I recently followed a group on Twitter called “The Flash Fiction Hive.” Last week, the Hive challenged its members to write a flash fiction piece based on a song. I chose Craig David and Sting’s Rise and Fall. (If you haven’t heard of it before, I recommend you look it up on YouTube.
Anyway, I was excited because it was the first story I had written in a while. And the first time in a while that I posted a story on my blog. I hope you enjoy it.
Gordon stopped at the door. He hung his head, banging on the cream door. His friends warned him, but Gordon knew this was what he wanted. Jennifer, his girlfriend, wrote songs that complemented his deep voice. And everyone loved him. This was the first step in his path to stardom. It was supposed to be the beginning of a better life for him and Jennifer.
But he dreaded entering his apartment. He knew what was waiting for him. But he stood straight, ran his hand across his bald head, and cleared his throat. Gordon turned the brass handle and entered. And sure enough, Jennifer stood waiting for him. If not for the intense stare from her golden eyes, the glow of her bronzed frame in the moonlight would hide a woman scorned and ashamed. Gordon closed the door and walked up to Jennifer. He flashed a smile and a bouquet of daisies and lavender. Jennifer just stood, not caring about anything he was going to say.
“Hey, Jen. How’s my—”
Jennifer slapped him before he could finish.
“How dare you,” Jennifer barked. He gave a look of shock. Her words reeked of a vileness he hadn’t experienced before. Jennifer flashed a picture of him with some fans. She singled out a female draped around him.
“You promised me,” she sneered. “You lied to me. Did you think—? What the hell were you thinking?”
She plastered the photo onto Gordon’s chest and turned away from him. He picked it up from the floor.
“Come on, baby. You know this doesn’t mean anything. So we had some fans come on stage. Big deal.”
“No, Gordon,” Jennifer replied in a raised, sharp tone, “it is a big deal. We talked about this. You said this wouldn’t happen again.”
He remembered the last time a female fan showed her appreciation. Jennifer caught them making out in his Camaro. She stormed out, tears bursting out of her eyes. Gordon caught up with her, pleaded with her to take him back. She agreed under the condition that there wouldn’t be any more girls.
“It’s not like the last time,” Gordon said. He lay the bouquet on the couch.
“Save it,” she said. “I’ve heard it all before. And I ignored it for a long time. I can’t deal with this anymore. We’re through.”
Jennifer turned her back from him. She felt her eyes swell with sadness and anger.
“Come on, Jen. You don’t mean that.”
Gordon caressed her shoulders, but she shrugged him off. He approached her again and twirled her around. He desired to see the sparkle in her eyes.
“I promise you, nothing happened. Nothing. I wish you were there with me, so that I could celebrate with you. You, babe. I promise you, there’s no one else.”
Gordon wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his lips onto her forehead. She looked up at him. The moonlight hid the redness of her eyes.
Gordon kissed her lips. “Promise.”
Jennifer tasted the sincerity and returned the favor. They kissed long and hard. He lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom, leaving the bouquet behind.