Saturday, June 27, 2015

In a Red Dress and Alone

In this week's Flash Fiction Challenge, The Random Song Title Jamboree, a random song title from my music collection is the title for the story (although not necessarily the basis.  Please do enjoy:


In a Red Dress and Alone


   She stood there, listening to the conversations around her.  Alexis sipped her cocktail slowly, feeling more and more awkward by the moment.
   This was a new town, a new environment altogether.  A far cry from her hometown.  She had been given a huge opportunity with her first job after college, and didn't think twice about leaving behind everyone and everything she had ever known.
   She was excited at first when a coworker at her new job, Sophie, had invited her to her birthday party.  She had hoped Sophie would introduce her to some people at the party to help her get acquainted.  But once Alexis had arrived, Sophie was in her own little world, surrounded by her adoring fans.
   Being the life of the party seemed to be more of a priority for Sophie than making her guests feel at home, and Alexis couldn't be mad at her for that, could she?  After all, it was her birthday.  Alexis occupied her own little corner of the room while Sophie chatted and laughed with her circle of friends.
   Sophie seemed so perfect, with her full, pouty lips, her perky, firm breasts, and her hair that never lost its bounce.  She was one of those effortlessly amazing girls who never had to worry about getting zits on her perfect skin, or about knowing what to do in any social situation.  If there was a manual somewhere on how to handle social encounters of every kind, she had probably written all the current revisions.
   Everyone was so drawn to her, and not just at this party.  At work, she was always being praised for her accomplishments.  Upper management would flock to her desk, falling over themselves to compliment her latest project.  Alexis, who sat just a few cubicles over, would listen in as they waxed eloquent about how amazing Sophia was.
   And while Alexis always considered herself to be above petty jealousy, it was impossible not to feel just a twinge of it as Little Miss Perfect was being lauded as the Most Awesome Person of the Year by practically everyone around.
   And her birthday party was no different.  Alexis felt like she wasn't even good enough to be in this woman's shadow.  The moment she walked in the door of Sophie's apartment, which looked like it was decorated by Martha Stewart, herself, she felt inadequate.  Smiling faces emanated with forced politeness, but Alexis could tell everyone was wondering who she was.  Hell, these days, she wondered that very same thing, herself.
   And why did she decide to wear this red dress?  She had very little opportunity to wear it in other facets of her life, being neither appropriate attire for work, nor for grocery shopping.  It had a vintage style to it, with a square neckline that minimized her proportionate bust line, and a skirt that flared out and stopped right above her knees.  It looked so cute on the hanger, and nothing else in her closet seemed like the kind of thing to wear to this party.  And her shoes -- black patent heels that pinched her toes together and made her back hurt -- just looked all wrong.
   This was the first party Alexis had been invited to since she had graduated college.  It was probably safe to assume that there would not be jello shots or beer pong here.
   After seeing what all the other partygoers were wearing, the dress made her feel like a little girl.  Everyone else wore either black or blue, or conservative neutrals.  Most of the other girls had jeans on, and the ones who did wear a skirt or a dress wore something much more sophisticated and elegant than what Alexis had selected.  And the birthday girl, herself, wore a dress that made her look like a mythical water nymph -- with delicate fabric in a muted cornflower blue, softly flowing down her graceful silhouette and ending mid calf in an asymmetrical handkerchief hem.  Her short, graceful curls framed her beautiful, perpetually smiling face.  The more Alexis looked at her, the more inadequate she felt.
   The awkwardness was excruciating.  She concentrated very hard on her drink.  It wasn't exactly fascinating, but it was infinitely better than looking around the room and risking eye contact with strangers.  Alexis hated situations like this.  There were about a million things she would rather be doing.  In fact, if she weren't at this party, she would have been at home, cuddling with her yorkie, and reading.  It was a mistake coming here.
   She decided she would wait about five minutes more, speak briefly to Sophie, and get back home to her comfortable pajamas and a glass of wine.  Wading through the sea of strangers, she finally made her way to the birthday girl.
   "Hey, Sophie, I just wanted to tell you happy birthday.  I'm about to head out."
   "OK, I'll see you at work on Monday."
   Sophie barely acknowledged her, before going back to her circle of admirers.  They all whispered and giggled together as Alexis stepped out.
   She breathed a sigh of relief as she sat in the driver's seat of her car and closed her door.  She was going back to her fortress of solitude, to bask in the glow of a new book.
   Back at the party, a very shy and very awkward young man sighed as he stared into his beer.  He could barely contain his disappointment.  He didn't know anyone there, and he was just about to muster the courage to speak to the pretty girl in the red dress.  But before he even got the chance, she quickly made her exit.

Friday, June 12, 2015

Some Things, Once Smelled, Can Never Be Unsmelled

I haven't done very many Flash Fiction Challenges lately because I'm doing JuNoWriMo, and writing a fabulous Texas-themed zombie novel.  I decided to take a break to do this week's challenge, The Dead Body, which involves a dead body in the very first paragraph.  So, without further ado, here's my morbid tale.


Some Things, Once Smelled, Can Never Be Unsmelled

   A barely putrescent corpse, yellow and grey and crawling with maggots, lay on the cold cement of an abandoned basement.  Its inanimate body seemed at home here, having already been given over to the darkness.  Cockroaches, flies, and spiders had taken over, the only signs of life in an otherwise lifeless place.  
   Cobwebs stretched from the ceiling to the rotting, abandoned furniture that had long been reduced to rusted, moldy pieces of cushion and wood that, along with the decaying human body, served as a collective buffet for the creatures that lived here.
   The smell that overwhelmed the room and seeped into every porous bit of material was a powerful mix of copper, rot, and a hint of sweetness that could inspire nausea in the strongest of stomachs.   
   A real estate agent named Carla gagged upon entering this room, her indulgent lunch from Panera Bread preparing to make an encore presentation to the world.  The creamy, golden yellow soup of broccoli and cheese made a grand exit in the most explosive projectile manner, mixed with pieces of lightly toasted (now soggy) ciabatta bread, thin-sliced lean roast beef, and a wonderfully nutty artesian Swiss cheese.
   Carla doubled over, her throat and nostrils burning intensely from the stomach acid that came up.  She grabbed the rail and tried to take the next step down.  Her Louis Vuitton heel hit a part of the step made slippery by the putrid sludge that had just erupted from her mouth.  
   As she lost her footing and grabbed on to the rail, it ripped away from the wall.  She fell backwards, and in trying to catch herself, sprained her right wrist as she tumbled to the floor.
   She looked up, her Nordstrom St. John Collection royal blue shift dress torn and covered in vomit and a thick layer of dust -- this room had about thirty layers of it on any given surface.  She tried to stand up, and her left ankle collapsed underneath her as she screamed in pain.  She looked down to see her ankle, swollen and misshapen, and a deep shade of purple.  
   Carla closed her eyes and tried not to panic.  She took deep breaths and calmed her mind.  She looked around for her cellphone.
   It must have fallen off of me when I fell down the stairs, she thought.  She forced herself to stand up, using the bookcase behind her to keep her balance.  This bookcase was not bolted to the wall, and quickly came crashing down on her.  A cockroach that was crawling across the top shelf fell onto her face, then quickly scurried off.
   She screamed, and shook her head in a panic.  Once the bug was gone, she closed her eyes and shuddered, disgusted.  She kept her eyes shut and took deep breaths to remain calm.  She envisioned a beach with white sands on a sunny day, matching the rhythm of her breath to the imaginary tide that rolled in and out.  
   Last week, this house seemed like such a good deal.  She bought it at auction for a fraction of what she planned to sell it for.  Including the basement, there were three stories of space ready to be remodeled.  She had yet to have it inspected; she just wanted to look around and see what she was dealing with.
   Carla tried to push the bookcase off of herself, but it was too heavy.  She forgot that she had sprained her wrist, until she tried to use it and it hurt like hell.  She groaned with pain.
   She blinked back tears as she looked around the room, and finally located her cell phone.  It was just a few feet out of reach.  As she tried to stretch, to pull herself out from under the bookcase, she saw what was just beyond it, and what was the source of the awful smell that caused her to lose her lunch in the first place.
   The cell phone was next to the hand of a dead body that was buzzing with flies.  Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed to be mocking her, with its hollow eyes and a smug smile that stretched across its dead face.  
   She couldn't reach the cell phone, but if that corpse could just come back to life, it could call someone for help.  She was almost desperate enough to ask it.
   No, that's nonsense, she thought.  Keep yourself together, girl!  There has to be a way out of this!
   If she couldn't get help, then who would find her?  No one knew she was here.  On a whim, she had stopped by to check out her new flip house after her afternoon appointment had cancelled.
   She wondered how long it would take for anyone to find her body.  If she didn't make it out of here alive, the office would simply assume she quit, and replace her.
   She was single; the only one who would notice her absence at home was Melisandra, her Maine Coon.  She hoped her landlord would come by to check in on her, and rescue the cat before she starved to death.
   Carla closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.  Suddenly, she could feel a huge spider crawling up her leg.  Unable to move, she started to panic.
   Vain attempts to get herself out from under the bookcase only resulted in more pain.  And the only ones who could hear her screams were the creatures that would soon feast on her flesh.
   A new dawn, a new day.  The sun was bright and shining, illuminating a beautiful beach, covered with white sand that was gracefully kissed by clear blue water.  But none of that mirthful sun made it into the dark, damp basement, where a skeleton sat within reach of a cell phone.  It stared with unblinking eyes at a barely putrescent corpse trapped underneath a bookcase, yellow and grey and crawling with maggots.