Tragic #short prose #flash fiction

“His story was tragic.

Yet he was too shallow to live his own tragedy, and too weak to escape it.

It occurred to me that he has woven a web of lies in which he lived like a curious spider lacking his own body.

Night and day crawling, spastic legs weaving lies, suffocating anybody who dared to approach him.  Empty, in the middle of his own cobweb, contorting his legs, existing somewhere between heaven and earth in a demotic world not created by God, but by a relapsed and dark demiurge.

Angelo, are you still listening to me?”

“Who dares not, Clara?”

excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers.
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image: conrado; Shutterstock; [link]

 

Crazy in love with you #short prose #flash fiction

Galleria dell’Accademia, Florence, July 28

“Clara, he needs a haircut.”
“Who?”
Miguel rolls his eyes.
“David.”
“For crying out loud, he is a statue.”
“So? I wonder where the closest barbershop is.”
“Miguel, are you crazy?”
“Yep. Crazy in love with you.”

Excerpt from the manuscript “Glass Lovers”

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image: Marc Little, Shutterstock; [link]

 

Agonizing Nights #short prose #flash fiction

A whole week.

Seven agonizing nights; seven suffocating nights rushing over me, parching my soul with their torrid breezes.
Myriads of mosquitoes murmuring in the dark, looking for prey: my own flesh, my own blood.
Nights extending their heavy tentacles over the city, strangling it as a venomous octopus; abandoning it at sunrise lacking vigor, emptied of hopes, filled with trash.

Glued to my heated body, lace and silk soaked in perspiration. I am looking out of the window. I can’t see you.

In this city clocks have no hands, years have no months, months have no days.  Outside of time, the city is innocent, perverse, philosophical, suicidal.

Shadows of your eyes; fragments of your voice hidden inside me. 

Dark.

Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers 

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The King of Love #short prose #flash fiction

“Clara,

The morning star, dethroned by you, cries like a dusty lyrical memory that nobody needs anymore. Your love’s blaze pushes millions of suns toward the margins of the universe. They look like yellow drops of wax trickling at the feet of saints before vanishing into a pile of sand.

Your touches cloak my skin with new zodiacal signs.  Your kisses imprint violet maps on my lips.

I am watching you. You are taming lions. You are awakening fairies. Stella Polaris is shining in your eyes.

I was a neophyte when it came to love. You made me the king of love.

Right hand on my heart, I promise you, Clara, that I will conquer the world for you and I will lay it at your feet.

So help me God.
… ”

Excerpt from the manuscript “Glass Lovers”
More from “Glass Lovers”

I am the wounded healer
Clara: The Power of Water
Self-sacrifice 

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Soul Bonds #Short Prose #Flash Fiction

Winter night tormented by hauling winds. I lie in bed. I can hear that beautiful raspy voice of his:

“I have seen so much in my life: indescribable humiliations, deep scars on burned faces, dreams crushed like broken glass on empty floors.

We desperately want to love, to possess each other, caught in a perpetual rush to justify our existence.

Yet there is no love that can fully satisfy us.  The passions of the flesh get exhausted in bed. What is left is exhausted by our imagination.

Physical love does not bind forever. Soul bonds do.”

Memories of a silky African violet nightgown modeling my body.

Ah, where are you? Where are you now?

 

excerpt from the manuscript “Glass Lovers”
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image: Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock, [link]

 

until the end of my life and beyond #short prose #flash fiction

“I, Miguel Julian Veracruz, take you to be my wife until the end of my life and beyond. I swear on the true cross of my ancestors who endured famine, who fought hurricanes, who sailed their ships through darkness and light into the vastness of the ocean, bible in one hand and sword in the other, to love you until the end of all worlds. My ancestors killed. May my love for you wash the blood from their hands. My ancestors burned down temples. May the fire of my love for you redeem them. May […]

Say yes, Clara, say yes, please!”

Miguel’s words cut the sky in two. The green of his eyes looked exactly like that of his Maria de Guadalupe medallion which he never took off. That beautiful silver Spanish ring, a family heirloom, worn by his mother on the fourth finger of her right hand, appeared on his palm out of nowhere.
*
Lightning struck the waters. A whirlpool of colors flamed the boat; the air was spinning around me like a tornado let lose over the face of the earth. My breathing stopped.  I thought I was imagining everything.
*
Jacques asked in that deep, unmistakable voice of his.

“Where were you Clara?”

“In Miguel’s boat on the waters of the Atlantic. In the beginning it looked like an ordinary Sunday afternoon. Miguel ordered the boat out.  I thought it was odd that he was not sailing it. He hired a captain whose wife cooked dinner, set the table, and brought a bunch of papers for us.  I did not know what they were.”

“What did you say, Clara?”

Excerpt from the manuscript “Glass Lovers” (draft)
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image: Sofi photo; Shutterstock; [link]

 

for you #short prose #flash fiction

Memories of a humid summer, dripping with love, when you finished your book.

In the night red wax trickles over a torn page that says, “for you- whose love fills my life with joy and makes all things possible.”

My arms ache.

I try to pull you back from a memory abyss filled with pain.

Can I still make all things possible?

The walls stay silent.

 

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