Flash Fiction...

So, Shannon Lawrence at The Warrior Muse posted some really great links with her IWSG post last week. One was to Flash Fiction Chronicles, which I hadn't heard of before. I got in on the last day of a contest they'd been running for a couple weeks. Thanks for posting the links, Sharon!! It's always fun hearing about contests/bloghops/giveaways I'm not aware of.

Since this is a writing blog and I rarely share any stories I've written, I figured I'd post what I wrote  for the challenge.  I was hoping some more experienced flash writers would tell me what they thought of this. Honest opinions! Please don't worry about hurting my feelings, I really would like the truth!! I was worried that it was a little cliche maybe? Or too heavy on sensationalism? What do you guys think?

Okay--so this was called the String-of-10 Five Prompt: We had to use at least four words out of the ten in our stories and, if we could, also integrate the prompt. The word-count could be no higher than 250.

PROMPT WORDS:

EVENING-QUARRY-ACCENT-ROSE-TEAR-MINUTE-GRAVE-CLOSE-ENTRANCE-BOW 

 I want to put a ding in the universe. –Steve Jobs 

Beautiful Stranger

The first time I saw him I was at the florist, buying daisies to leave on my mama's grave. He was buying roses. Our eyes met and his held something strange--like a warning. It left me shivering for a full minute after he left. 

I noticed him again at the hardware store, where I bought rope and he bought duck-tape. Then at the liquor store where I paid eighteen dollars for some Bud and he paid eighty dollars for some scotch. 

He seemed smooth. Polished. Sophisticated. The kind of guy who’d have women chasing him. I didn’t envy him. I didn’t want women chasing me. My mama had only been dead for five years. I was mourning. 

Still, he fascinated me. I seemed to see him everywhere. Whenever he caught me watching, he’d respond with a mocking smile that filled me with both longing and revulsion. I became so caught up in him that I barely noticed the murders tearing apart my town.

At least until they arrested me.

He was there my whole trial. At night, he’d come in my cell and whisper the details of his killings. When they found me guilty, he bragged about how he’d made me honor mama’s wishes. He’d forced me to leave my mark.

Slowly, the days passed. Slowly, I learned to close my eyes and become one with him. 

He’s no longer everything I’m not. Together, we’re charming. Cultured. Smart. Together, we planned our escape. We’re gonna make our mama proud.  

P.S.  Both pics were found through Google Images. Since the second is someone's artwork, I'm including the link to the page  HERE if anyone wants to check it out.