Deborah Woehr

When I wrote yesterday’s post, I honestly didn’t expect to see my book listed on Amazon before the month was up. Imagine my surprise when I found it up early this morning. There is no synopsis, and Amazon is listing it as temporarily unavailable. A year and a half ago, I had no problem uploading the synopsis for the anthology. But if you frequent Amazon as much as I do, you’ll know that they changed their interface again.

Even though I’m able to update the author information, date of publication, etc., they left out the synopsis section. So. I’ll have to look for a solution on Lulu forum to see how I can get around shelling out $25 for the Amazon Advantage program. I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, here’s the link. Thanks to all of you who gave me moral support and/or offered advice. I would still be revising the manuscript if it wasn’t for you.

I’ve been checking out the progress of Jason Evans’s Midnight Road contest, while reminding myself to submit a piece. The deadline is tomorrow at midnight (EST). So if you want to participate, you’d better hurry up.

That’s what I told myself yesterday afternoon. I reread the guidelines as well as some of the stories. Then I experienced a small bout of panic when I couldn’t come up with any ideas.

I stared at the picture on his blog and started writing words that I felt associated with the image. Ray Bradbury does this, and it’s a remarkably easy way to alleviate blocks. From there, the ideas began to flow and I wrote The Death Penalty.

This was the only story that I’ve managed to get published. The story is about a little girl whose imaginary friends become very real when she can no longer dodge her step-father’s fists. Imaginary Friends will be republished in John Evans’s Naked Tales Anthology, which is due to be published on May 21, 2007.

Theo scratched at his face. I knew what that meant. My place was in the sidelines while the men gloated over their victory. That was all right because I knew I had won mine.

I would be teaching in a brand new church that my lover had built. “Are we going to have a gala afterwards?” I asked, more out of curiosity and to change the subject.

“Yes.” Theo’s smile returned. “The pig is being slaughtered as we speak.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the church.”

Theo waved before he left. I raced upstairs to change and freshen my makeup, excited to see the church in it’s splendor and my man cutting the ribbon. As I stripped out of my soiled dress, I envisioned Theo on those steps with that fat, glutonous mayor. He was smiling at the crowd the entire time, a better politician than the mayor could ever hope to be.

A smile broke out on my lips before I had a chance to touch them up. We had worked so hard and been through so much together. God was rewarding us for our efforts. I may not be at Theo’s side during the ribbon-cutting ceremony, but I would be at the gala.

Everyone would be there, smiling at us and talking to us. I wouldn’t be so brash as to latch my arm around Theo’s, not with everyone still expecting his wife to come. Appearances were everything. That’s what Theo told me when he wouldn’t allow me into his house.

I accepted this, although I didn’t like it. All of this sneaking around had grown tiresome. Soon, it would become apparent to the townsfolk that Cora wasn’t going to come.

I left my room with this thought on my mind. It buoyed my spirits as I walked down the mahogany staircase and into the lobby. Randolph looked over his shoulder when he heard my heels clacking against the hardwood floor.

“You sure look nice,” he said with faint disapproval.

“Thank you,” I replied on my way out. Immediately, I saw the throng of people standing in front of the church, clapping and shouting. I saw the scissors in Theo’s raised hand and knew that they had started without me.

Tears sprung to my eyes, and it wasn’t because I’d missed out on a victory ceremony. A blond-haired woman stood by his side, where I should have been standing. She held a little girl in her arms, no older than five.

My insides felt like they had been shoved down my throat backwards. It hurt to breathe. Flashes of light lit up their faces in short bursts. I forced the muscles to relax on mine as I walked up to the crowd.

The mayor finished his speech. Then Theo gave his, expressing how blessed he felt that his family was able to share this important event with him. All I could think about was how that man had looked me in the eye, smiled at me, and told me bold-faced lies.

I smiled at Cora and her daughters. The girls smiled back.

“It’s good of you to join us, Miss Kelly,” Mayor O’Flannery shouted for the benefit of everyone. “Mrs. Sonnet, Miss Kelly is our teacher.”

Cora looked at me, her eyes as black as onyx stones. A slow smile came to her lips, those eyes filling with mistrust. “Hello.”

“I look forward to teaching your girls next Fall,” I said with a strong, clear voice. My smile grew wider as I looked at my lover, who refused to look directly at me.

“Myra, why don’t you join them up there.” James Nettleton wanted to snap a picture for his society page. He waited until I stood beside Cora.

The flash went off, filling my vision with stars.

You’ve underestimated me, you philandering bastard. I will crush her and spill her blood all over your pristine church steps. I promise you that.

The next flash blinded me.

I hate you.

This is my first piece of flash fiction. I wouldn’t call this horror, but this is what came out of me this morning.

His brown eyes locked onto me when he walked through the front door, so dark with despair. The harsh glow of the entryway light bleached his olive-toned skin. He was a wasted version of his former self.

My family was seated in a circle, dressed to the hilt as they opened Christmas gifts, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Didn’t they hear him come in?

He continued to hold my gaze, his mouth drawn down at the corners, like he wanted to cry but couldn’t. I wanted to jump up from that circle and run up to him, but I couldn’t. I wanted hug him and tell him that I loved him and ask him why he left us the way he did.

But all I could do was sit in that circle and stare at him with my unspoken and unanswered questions. He finally broke the eye contact and walked down the dark hallway that led to our childhood bedrooms.

Don’t leave! Please don’t leave!

I tried to get up and succeeded in maneuvering myself into a crouched position. That was as far as I got. Something held me in place, and invisible force that I wasn’t quite tangible.

He was gone. The dark hallway taunted me, so final and unforgiving. It had swallowed my little brother whole.

I looked at the faces of my grandmother, parents and surviving siblings. Then I looked at my own family. That invisible force still held me in place as they continued opening gifts and chattering at each other.

They knew and had chosen not to see, as always. My soul felt blistered and raw. There was no escape, not for me.