Friday Flash 500

So, here’s another sporadic feature I want to try to incorporate regularly – Flash Fiction. No, not SLASH fiction (though I suppose some of that may show up from time to time), but FLASH fiction. Basically little nuggets of writing, exactly 500 words long. It gives *you* (hopefully) something pretty to look at, and will help me (hopefully) prime the pump and work on my writer discipline (snort).

So, here’s Flash, the first:


Steven lay with his eyes closed tight. Maybe if he refused to open them, he wouldn’t have to wake up. He wouldn’t have to remember that this moment – the warmth of Tim’s body along his side, the hum of the fan, the languid buzz of physical satisfaction – was a lie.

The truth lived in a chic condo on the other side of Ann Arbor, wearing pumps and pearls, and serving red wine to her book club, cream carpet and pale peach upholstery be damned.

The *truth* was, Steven might-may-possibly be in love with the man sleeping contentedly next to him. The truth was that he most certainly *wanted* Tim, more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything in his life. But the truth, the final, undeniable facts were that while Tim was Steven’s truth, everything about Steven was a lie.

Moving achingly slowly, Steven edged out from under Tim’s limp arm and off the bed. Sherry’s book club would be breaking up by midnight, and she’d expect him home from “drinks with the guys” by twelve-thirty. He huffed a near silent, bitter laugh. Drinks with the guys. Right.

This… thing. This whatever-it-was he had with Tim, actually *had* started out as drinks with the guys. One of the younger, very junior associates at the firm had dared Steven and several of the more senior associates to try a local club – called Candyland, of all the stupid things – that catered to a goth, slightly edgy, younger crowd. Steven hadn’t been particularly interested in going, but he hadn’t been particularly interested in hanging out in his empty office, and Sherry had made it clear that he was not to interrupt her networking under any circumstances. So, he’d let himself be urged along to the club, volunteering to be the designated driver, though as he took in the leering mural in the entryway and the spinning disco ball, he thought drunk might be the only way to survive the place.

The music, a harsh industrial/techno/nails-on-a-chalkboard mash up, started a low grade pounding behind his eyes. It was loud. Duh. Of course it was loud. But at that moment it struck Steven as *too fucking loud.* The air was thick with cotton candy scented fog that drifted across the dance floor, thick enough that the couples, trios and singles writhing around in time to the alleged music seemed to float over it.

Paul, the junior associate who’d nagged him into coming, seemed to melt into the fog, while Logan, Steven’s peer and best friend at the law firm, forged a path toward the bar, parting the way with his sheer physical presence.

With Paul swallowed up by the crowd on the dance floor, and Logan breaking a path to the bar, Steven was free to let his eyes and mind wander.

And if his eyes and mind wandered to the pretty boys dancing a little too close and a shade too slow for the music, well there was no one to know except Steven.

So, there’s Friday Flash the First! I hope you enjoyed it!

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