MILLIE
by Julie Mark Cohen
I fell in love with her the first time I saw her. I'd never seen more seductive curves than hers.
I remember the first time I took her to Jersey Jack's. All the fellas wanted to run their fingers up and down her long sexy neck. I wouldn't let 'em near my love.
When I play with her, she feels so good.
She made me a star. I love her.
#"Shake a leg!" shouted Poppa Wilson, gesturing wildly when he found Luther
otherwise occupied.
"Keep your hands offa her!" Luther snarled.
"We're on in ten minutes!"
"Okay." Luther stopped polishing his guitar, looked at it, and said, "C'mon, old girl."
Copyright 2004 by Julie Mark Cohen. All rights reserved.
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Julie Mark Cohen, Ph.D., P.E., is a consulting structural and forensic engineer who works out of Troy, NY. In late 2003, she treated 55- to 165-word flash fiction as a means to hone her writing skills for her novel SHEAR FOLLY. Now addicted, she is weaving 55-worders into her novel. Contact Julie.
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by M. J. Charika
Just add water. That’s what it says on the packet. I never was one for cooking. I’m a pot-noodle and pizza girl. I shrug and pour the contents into a bowl. A cloud of powder rises up. I have to turn away quickly so that I don’t sneeze.
Jake’s leaning on the door frame, reading the packet. "Are you sure this will work?" he says.
"We’ll see won’t we." I measure out 500mls, holding the jug up to my eye – like Mother used to do. Stir in gradually. Now the pudding is a sugary gloop.
"Hmm. Nice," says Jake, "and that’s going to be chocolate pudding, is it?"
"Oh, Ye of little faith." I pop the mess into the microwave. 6 minutes on high. "There."
Jake slips his arms around me. "I don’t believe this will work," he says, kissing my neck.
I giggle like a teenager and nuzzle into him. "It might."
"If it doesn’t…?" He nips my ear.
I grin. "I’ll just have to go out and get me the real thing."
His kiss makes by body come alive. He sweeps me up. I forget about work and stress and biological clocks. Instant juventation. Just add toy boy.
M J Charika is a scientist. She lives in England with her lovely husband and tries to grow carnivorous plants. She has not had any fiction published before. When it comes to puddings, she prefers chocolate. Contact M. J.
by Elaine Drennon Little
Rain, she thought. Have you ever seen the rain? A rainy night in Georgia. I can’t stand the rain. Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain. Cry like a rainstorm, howl like the wind. Acid rain. Purple rain. The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.
I’m gonna love you, come rain or come shine.
Here’s that rainy day. Fire and rain. Don’t rain on my parade. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. A hard rain’s gonna fall. Spring rain, Louisiana rain, mandolin rain. Someone left a cake out in the rain. It NEVER rains in California…..
I think it’s gonna rain today.
She mentally sing-songed the night away, covering every song she’d ever heard about the cold, cold water that fell from the clouds.
She wiped the wet streaks dripping from her face with the backs of her hands.
It’s only the rainwater, she thought.
A nightmarish daydream so real it supplied its own graphics. She didn’t notice the warmth, the salt, or the dry heaves that accompanied her fate.
It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring……..
Blame it on the rain…….
Rain, rain, go away…..Who’ll stop the damned rain?
Lightning flashed across the night sky.
No, she realized, not lightning, but the headlights of a car.
A car turning into her driveway.
She watched as he got out, hurrying to her door. Smiling. She rushed to open the door, matching his kiss as the whole night melted away like cotton candy on her tongue.
I can see clearly now…………
Elaine Drennon Little is a tired, middle-aged musician and and high school chorus teacher. She has previously published in Dead Mule, The Green Tricycle, The Seeker, The Macon Telegraph & News, and Music K-8 Magazine. She lives in Calhoun, Georgia with her husband, daughter, and many once-stray animals. She is currently working on a novel, Dear Mr. Edison, based on the life and times of a high school musician via the eyes of his teacher. Contact Elaine.
