Writing prompt

So, some of you have maybe noticed that I like to do these writing prompts, or flash fiction, at times. Usually when I don’t have enough time to actually write on my WIPs, but having the urge to write something, just to prove to myself that I still can.

Here’s what the prompt to use the words “Soap, yellow, frenzy” in piece of writing got out of me:

Crap! I hissed between my teeth as the paint bucket tipped for the third time off the ladder I was balancing on while painting the ceiling in the kitchen.  I descended in a frenzy and lifted the bucket up to assess the damage. Well, it could’ve been worse. The first time the bucket tipped off the ladder it had made a huge mess, so I didn’t keep that much paint in the bucket anymore.

Of course, I could’ve left this whole painting thing to Jake, my longtime boyfriend, but since he has not picked up on my not so subtle hints of the kitchen needing a new coat of paint, so I decided that if I want it done, sooner rather than never, I’d better do it myself.

I moved the ladder a bit closer to the window and then climbed the steps until I could reach the ceiling. I painted with long strokes and smiled, the difference between the old and the new was as clear as day. The old yellow stained ceiling was now pearl white, nearly shining.

Once I was done, I washed my paintbrush and took the paint bucket out to the garage. Then there was just the not so small task of removing all the newspapers that I had lined the floor with and carrying the table and chairs back into the kitchen.

When the kitchen was done, I was beat. Totally happy with what I had accomplished, but exhausted. I locked myself in the bathroom and took a long hot shower. I scrubbed my hands with soap, the paint stains staying put annoyingly well.

I twisted my hair into a towel that I turned onto my head, and wrapped myself in the fluffy pink bathrobe that Jake gave me for my birthday. The mirror on the wall was steamy, and I smiled as I saw the I heart U Jake had drawn on it during his morning shower. For a big, bearded biker, he was really a hopeless romantic at times.

“Babe?” I heard Jake’s voice.

“I’m in the bathroom,” I hollered and unlocked the door.

“Do you want to go out to eat?” Jake asked as he walked up to me and kissed me gently.

“Sure, why not.” I answered and wrapped my arms around his waist. I hugged him tight and looked him in the eyes.

“What?” Jake met my gaze and smiled, even though confusion could be read on his face.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too, babe. Why don’t you go get yourself dressed? I’ll go get a coke while I wait.”  Jake disappeared into the kitchen and I held my breath waiting for his reaction to the refreshed kitchen. A minute later Jake came out of the kitchen sipping his coke and I was still standing glued to the spot I stood in when he left.

“What are you waiting for? I’m starving. Go get some clothes on or I’ll take you to town in that bathrobe.”

I picked out and put on clothes in a speed than would have put Wonder Woman to shame. My still damp hair I pulled into a messy bun. I slipped on a pair of loafers and painted my lips red before I headed out to the black Chevy waiting in the driveway.

“Babe? Why are there paint buckets in the garage?” Jake asked as he shut the garage door and locked it.

“I did some painting today.” I answered him sweetly.

“Really? What did you paint?”

“The kitchen ceiling.”

Jake frowned and said. “Really? Alone? You should have left it to me, I would’ve painted it for you.”

I sigh. Men. 


Picture from Pixabay.

A lemony writing prompt

Okay, so I wasn’t going for smut, but just a random writing prompt to get me out of my writing funk. But random is what random does. So, the prompt I got was this “It will be Friday, the day of perversion.”

Here’s what I wrote (somewhat unedited, since it was too late at night).

It will be Friday, the day of perversion.

The girls were the last ones to leave the office, so they locked up, and set the alarm knowing no one would be back before Monday morning.

“Any plans for tonight?” Sadie asked Kathryn who was getting her bike helmet on.

“Huge plans. Laundry, take out and Netflix.” Kathryn replied with a wink and snapped shut the lock beneath her chin.

“I’m so jealous. Not!” Sadie grinned.

“What do you have planned?”

“Oh, nothing much.” Sadie bit the inside of her cheek not to smile widely. “Ben is taking me out.”

“Somewhere fancy?”

“I’m not sure, he didn’t tell me where we’re going yet.”

Kathryn got onto her bike and placed her foot on the pedal. “Well, enjoy your mystery date.”

“I will. Hey, do you want to tag along if we go to a club? Ben could ask Jake to come too.”

“No thanks, I don’t want to intrude. Besides I’ve been waiting for ages for the last season of White Collar.”

“Call me if you change your mind, okay?”

“I will, and I won’t. See you on Monday!”
Kathryn took off with only a quick glance at the traffic before slinking in between two cars waiting for the traffic-light to go green.

A few minutes later a black Jaguar stopped by the curb. The back door was opened by the driver who got back behind the wheel as soon as she had entered the vehicle. Sadie could barely contain her excitement as she got into the car.

To her surprise the backseat wasn’t empty, but there were Ben and Jake, both in black slacks and grey shirts, the upper buttons undone.

“Hi.” Sadie said, a blush creeping up her cheeks as the men assessed her every curve. She didn’t mind it when Ben looked at her like this, but now Jake too was blatantly staring at her in front of Ben. It made her uncomfortable, and not entirely in the bad way. The men were both worthy of a modelling deal, Ben with his black hair and dangerously dark eyes, muscular body that would’ve made Adonis pale and Jake a sandy blond, blue-eyed hunk of beef.

“How was your day?” Ben asked and kissed her on the cheek, his voice a low rumble that caressed her skin.

“Same old, same old. Yours?” She replied trying not to let her sudden nerves be to evident in her voice.

“We had a long day,” Ben answered her. He leaned in to kiss her, his hand trailing up her thigh, the flimsy summer skirt sliding up beneath his touch. His lips hot against hers, made the fact that they weren’t alone in the car vanish from her thoughts. She parted her lips, and shifted in her seat. His fingers brushed the satin between her thighs and she sucked in a sharp breath, heat spreading over her body and concentrating where his fingertips touched her.

“It was a long day indeed, but I’m sure it was worth it.” Jake added, breaking Sadie’s illusion of Ben and her being alone in the car. She snapped her thighs together and tried to pry Ben’s hand away, but he refused.

“Forget him, for now,” Ben whispered, his voice deceivingly soft although it was a direct order. She knew not to talk back, not when he used that tone. Her body complied quicker than her mind did. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, no, he knew exactly how to play her body. It was a fine tuned instrument in the hands of a skillful musician. She had her safe-word that would make him stop if it ever became too much for her, but she had never needed it. But they had never had an audience either.

He kissed her again, her breath hitching as he pushed the satin covering her to the side and circled her sensitive nub with his fingers, and she did exactly what he had asked her to do, and forgot all about Jake being in the car with them.

He thrust gently into her, his fingers moving with ease, covered in her wetness. His tongue teased her, their mouths merged together. She tasted whiskey on his tongue, and figured that he had probably drank some after work. Her breath hitched as he thrust another finger into her, his thumb playing with her clit, whilst wrecking havoc on her sense of decency.

Ben got up for air, and Sadie opened her eyes, blushing crimson at the sight of Jake looking at her, his trousers doing a bad job of hiding the major hard on he was sporting. The fact that he kept on stroking himself through the fabric didn’t help either.

Ben realized what she was looking at, and his eyes gleamed with erotic promise. He pulled his fingers out from her, and took them to her lips. She kissed them, tasting herself on his skin, and then he put his fingers in his own mouth, sucking off the residue of her arousal. It was a move that never failed to shock her, no matter how many times she had seen him do it.

“Change places with me.” He ordered her, and she complied, a wave of excitement with a twist of apprehension, made her skin break out in goosebumps.

She opened her seat-belt and clumsily lifted herself off her seat, she shifted to the left, with Ben’s strong hands guiding her by her waist. He sat her in his lap, his erection poking against her derriere as he kissed her shoulder.

“Or maybe I should make you come like this.” He murmured as he bit her neck and slid his hand back in between her legs. She closed her eyes, as her being placed on his lap in the middle of the car made her hyper aware of how exposed she really was.

To her surprise and humiliation, the thought of being on display, made her even more aroused. Ben noticed it too and chuckled, his muscles rippling against her back. “I never pegged you for an exhibitionist, Sadie. Come on, baby, give us a show.”

He peppered kisses on her neck, nipping and sucking all the spots that seemed to be connected straight to her core.

He pushed her legs apart, spreading her further on display. With one hand inside her panties, and the other one grabbing her breast and tugging on her nipple ring, he stroked her into a frenzy.

She felt a hand on her thigh, and then it moved up. At first she didn’t think more of it, but when she felt a hot breath on her cleavage, her heart leaped up her throat and she stiffened. Warily she opened her eyes and saw Jake’s sandy blond hair in front of her face. He nipped on her skin and it was complete sensory overload.

Ben’s fingers inside her, his hand on her breast, his lips on her neck were alone enough to push her towards the edge of oblivion. The added surge of hormones zinging through her by Jake’s touch and the oddness of the situation sling shot her far into the abyss of sexual bliss, her body shook and throbbed as she moaned through her release. Sweat glistened on her skin, and both men kissed her, Ben on the back of her neck, and Jake on her front.

She slumped against Ben’s chest, her body utterly spent and exhausted. He shifted her off his lap so that she finally was seated I’m between the two men. He smiled as he met her eyes, his expression an odd mixture of shy and cocky at the same time.

“Thanks for the show, baby.” Ben kissed her lips.

She didn’t reply, because if she did, she would have had to face the reality of what just happened. And she really didn’t want to disrupt the post orgasmic bliss with thinking about the fact that Jake had been fondling her while Ben had been fucking her with his fingers.

“Take us home.” Ben tapped on the window between the backseat and the front of the car. “We will continue in a more private setting,” he then told her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they all would be taking that one step further tonight.

“Yes, Jake is coming too.” Ben answered her unasked question.

“Hell yes”, Jake added with a grin and a few strokes over his bulging trousers.

Just a one shot…

A writing prompt on FWAR lead to this:

Caught

”No! Don’t touch her,” the young man screamed and then cried out in agony as a heavy fist made contact with his jaw. He tasted copper on his tongue, and spat blood onto the deck. He hung his head and opened his eyes just enough to see the new red stain joining the others on the wet wood. The strong hands gripping his tied arms were the only thing still keeping him standing.

“You forget your place, boy,” the captain spat at him. The girl cried silently as the captain held her still. She was a pitiful sight with her hair glued to her face, her soaking wet dress stuck to her figure and her tears blending with the rain running down her cheeks.

“And you.” The captain turned the girl’s face towards him. “You know what is expected of you. Lord Bytes will be here bright and early, and he expects his fiancée to be waiting. Pure and pretty.” He growled the last words and shook his head in disdain. “But no. You could not obey the Lord’s wishes… You are a slut, just like your mother.” The girl’s shoulders shook with fought back sobs.

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” the young man intervened, but was only rewarded with a swift kick to the stomach by one of the captain’s thugs holding him still.

The captain took a few quick steps, and grabbed the young man by his hair and twisted his face up against the pelting rain. “Get it into your thick head, boy. You don’t tell me what to do.” The captain said, grinding out the words between his teeth, and then he nodded at the thug holding the young man standing.

The girl whimpered as she watched her lover be dragged across the deck and then unceremoniously thrown into the raging sea.

“No!” She cried and rushed to the railing, but the unforgiving waves showed no sign of the young man.

The captain stood beside her and watched her despair.

“Enough.” He ordered. “Get inside, and clean yourself up for Lord Bytes. And you better pray that he will still make you his wife.” The captain’s eyes were black as a coal as he stared her down. But she did not cower, nor did she turn her gaze away as defiance flared within her.

“I will not.” The girl said and looked up at the captain. “Lord Bytes may come as he pleases, but he will never have me as his wife.”

She grabbed the hem of her drenched skirt, and stepped to the edge, not hesitating for a second. “Because I will follow my heart.”

With those words, she plunged herself into the darkness.

Wordless (or Writing Prompt) Wednesday

Cool late summer air brushes against my face as I walk the sandy road. I take a deep breath and smell the salty air blowing from the sea. The dry leaves crackle beneath my sandals, reminding me that ever so soon, the luscious greens will become an array of orange, yellow and red. I pick a lone flower from the roadside and smile. Grandma will like it for sure. The shadows grow longer the further down the road I get. By the time I reach Grandma’s cabin, it’s basking in the evening sun. Birds are singing, sharing our joy in the last rays of sun before the darkness wins the fight.

Quoth The Wordsmith

Take part in this exercise if you choose, or simply take a few moments to enjoy a pretty picture, the choice is yours.

If you’d like to participate, share how this picture makes you feel, what stories might take place in it, or even just list a few adjectives that it inspires in you to practice some descriptive writing.

This Wednesday, I’d like to share some personal nostalgia with you instead of a description. This picture takes me back to visiting my grandparent’s house as a child. Their farmhouse boasts about 150 years and was built by my great-grandfather’s very own hands. It can only be reached by driving down a long avenue of towering old trees. Trees that have seen horses change into cars and children change into bones. Those trees made the world seem like a fairy tale when I was small, as they dappled my skin in…

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Another day, another prompt

So again, as usual, I took part in the Flash Fiction prompt on FWAR. This time the prompt was to go to Fortune Cookie Quotes – and then pick one fortune for inspiration. I picked the one that said You learn from your mistakes… You will learn a lot today. Because that just had so much potential. But squeezing all the ideas rampaging through my head into less than 600 words was the hard part – I managed, just barely.

My only goal was to keep it light this time, since most of my prompts lately have been sad or tragic.


Lessons Learned

The evening sun is sinking towards the horizon, making the shadows of the trees in the park seem like they go on forever. Laura waits for the bus, a cardboard box filled with her stuff from the office beside her on the bench, observing the hustle of the city that passes her by.

She shakes her head, as she looks the note that was hidden inside her fortune cookie. “Well, no shit, Sherlock.” She says to no-one in particular as she reads it again. You learn from your mistakes… You will learn a lot today.

Everything started from one tiny error, one press of the wrong button. A message from the office manager, a very close friend of Laura’s, came, and she couldn’t resist replying to it with a funny, although very inappropriate picture that she had found on Google. She snickered at her little joke, as the email was sent. Only when the replies started pouring in, did she find out that something had gone wrong.

A big lump lodged itself in her throat as she realized that she had pressed reply to all, and sent the picture of the very much naked guy to everyone in the company. That meant all 250 employees, including the management.

Cold sweat broke, as she looked at the name blinking on her phone. This can’t be good, she thought as she picked up the phone. And good it wasn’t. The order was to be in the boss’ office by four PM.

She continued working, trying to ignore the various replies arriving to her email. With a quick glance it seemed that many took it with humor. The single ladies saw nothing wrong with it. The guy from IT, commented something – and basically outed himself to her at the same time. The up-tight lady from the development department stormed into Laura’s office and – lectured her on office etiquette and manners. Throw in a few disgruntled customers, and her day was officially dandy.

By four, Laura gathered her courage as she climbed the stairs to Mr. Bosman’s office. She knocked on the hardwood door and heard his rumbling voice telling her to come in.

She pushed the door open and for a moment she was confused. The room was dark, the curtains drawn and the only light came from a set of candles flickering on the desk.

“Mr. Bosman?” She asked, and jumped as the door clicked shut behind her.

“Laura, Laura, Laura…” his voice came from somewhere in the dark. She didn’t reply, as all words had deserted her by the door. “So I got that email you sent.” He continued. “That was quite the image you had there…”

Laura rolled her eyes and prayed for this strange interaction to be over soon. She heard him tut tutting behind her.

“Turn around Ms. Feigle. I’m talking to you.” His sound came from much closer now. “Besides, I think you need a real man, not one of those metrosexuals.”

Laura turned around and dropped her jaw. There he stood, in all his glory, his stocky five foot three body bare naked. She fought herself not to glance at his family jewels hanging beneath the hair covered barrel that was his belly.

“What the…?” Was as far she got, before she totally lost it. She laughed so hard she almost peed her pants.

Needless to say, Mr. Bosman didn’t take her reaction that well, and he would’ve probably fired her – if she hadn’t already quit on the spot.

Many lessons learned, she thought, as she carried her box onto the bus.

Challenging myself – 20 minutes

So the prompt has to be written in 20 minutes. Here we go.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Dog Named Bob.”

Sara squinted as the rays of the morning sun found their way to her eyes from in between the leaves of the birch by the pergola. She placed her cup of coffee on the worn wooden table, and went back inside to get herself a plate full of waffles covered with syrup.

Her dog Bob sneaked out and followed her through the garden. He circled her, his tail wagging, flapping against the railing. A blue-jay hopped over the dew covered grass and Bob took off chasing it. The blue-jay flew away, and Bob was left standing by the fence, his newly gained freedom now limited to the yard. The poor city-dog bewildered by the life in the country. Bob wagged his tail harder when he saw Mike, the inked mailman coming to bring the day’s mail. Sara walked across the grass and patted Bob on the head.

“Morning Sara,” Mike said as he saw her. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it.”

And done.

Writing prompts

At last, I have the possibility to write again. Or at least try to write again. Not quite daring to get back to my stories yet, a writing prompt is exactly what the doctor ordered. Right? Good thing I’m on that FWAR site, in the Flashers group, so I didn’t have to go searching for a prompt.

Stock photo by gxtas (Deviant Art)

This was the picture of the prompt and here is what it inspired me to write:

On hold

The wood creaked beneath her feet, as she walked through the room. The old house was so quiet now, almost as if it was holding its breath, waiting for life to fill it again. She trailed her fingers over the crocheted tablecloth, the shriveled petals scattered around the lone vase in the middle of the surface. She willed the flower to regain its colors, its glory. It didn’t. The place was etched with memories, the stories that filled the place now hidden beneath a layer of dust.

Hesitating for a moment she stopped by the open fireplace, wrapped her cardigan a bit tighter, in a vain attempt to fight the chill engulfing her. She placed a few logs there; tore a page from a newspaper dated a year ago. The matches were in the corner, in the same place where they’d always been. She shook the box, just to hear them rattle, just like grandpa had always done. The memory made her smile. Flames soon devoured the last year’s news, and then began gnawing away on the dry logs. The heat did little to help the coldness within her.

She sat there, staring at the flames, listening to the fire crackle and let the memories wash over her. The good. The bad. The beautiful. The ugly. Emotions ebbed and flowed until it became too much to take. It was a bad idea coming here alone. She should’ve waited for the rest of the family.

Fuck it, she thought and stood up, strode over to grandpa’s cabinet and took out the bottle of old faithful Jack. Not bothering to get a cup she drank straight from the bottle. The whiskey burned its way down her throat, but failed in taking the edge off her anxiety.

She grabbed the bottle and walked over to the armchair grandpa always used to sit in. She sat there, in his chair, drinking his liquor, feeling like an intruder. An intruder in the house she had spent all her summers growing up in. An intruder in the house she had now inherited. An intruder in a place she hated, almost as much as she loved it.

Sighing, she pulled herself together. Enough wallowing, she told herself. He’s in a better place now, no matter how much it hurts to admit it. She closed the cap and placed the bottle on the floor.

She opened the curtains, bringing much needed light to the abandoned cabin. Dust swirled in the air as the house sighed; life had finally returned.


I really don’t know why I’m going with so sad story-lines for these prompts. Maybe next time I have to try to write a comedy.

A limit reached

I stumbled onto the Daily Post blog and found a writing prompt by the name Fearful symmetry

Because picking a letter felt like an impossible task, I used a random letter generator that I found online, and ended up with the letter A.


A limit reached

All she wanted was a moment for herself, a moment of peace and quiet when no one asked her for anything, no one called out her name nor used her as a jungle gym. After all, in another time, in another life, she would’ve been appalled by the state of her home, the never ending Lego construction site in the middle of the living room, the highway of cars racing across the couch. Although, she didn’t want to be annoyed by the mess or the noise, she couldn’t help it. Anew, she stepped over the minefield spread out on the floor, to collect the clothes left lying all over the place.

Argh,” she mewled as a piece of the Danish designed torture devices lodged itself into her heel.

Aidan, Adam and Andrew,” she yelled and counted to ten, trying not to lose her temper.

Alas, the counting did not calm her nerves. All three boys, rumbled down the stairs, sweeping through the room like a tornado. A shove here, an insult there, the brothers paid no notice to their mother standing in the middle of the room seething. Adam, the middle child, was the first to sense their mother’s mood and he shushed down his brothers.

Are you alright, mom,” he asked, his green eyes filled with worry, looking up at her.

Am I alright,” she retorted raising her voice. “Again, none of you have picked up these darn things,” she yelled throwing a handful of Lego around the room.

A silence fell, as the boys watched their mother’s last nerve break. An avalanche of words spewed forward accompanied by tears streaming down her cheeks.

Astounded, the boys stood in the middle of the messy living room and listened to her. At last, the flood of words narrowed down to a mere trickle, and when she finally stopped, the boys started cleaning up the mess they’d made. A deep breath, and she felt the weight on her shoulders release. A minute or two passed, before she joined her sons in picking up the toys from the floor. After even the last Lego was cleared from the floor, she hugged her boys. Apologies were mumbled, and a few I love you-s too.

Apparently a breakdown was needed for the air to be cleaned, and although the peace – and the tidy living room – lasted only for about thirty minutes, Aidan, Adam and Andrew understood, that their mother is only human too.

Writing prompts and flash fics

Long time no see my friend! So, I joined the Free Writers and Readers site just in time for a flash fiction challenge. The prompt was this picture and here is what it inspired me to write.

Getting closure

Worn down sneakers thud against the wet road at an even pace, the monotonous rhythm broken only by the occasional splashes when her feet land in a puddle. Her breath comes out as a fog; her hair, glued to her face by the drizzle. She knows, that she should be freezing by now, but she’s too numb to feel it. She’s too numb to care.

She crosses the creek slithering its way through the valley and the tightness around her chest becomes unbearable. She stops, and leaning against her knees she takes a moment to catch her breath. Come on Beth, you can do it. Do it for Nick, she urges herself. She swallows a sob and forces herself to continue. The closer she gets to the place where they found him, the harder it is to fight back the tears burning in her eyes.

Finally, she sees the stone by the side of the road, and a chill fills her heart. It was here. She slows down, and then stops. With her arms wrapped tightly around her body, she just stands there looking at the spot where she saw him for the last time.

She hasn’t been here since. The place looks different than before, the trees have grown, and a new pavement has been laid. Gone is the blood, gone are the traces of the tragedy that happened, gone are the remains of the love of her life. When she closes her eyes, she can still see him laying there, his beautiful blond hair splayed out against the dark ground, his eyes wide open looking into the skies as he took his last breath. The dam, that she’s been fighting to keep together, bursts and she falls to the ground sobbing. A year has gone by, but the pain still crushes her, crumbling down the fragile walls she has built to protect her heart.

“Why, Nick?” She cries into the dark night. “Why did you have to leave me?”

She sits on her heels, and turns her face up towards the clouds, the tears on her cheeks now mixing with the rain pouring down. “Why did you have to take him away from me?” She closes her eyes and prays for an answer she knows that she will not get.

The rain fades, and a ray of light sneaks its way past the clouds, bringing light to the stone laid down in his memory by the side of the road. In silence she looks at the sight in front of her and gradually warmth wins over the painful chill in her heart. She walks over and brushes off a few wet leaves clinging to the surface. A sudden gust of wind dries off the last teardrops from her cheeks. “I know you are there looking over me, Nick,” she says with a wistful smile. “I’ll never forget you either.”

————–

So, what do you think? Let me know 🙂

Writing prompt #2 – A surprise package

I got some more answers to my writing prompt question. So here is writing prompt mini story number two.


 

Thank fuck it’s Friday, I think as I open the door to my apartment after the week of hell at work. Tax season is a bitch… I remember my dad complaining about it when I was a kid, but I didn’t get what he was so grumpy about. Well, I do now. I barely crash onto the living room couch, before I hear the telltale patter of paws against the tiles.

“Come here Benny” I say even I don’t have to, he’s already pushing me with his nose, his tail wagging wildly from side to side. “I know I’m late,” I tell him, as he calms down and sits, tilting his head looking at me with questioning eyes. “I had a horrible day.” I scratch him behind his ear. “What do you say, we go for a long walk?” Immediately he perks up, goes to the door, grabs his collar off the bench and brings it to me, his tail still wagging up a storm.

“Ok, ok… Gimme a minute.” I sigh and leave him waiting for me while I change into a jogging outfit, along with my well worn running shoes.

The 5k trail around the park, does wonders for my mood and for Benny too.

When we get home, there’s a package waiting by my door. Huh, that’s strange, I don’t remember ordering anything, I think as I bend to pick it up. No address, no postage. Even stranger. I glance around but don’t see anyone.

“Lily,” I read the name written on the package out loud. My first instinct is that the package has been delivered to the wrong place, but then I remember that one summer… That one boy… He called me Lily. I sigh and close my eyes; I can still see that look in his smoky blue eyes, as he reached out for me, sitting on his Harley, bad boy written all over him.

I carry the box inside, and lay it onto the coffee table. Benny just ignores my excitement, he heads for the water bowl before disappearing into the bedroom for a nap.

I rip the box open, and lift out the round, hard, red and white object. I turn it in my hands, it’s an open face helmet. A tingle goes through my spine, warming me from within. It has been years since I last rode. The last time was with him, that summer so many years ago. I always loved the thrill, the vibration of the powerful engine between my legs, my arms around his waist, my chin pressed against his back, as we sped down the road, ignoring the warnings and objections of our parents.

I put the helmet on, and feel all kinds of silly as I look at my image in the mirror. I look into the box for anything more, and my heart jumps to my throat as I see the handwritten note at the bottom of the box. Lily, I’ll pick you up at eight, let’s go cruising down memory lane. Rick.