Note: I’ve felt a pull toward Thom G’s flash fiction lately. This piece got the juices flowing. I had to try it. This piece pushed me over the edge. They look like tidy cuts of cake but for me it was anything but. It took me half a month to come even remotely close. I love the concept and want to do more. Call this Attempt #1.
“The Writer,” by Cathleen Rehfeld, available as of May 7, 2008 for purchase at Art on the Boulevard Gallery in Vancouver, WA 360-750-4499
She stood in front of her side of the closet in her underwear and a skin-tight, see-through top. Her eyes were glassy, blank, staring at the skirts, now blurred into one cloud of fuzzy color. She felt panic awakening and tightening around her throat at the thought of loving him so much she needed him like air. Blissful unity usurped creativity the day they got married a year ago and she’d not been able to write a thing since. Something had to give. She snatched at the skirts in the closet like salvation and put on the shortest, tightest one she could find. She felt herself gravitate toward her dresser and rummage through the top drawer. Her fingers became tangled in fishnets and she ripped them as she fought to escape. She put them on anyway, breathlessly. She watched herself lean down and slip her fingers through the straps of a pair of red stilettos. And as she put them on, she saw herself walking ahead of the roaring flames of a scandal that would burn any possibility of a bridge back to him.
Fini
PHOTO CREDITS:
“The Writer,” original oil painting by Cathleen Rehfeld http://rehfeldart.blogspot.com/
Red stilettos from http://images.somalifestyle.com/somaimages/DSC_7366_lg.jp
Click here for more on prompt “#135 – Scandalous” from other Sunday Scribblings participants.
The Essence of a Thing 
Get back, Loooretta. This one burns. Favorites: “Blissful unity usurped creativity the day they got married a year ago and she’d not been able to write a thing since,” and of course, that steely finish.
This, too, is a painting. Torched onto the canvas.
That same line caught my attention and choked off the air from my lungs. Good thing your perfect ending came along and saved me.
I see Atlanta burning, and your sultry no- looking- back babe’s swagger fanning the flames. Oh my, the sacrifices we artists must make for our art! I get my inspiration for poetry feeding the chickens and watching the leaves fall, but at least I’ve been happily married FOR THE PAST 140 YEARS !!
Thanks for your comment. Can’t claim that I actually did all of those things (or even most of them). They seemed to fit the mood, though.
Who’s Thom G? I look up all your references, hoping it’s not too late to learn.
What, anno??? You never actually… Well, I guess we know who da bad grrl is now, eh? LOL! If I give it up so easily, so casually, I for sure wouldn’t last a nanosecond under a white-hot interrogation light with a coupla thugs blowing smoke in my face!
Just a quick response re: Thom G here… I did put links in the note under the title of this piece but this particular WordPress theme defaults linked words to an undistinguishable grey. I usually remember to bold links but forget I also need to give them some color. Here it is easy, like a missalister confession: Thom G, Surface Tension ;-)
there is no looking back for this woman, huh?
neat little one, this. i can’t stop being amazed by your creativity with words, missaslister.
paschal: thankya good sir. i like the painting bit… yeah… i guess this would be a little contemporary job with a congenial background slashed with the violent colors of cheap paint ; )
anno, back to your original comment, whew indeed! enduring the perfect union at the expense of career success is simply asking too much. it’s all or nothin’ baby ; )
hehe, Bass, i dig your Hotlanta image big time! about the 140 years, though, my condolences… good thing you got the leaves and the chickens ; )
yeah, dharmabum, this chick’s sense of worth’s in her work, in what she produces. if she doesn’t have that, she’s nothing. love alone can’t compare. so i guess after she’s done burning the bridge to the ground with the scandal she’s fixing to create, if she bothers with a relationship again, she’s going to have to find a guy that doesn’t hijack her mojo. LOL! hey, bum, thanks for stopping by with your words : )
You got to love a woman who puts her passion ahead of her happiness. I loved it.
She is certainly dressed for a scandal! Loved the flow of the story. BJ
Hey, chica, I may have liked the “blissful unity” derailed sentence, but it doesn’t mean I agree. Call me a right-brained, surrealist deborah kerr nutcase (thank you), but I think you can have both the mojO and the mojA. And that’s without your crumpled legs hiding under the blanket when Cary walks in.
Yes, I too have slipped on the red stillettos (it wasn’t a pretty sight, back when we all aspired to look like Rick James), and yes, steely dissociative pellucid dreaming has its place in front of all our mirrors and walk-in closets, but leaves and chickens can be awfully sexy too, in the right light. Just ask Principal Blandsworth.
This is great! I had to read it several times because it painted such an awesome picture. You wonder at her desperation that she would act scandalously rather than try to work through her writers block. Creativity is so important to her that she would give up the ‘air’ of her love. Fabulous!
I don’t know if it’s where I’m coming from. Being a writer, trying to (I mean professionally, just to avoid an admonishing from you). Struggling to figure out whether it’s social acceptance/approval or self approval that I’m looking for. But I felt for your story more than I felt for Thom G’s. He’s short, crisp and to the point. But I felt your tale. And I’m happy for the ‘writer’. That counts for a lot, no? Tough call. I need to make a similar decision. At the risk of possibly never amounting to much, in the world’s eyes; but ending up a king in my own eyes. Thanks for the motivation. : )
I love flash fiction and I love this :)
Gamol Gabere: LOL! Thank you :-) I’m glad you came back by.
Thank you, too, BJ! You said the magic word. Good flow is what I’m after, both to read and write :-)
Man, paschal, you be stackin’ your rippin’ two high! While I’m tellin’ you I got a knowin’ both the O and the A can be had, I’ll be tyrin’ to erase the stilettos sur la RJ head film that will not quit playing. Thankya very much, Elvis! I’m afraid I’m going to have to vote “No!” regarding Blandsworth and The Sexy Chickens playing at the Homecoming Dance this year, though. And if it gets brought up again I’ll have to call in Miss Swamp to restore order here ;-)
Welcome, Alisa! I’m so glad you checked this place out! I’m sorry you found our girl here so freaked out that she went directly to jail and did not pass go. And she thinks she’s the passionate one! Thanks for the Fabulous ;-)
Void: me admonish you, my man? oh no! For me, hitting the big time is a labyrinth of self worth and validation issues although I understand by now that hitting the big time means me creating a life I love, or as you put it, being a queen in my own eyes. Because conditioning is hard to ditch, though, I forget this every now and again…I was happy for the writer Sunday afternoon and it did count for a lot, like your happiness for her did. That you liked, felt, this little ditty counts for a lot. Go for king to you, dude ;-)
Hello Divine Ms. M! Glad to see you and that you liked this, used the love word even! Remember when we were “talking” about flash fiction entries for Glossolalia? That’s when the seed first got planted. When I tried it, it was way harder than it looked—I can write, right? then why can’t I write this right??? After imbibing Thom G’s stuff and getting tipsy enough on it, results began to hint at happening :-)
brevity’s wit — here’s it!!! ……… wannabe? – never! ….. gonnabe? – hardly think so! ……………… already there? – 0 don’t forget to dot the “i” in dottie, dahling!!!!! — loved this piece – daring and oh so solid!!! – 11.5 on a 1-10………………
Damn, chick: you got the Blandsworth reference?
It’s official: I am not worthy. Viola done kicked my ass.
I was wondering where you was at, danni! And here you come, full fire power, peppering the place with grace. All I hear is the crowd chanting Dot-tie! Dot-tie! And we humans believe what we wanna believe, so I believe. I’m takin’ your 11.5 and heading to the Algonquin!
Oh now paschal, you’re doin’ me like Miss Nelson. We both know who the sharpest shooter of shit is. When they was passing out brains you heard ‘em right :-)