Blind Man, Part II

The blind man and I met for the first time, face to face.

I was anxious to see this person who made me feel so alive in ways that no one else had.

His words moved me.

The gentleness in his voice stirred me.

His kind words endeared me to him.

When his fingers caressed my face,

I Believed

Someone once told me that my eyes were magical.
When I glanced into the mirror,
I saw the magic there.

He said my smile was sweet.
When I gazed at my reflection,
My lips looked full and soft
Like fresh, ripe strawberries,
Delicious enough to eat.

My teeth gleamed pearly white.
My hair sparkled with sunshine.
My cheeks blushed a radiant pink.
I was beautiful, he said,

Ben’s Choice

More Flash Fiction

My sister Regina is smart, pretty, and sexy; Me, I’m average.
When we were little, we shared many things – books and secrets . . . She’s had many admirers, boyfriends galore. Now we both love Ben. He’s tall and handsome with brown, gentle eyes that see inside my soul. I’ve felt the pressure of his lips. I love the feel of his strong embrace. Blindfolded, I can trace the structure of his face – the strong jaw; high cheekbones; cleft in his chin.
Tonight Ben must choose. It’s either Regina or me.
I turn on the swivel stool, smooth on scented lotions. I brush my hair until it glistens, pull fish-nets up long legs, slide into black lingerie.
In the kitchen, I’ve prepared dinner. Dessert’s in the fridge; red wine, chilling on ice; the candle-lit table, set for two.
Outside the weather turns ugly, dampens my mood. Rain slides like tears on the windowpane. Lightning hurls, and thunder booms.
I walk to the sofa, peer out into the night, see headlights

I Care

Teacher: Who is the most important person in this room? (The students all look at each other.)

Teacher: You are. (The teacher’s eyes scan the room.)

Teacher: Never let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. Believe in yourself. You can do and be anything you want, but it’s got to live in your heart – your dream. And right here in this very room sit businessmen, real estate agents, actors, doctors, lawyers, rappers, singers, whatever your heart desires . . .

Teacher: (The teacher goes to the board and draws space, includes the moon and stars.) To me, you’re like an arrow – swift and strong and straight. If your dream burns in your heart, you shoot toward the stars; your eye, on your goal. But if you detour

My Harry

 

 

I climbed in my car and drove; to where, I didn’t know; wasn’t sure where I could find him, never knew where he lived.
I wouldn’t call him an oddball, my Harry. It wasn’t queer that, out of nowhere, he’d turn and lick my cheek. Sometimes he’d sit at my feet and stare. I laughed out loud. I found his gestures endearing, and they warmed my heart.
I remember shared meals and quiet moments when I rustled my hand through his hair.

Unblocking Writer’s Block

Help! Writer’s Block strikes again!

Okay, so I’ve been fighting writer’s block for quite a while. It’s no fun. It’s boring, defeating, dreadful, terrible, irksome, miserable. Need I continue?

To me, it’s like being a trapeze artist, only when you swing out to reach your partner’s hands, you miscalculated and hit dead air.

It’s being a student in writing class; the assignment, write a 5-paragraph essay; only there’s ten minutes left, and you haven’t begun.

It’s comparable to sitting in Math class with a two-page trigonometry test, but you haven’t any clue as to how to work the problems.

What is writer’s block? It’s having a strong desire to write, but words won’t flow;