Aha! Amy's scene-setting! Somehow, I've lost all ability to make these particular drabbles fictional; they seem to want to come out autobiographical, at least 95% of the time. See Teppy. See Teppy choose categories. See Teppy orchestrating the outlet for my midlife crisis. Memememe!
If you read FFoSM, any of you, and want to review at Amazon, whether you like the book or not? Please do so, and let me know, especially if you've either reviewed the first one or plan on reading and reviewing the third one next year and any future ones. That's the kind of post-publication feedback I treasure and use.
I know, but you called the topic. Last week I languished in outer darkness. this week, I drabble. And will continue to do so.
I know, but you called the topic.
I've bookmarked the posts where people suggest a topic, and I'm trying to work my way through them, more or less in the order that they were suggested.
Tep, you do realise that I'm not suggesting that there's anything deliberate about the orchestration? Or anything bad?
Hell, woman, it's a frickin' lifesaver. Or at least a sanity-saver, especially last month.
Tep, you do realise that I'm not suggesting that there's anything deliberate about the orchestration? Or anything bad?
Oh, Lord yes! I was trying to be teasing, but electrons are so very bad at conveying tone of voice sometimes.
I seem to be in fairy tale mode again.
Fateful Encounters, #2
In the twilight outside the rough cottage, the crone’s face was shadowed, crags and valleys offset by eyes that still gleamed with purpose.
“Hungry, my dear?” She held an apple, ripe and lush, in one gnarled hand.
I could taste its juice on my tongue already. I had walked farther than I intended, and I’d had no water since noon. What harm could come of sharing the old woman’s bounty, when she was kind enough to offer? Something dark in me shuddered to touch her, but I would not be discourteous.
“Thank you,” I said, and held out my hand.
---
Deb, the first one was from a fairy tale, too, but it might have been too oblique for anyone to get the reference.
Forgive me some abuse of the drabble concept. I wrote this for another form and I'm still debating my own meaningful encounters.
. I only notice dthe young man out of the corner of my eye. I’m ashamed to say after I got to know him, I replayed that scene a few times so I could get a better view, from the front and the back. But at the time, I’m speaking of, I thought he was the temp. “We’re just about finished,” I said. “Feel free to come in and get your lunch.”
We had our meetings in the break room, first out of necessity and later because I preferred it to the heavy imposing furniture in the conference room, even though the conference room had a print of “Water Lillies” hanging overhead.
“Dr. Allyson Miller?”
“Yeah, I’m Allyson Miller. But I’m not a doctor. Just a social worker. And, you are?” I tried to keep my inquiring shrink tone, but my detective side was giving him quite a stare, I was sure of it.
Suspect is mid-to-late thirties, male cauc, with big hazel eyes I’d like to get lost in for about six years. And it knows my name. My God. But me, a doctor, bite your tongue. Or better yet, bite mine, but only gently.
”Well, I heard this was a therapy group, so I assumed...”
“No, actually, we’re more about peer support here, but you could read that in the newsletter. What really brings you here?” For a second, I fantasized, imagining him saying “I’m here to be your love slave, Ms. Miller.” At which point, I’d say “Call me Allyson, please. But never Ally. I hate that.”
“It’s about my sister.”
“Call me Allyson, please.”
“What?” His eyebrows made an attractive curve of his confusion.
“Sorry. Long day. What?”
“My sister is...well, she uses a cane. You kind of remind me of her just a little.”
“We all look alike, right? Well, my friend Nick Rossi runs a family members’ group on Thursday evenings. You could try that. My group isn’t accepting new members right now. And we’ve only ever had a few men anyway. Don’t take this wrong but you guys tend to inhibit discussion.” Especially if the group leader starts to drool and stuff.
Smoothly played, Allyson, I told myself. Very feminist and professional. You don’t need to start thinking of his perfect mouth and all the places on you it would fit perfectly...what’s that about? You don’t get turned on this fast. Sure, you flirted with that bagel guy in grad school, but not when you first met, for God’s sake. This is high school shit, right here. And you were pretty stupid in high school. Remember? An excited young voice somewhere inside me said “Yeah!” and I tried to send it “shut up!” thoughtwaves.I could’ve just sort of rolled down the hallway and out of this guy’s life though, and I didn’t do that, either.
“I’m sorry,” I said, instead. “Have a seat....I don’t think, you know...brought my own.” And if my lame joke wasn’t bad enough, I cringed at the girly chuckle.
Jesus, gimp humor already. And it’s not even the second date. I must really want to jump this guy’s bones. But that just illustrates why my success rate’s gotten so low since I’ve stopped trying...chemically enhanced. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“No, it’s not the group I want. It’s you.” I swear it was completely physiological that my nipples decided to salute the flag at that precise moment, even under my Healing Professional get-up.
“I’m not following,” And for a moment my confusion did keep the pheromones at bay.
“I’ve just been to see Tommy Mallory. The P.I.? He says maybe you can help us out...that this job might require another...”
“Cripple.” The word sounded flat, ugly in a way it hadn’t in years.It was hard to believe I threw it around so much, thought it was funny or ironic. “You know, Tommy is like an uncle to me. If I find out you’re playing some game with me, I might ask him to blow your head off. Or something you might miss.”.
Heh. erika has already had my full take and commentary on this one, when firsty written.
BTW, as of five minutes ago:
Famous Flower of Serving Men: Amazon.com Sales Rank in Books: #13,579
Weaver and the factory Maid: Amazon.com Sales Rank in Books: #17,816
It won't last, of course, but for the moment?
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW!
