted on a memento of the trip and that meant some expensive pearls which may or may not have been locally sourced. Then there was the 'small' gift from the Duty Free, just to exploit the tax situation on offer, because it would be remiss not to.


SEPTEMBER: I was given a month off for good behaviour. However I was exhorted to make a sizeable donation to her pet charity for pets


OCTOBER: I didn't know she was Jewish, no matter how much she had strayed from that particular faith. They apparently have four different new years and this month saw not only one of them, but the most significant. Even though it was the month of atonement and expiation and a laying bare, so that on the High Holy day itself leather shoes are not permitted as man is not to raise himself above the beast. She purged all her footwear and after the ceremonies were over, we had to go out and restock her wardrobe for an entire array of soles


NOVEMBER: Arrogating as many holidays as humanly possible, we were also marked to honour Thanksgiving and more importantly the start of the headlong rush to shop. I had to show my gratitude with a generous purchase of a bracelet bedecked with precious stones. I was a tad charmless in the store I admit.


DECEMBER: And what did Santa bring her for Christmas? Why an eternity ring of course. A same- again for next year and all years thereafter cast iron platinum plated guarantee. And what did he bring for me? A pair of fur-lined handcuffs.

My Xmas Gift to You

Hi peeps and festive greetings to you all.

I'd really like to give presents to my loyal blog followers but I don't trust paypal, e-Bay or the Xmas post.

So instead I'm going to give gifts right here on the blog!

If you just tweet me or comment in the box below a story prompt, I'll write and post here your very own flash fiction, between 100 and 500 words. The prompt can be a picture, a title, a theme, 3 words that have to be worked into the story. You can suggest genre too if you're feeling really evil!

I'll try and get the story up as soon as possible in response, so it'll be good to tweet me that you've put in a request. On Twitter I'm @21stCscribe as if you didn't know who was gumming up your timeline already!

I'm going to throw this open from this Friday 21st December and keep it going until the 27th December.

Look forward to seeing what you throw at me!

Happy Crimbo

Marc x

Couldn't fir this one in the comment box for Elly. Her prompt was "Killing With Kindness"

She answered the front door.

"Someone just walk over your grave?"

"What the hell-? But - But, I threw a flower on your coffin this morning you bastard!"

"I know. It bounced off... Like a rubber cheque"

"Who on earth did we put in the soil then?"

"Search me, I wasn't there. You gonna invite me in?"

She turned and went back inside. He followed her into the lounge. He studied the peeling wallpaper and damp under the windows. She was stood at her hostess' trolley where sat bottles of spirits with no such signs of mildewed age. She mixed herself a tequila sunset, as her hand fumbled over the order. "Hair of the dog..."

"Drowning your sorrows... or toasting mine?"

"Look. I’m not even interested in how you faked your own funeral. Cos you sure as hell aren’t gonna be sympathetic to how I survived these past twenty years you've been banged up"

"Twenty-two"

She slumped down into the sagging nap of the armchair. Some liquid spilled over the rim of the glass and stained her dress. She didn't seem even to notice it. He strode over to her and bent down to inspect the stain. "I think that's beginning to burn a hole"

She raised her glass in mock toast. "You gonna buy me a new one then? With your ill-gotten gains?"

"Setting up my escape cost me every penny I had". He walked back over and parted the curtain with the flat of his hand and gazed out. He let the curtains flop back. He moved over to the mantlepiece and picked up a coloured glass figurine. He held it up to the light and revolved it around in its dim corona. The smoked glass was too opaque to admit the light through it. She coughed. He spun round to regard that she was trying to light a cigarette. Her hand was trembling. He grasped it with his and steadied the lighter to the tip of the cigarette. He flicked the lid back down releasing her hand. Her fingers went straight up to cradle her temple. He flicked away a loose tress perilously close to the cigarette tip. She took a drag and exhaled loudly.

"Some of your clobber is still upstairs if you need a change of clothes"

"Thanks"

"Look like you haven't put on a pound in all that time. Should still fit"

"Expect they'll be moth eaten by now"

"Only kept them so they'd have something to bury you in. I should have twigged when no one came calling". She dabbed at a leaf of tobacco on her tongue but couldn't locate it. He lobbed the figurine into the fireplace. The glass smashed leadenly against the grate.

"You can have a bath as well if you want to"

"You come and join me? I don't mean- Just come and chat"

She shook her head as she exhaled, jagging the smoke as if she was casting a smokescreen to efface herself. " She drained her glass and held it up and waggled it. "Couldn't mix me another one?"

He took the glass and mixed the ingredients. He bent down to study the sunrise taking shape. Its colours were dulled by the scratches in the glass. He handed it to her and returned to study the trolley. "Knock yourself out. When in Rome-ford and all that!" She giggled and lost herself further in the depression of her chair. She resurfaced to wipe a dribble of tequila from her chin. He pirouetted away from the trolley and walked over to the sofa. There was a magazine on the cushion. He lifted it up to inspect the title.

"'Style' magazine?" He cast his gaze around the careworn room.

"Whatever you do, you gotta do it with style. That’s what you always taught me"

"So I see"

"Yeah, well takes a bleedin’ budget to have style"

"Always got to be in there with the last word"

"Get to have the first one too when you’re living on your own"

"See? Doing it -"

"But -"

He placed a finger over her lips. Her top lip moved to enfold the tip of his finger. He tapped against her teeth for release. She complied. He went and sat down on the sofa. With difficulty she raised herself from her chair and almost fell back into its maw. She shuffled over to the trolley. She picked up one of the bottles and tipped it upside down. "Shit. We're out of syrup". A thick dribble of liquid finally ended its slow slither down the bottle's neck and plopped to the floor. She staggered back to her armchair and fell into it face first. She didn't respond to his queries whether she was okay or not. He rose from the sofa and flipped her round in her chair. Then he left the lounge and started rooting around in the drawers of the kitchen. When he'd located what he was after, he returned back the lounge, now reverberating to her thick snores. He pulled down her sweat pants. He yawned her panties down just to expose her thatch. He worked off her wedding ring and then carefully applied the glue's nozzle to coat the white gold in adhesive. Then he sunk to his haunches and precisely gaped her open with his fingers. "Still moist... still fermenting havoc after all these years". He inserted the ring. "This ought to have served as a chastity belt first time round"

He stood back upright and leaned over for a cushion from the sofa. The oblivion she was in, she wouldn't feel a thing. He would grant her that kindness at least.