“Good China” – Flash Fiction

 

 

     He latched onto my nipple.

     The way newborn sons latch onto nipples-only distant.  And the scenario takes me

back to a place of pubescent butterflies and crimson donuts sprinkled in Christmas glitter gold. 

     I sigh, and run my fingers through his hair-short, refined, tousled.  The gold of the calico blond strands shimmer beneath the sunlight probing into our little secret affair.

     From amidst his suckling, he glances up at me, my reflection stares back.  I look down at my white dress.  The eyelets on my dress are like the windows of my soul, missing threads.

     I sweep an anxious eye across the nightstand.  Divorce papers unsigned, yet lay perfectly folded beside a pen tempting me to sign the mistake you’ve made. 

     My mind drifts back to that hot August afternoon.  A sticky note posted to you from me on our front door:  Dear John, Your girlfriend called.  I forgot to buy Kleenex at the store.  You moved out, and he was to move in, your best friend who didn’t know you had moved out prior to him knocking on what used to be “our” front door, on a late September morning. 

     He leaves me a sticky note on my front door:  X O, X O, empty boxes.

     I am guilty to say we now share in this room, no longer sacred or abide by or united in our matrimony.  Not even my nipple knows no boundaries as my tears slip through the sand of decaying bones; your mother’s ring.  It no longer resides on my left hand. 

     My nipple grows raw, not with sensation, but with sentiment.

     Because the open range echoes the sound of death’s love aging gracefully near.  I thank you for the memories of when my heart was broken next to my good China.

 

 

Update on “ROMEO”

 

 

Well “ROMEO” (my YA paranormal modern-day Romeo + Juliet love story) hasn’t exactly been knocking Agents off their feet despite the fact I’ve been trying to sell them on the idea that ROMEO is a fresh and one-of-a-kind story as well as uniquely written as ROMEO reads in the same fashion as William Shakespeare’s play, Romeo + Juliet.

 

Now I’ve pondered on why I haven’t exactly received invitations from Lit Agents to submit further material on ROMEO, and I haven’t came up with much answers.  Perhaps Agents consider ROMEO to be a knock-off. . .maybe so, but you can’t discount novels like I,DRAKULA or CINDER or RED RIDING HOOD, re-written classics with a unique spin to them.  Or perhaps it is what one potential Agent quoted when I pitched her LAST BITE! my last YA novel, and why she couldn’t take it on even though she was ecstatic on the idea-editor vampire fatigue.  Or perhaps it’s the timing, the economy; maybe word count plays a factor or maybe the market is too flooded with YA paranormals, or maybe, and perhaps my last conclusion, a weak query?  Now while all those may play a factor, in my opinion, and what I’ve read considerably, the YA genre, regardless of sub-genre, and is as of this moment the biggest seller when it comes to books.  So yeah, in that sense, the market is there, the Agents are there, I just think (and I as I stated before) it’s the “timing”.  I would like to assume, or speculate, that Agents have their good days and their bad days when it comes to reviewing queries or submissions which play a major role when it comes to deciding on whether to request material on a query or reject the query entirely despite the fact that it could very well be a best-seller.  I will admit though that It brings me great comfort in knowing that what I’ve just IMO’d above may harbor some truth.

 

So in the meantime I’ve decided to self-publish ROMEO.  And if it sells pretty well, then maybe I can re-pitch it to Agents and perpahs gain representation, with fingers crossed, of course!

 

A Mexican Stand-Off – flash fiction

 

 

The boss.  The drug lord.  The drug dealer.  The dope runner.  The drug pusher.  The bagman.  The hit-man.  The assassin.  The fuck up.  The innocent bystander.  The lover.  The mistress.  The wife.  The children.  Guns drawn.  A really big shoot out.  Everyone dies.  Silence.  Blood is flowing.  Flies buzz around.  The bullet riddled piñata donkey hangs by a swinging limb.  Candy is scattered everywhere.  The Federales bullshit about the massacre and help themselves to cake and ice cream.