A Piece of Fiction – The Start of Something...

I wrote the this piece of fiction for WAG#22 (Writing Adventure Group). The challenge was to observe a stranger you'd think would make a good main character, and describe their physical features accurately so they come over as real individuals and not cardboard cut-outs.

The Start of Something...

Laura slowly opened and closed her fists and relaxed deeper into the crimson bathwater. She dreamily watched the blood ooze from her right wrist and swim like smoke into the water. She wondered how things had ended up like this.

Ten hours earlier everything was very different.

Her hair was short and her face thin. She recoiled back from the mirror and turned away in disgust. She hated her hair. Black and curly. She looked like an elf. Pointed ears, matching nose and no chin. At least she didn't have to worry about her figure. She looked athletic, which is the polite version of skinny. If anything she could do with a few more curves. But as she went to the gym four times a week and hardly ate, that was unlikely. And then there was the London marathon that she did last week.

She applied a slight coat of very pale lipstick and the silver earrings that were shaped like French beans. She'd chosen them because they showed off her thin face and highlighted her striking scarf. Black with thousands of silver sequins made it look like an alligator skin. The whole effect went well with her short black leather jacket and indigo skinny jeans. She stepped into her black ankle boots, the ones with the macho straps over the insteps, and stood back to admire herself.

Yes. Now she was ready for whatever the world threw at her.

Flash Fiction piece about a woman's revenge

Sweet Revenge

She struck him three times and took a step back. Stunned he looked down at the blood weeping from his chest and stomach. The squelch when she removed the knife had shocked them both and a second or two later he slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

She dropped the knife and it bounced on the stone floor with a clink and a clunk. She looked down at him in disgust and placed her right foot on his chest. The sole of her red shoe slid in his blood and she pushed her stiletto heel deep into his wound. His mouth opened, a gurgling noise rose from deep in his throat and his head lopped to one side. He was gone.

She grinned and whispered, 'My turn you bastard.'

It hadn't always been like that. Once she had doted on him and had become bewitched by his charm. But that was a couple of years ago and it had turned to hate after six months. She vowed never to trust a man ever again. If only he hadn't seduced her mother.