Five Sentence Fiction: Hunger

Rain © Lisa Shambrook

The rain fell, heavy and abrupt, and before Lily had a chance to move she was soaked, the sky’s tears drenching her t-shirt and darkening her mud-splattered jeans. Shaking, dirt-ridden hands hung at her sides and she stared up into the roiling clouds as the heavens wept with her.

Lily bit her lip as her fingers trembled through her straggly tresses then she flung out her arms in defiance as she twirled; starved vengeance served as she whirled. Her hair spun out in heavy, water-laden rat-tails as she ravenously kicked up earth, and the rain danced on her skin and drummed upon the fresh mound under her feet.

Her laugh echoed as she buried far more than a corpse beneath the hammering of dawn’s heavy downpour.

Another Five Sentence Fiction for the word prompt Hunger…make of it what you will in its ambiguity!

Love Bites 2014: No More

As one of the hosts for Love Bites 2014, I feel compelled to join in and write, even though my entry is inadmissible…so here is my story on Love Gone Bad, Bad Valentine and Cupid Screwing Up His Shot:

Photo by Lisa Shambrook
(Please do not use without permission)

No More 

She clamped her mouth closed, biting on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She gripped her loose dress, clutching a handful of printed flowers adorning the soft material in her hand over the pit of her churning stomach. Brows furrowed above wide, hazel flecked eyes and she flinched as spittle and words sprayed across her face.
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he swallowed and scowled at her. She glanced away as his glare speared her, but her neck snapped upwards as he grabbed and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
Her tooth pierced her bottom lip and a bead of ruby grew spilling inside her mouth.
The veins in his neck stood out, pulsing to match the throb of the vein that tremored on his forehead. His nostrils flared and his eyes bulged as she met his stare.
She swallowed hard, blood leaving a thick metallic taste on her tongue. Fear seeped through her bones, a cold sweat blooming over her alabaster skin.
“Don’t you ever look at another man…” he sneered, alcohol tinging his breath. “You’re mine.”
She shook her head, leaning back against the wall as sweat prickled her skin. She closed her eyes, unable to stare into his any longer. His finger and thumb gripped tighter and slid down her smooth neck pinching her windpipe.
“If you do, you’ll never look at another man again.” His words swam inside her head. “Not ever.”
Inside her brain latent emotions kicked in, supressed desires and hidden urges took hold. For too long she’d given everything to this man, to this pig, and as fog coursed through her mind her mouth dropped open, trying to gain breath. Blood from her bitten lip trickled onto her tongue and her skin tingled.
Desire swayed through her body, she arched and she licked her lips.
“You like that do you?” he smirked, “A bit of rough, well I can give you more of that!”
She fought the urge to vomit as he leaned against her, his body hard and obvious. His spare hand dropped to his belt, loosening it as he grinded against her. “That’s more like it…” he leered, releasing her neck and winding his fingers in her golden mane. His lips crushed hers and her eyes flashed open.
She stiffened and pulled her hand away from her stomach, wedged between their bodies. She swallowed again tasting her blood and her vision blurred as the flavour lodged inside her brain. She turned her head, letting his slobbery lips slide across her cheek, and as he breathed in to release the zip on his jeans, she opened her mouth against his neck. His breath rasped and caught as her hand moved down his thigh, and he pushed harder.
A smile tickled her lips. “No more…” she whispered.
“Uh?” he panted, sliding his hand through her hair, and trying to shrug out of his trousers.
“No more…” she murmured against his stubbled neck and sank her teeth into his bulging jugular.
“No more,” she whispered as she wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her pale hand. “No more,” she breathed, sated and full. She grabbed her leather jacket, zipped it up, flung her golden hair over her shoulder and stepped out into the chill of the night. “No more.”

(559 Words)

There are four more days left to write your own story…go write yours and link up here!
Have fun with Cupid!

Blues Buster: Rumble in Brighton

This week’s song prompt for Jeff’s Mid-Week Blues-Buster is The Stray Cats and ‘Rumble in Brighton’. So, I come from Brighton, I’m not missing a chance to write about it, lol!

Photo and texture by Lisa Shambrook – Madeira Drive, Brighton

(Please do not use without permission)

Rumble in Brighton

Tanya stared down at her fingernails peeling off a chipped strip of Constance Carroll’s ‘Shimmering Twilight’. She flicked it and watched it glint and flutter like a cheap butterfly in the morning sun. She looked up and gazed at the river of cubic zirconia cast across the ocean by the early morning sun. She peeled away more nail polish, until an inhibiting hand rested gently on hers. Tanya sighed and tucked her hands between her thighs, deep in her lap. She gazed out across the promenade, between the green, seafront railings and watched the glittering water. Morning’s breeze blew away the fog.

***

“Tanya, come here.” Steve’s wet kiss smeared her cheek as she avoided him. “No, a proper one!” He caught her chin and planted his lips squarely on hers. She hoped her smile was an accurate portrayal of devotion, but her stomach crawled and knotted with disgust. 

“Let’s parrrrtay!” Gary grinned and pinched Zoe’s bum. Zoe slapped him and Tanya’s smile broadened. 

Steve grabbed Tanya again and the smell of cheap beer soured his lips. “Tan, you’re mine tonight. I’m not doing this without my girl.” He looped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, his stubble grazing her neck. “We’re gonna have some fun tonight.” 

The sound of mopeds buzzed along Madeira Drive and Gary whooped. “C’mon, let’s go!” He straightened his leather jacket and stroked his skinny jeans suggestively. “I need lubrication, got any Brylcreem?” he quipped. 

Steve laughed and flicked his cigarette. “No, but I did shave just for the occasion!” He ran his hand across his newly bald scalp. “Like it Tan? ‘Cos I sure like what you’re wearing tonight!”  

Zoe snarled. “I thought Brylcreem was the fifties, not seventies?”

“Don’t matter!” Gary shook his head. “We’re re-enacting and it’s the eighties, who cares about accuracy?”

“It’s a party!” Steve twirled Tanya. “So let’s do it!” He raised his can of Stella and showered Tanya. 

The party broke down when bicycle chains and razor blades appeared, and all hell broke loose. Blue lights and sirens lit up the strip and Steve dragged Tanya through the heaving throng. “Don’t want no trouble…” he said, “Let’s have fun on our own…”

They stumbled across the railings and Volk’s railway track, and onto the dark beach. Tanya fought to stay upright in her white stilettos.  Away from the anarchy Steve pushed her against the concrete groyne and chuckled. “We’ve got a ringside seat for this…it’s going mental up there!” He stared wide-eyed up at the raucous on Madeira Drive then he spun back and grabbed Tanya’s hand. He kissed her fingertips then thrust her hand down to his belt. He pinned her against the groyne and pressed his lips against hers. Tanya’s head began to swim. “Steve, don’t…” she tried to speak. 

Steve pressed his mouth harder and drowned out her words, instead his hand slid up her thigh, beneath her denim skirt, and Tanya shifted sideways. Her foot twisted on the pebbles, her heel snapped and as she slipped Steve forced her down onto the stones. She tried to cry out, but the noise up on the strip was too loud. Steve came down on top of her and began unbuckling his belt. Tanya fought, and pebbles bruised her spine as he held her down. 

Tanya’s head whirled and she fought the urge to throw up. Instead she rolled her hand up Steve’s leg and moved her fingers towards his groin. He moaned in anticipation as she slipped her hand inside his pocket, feeling for the bulge she knew was there, caressing exactly what she was looking for.

***

Tanya stared absently across the beach and untucked her hands. The wind raised goose bumps across her flesh and she lifted her chipped fingernails to her face. She began to pick at her nails again, and the WPC beside her shook her head. “Forensics need to examine everything, even your nails,” she said. Tanya watched as policemen clambered across bloodied pebbles, and she smiled as a cop finally raised his arm, holding Steve’s own blood-stained flick-knife aloft. Tanya sighed and the morning sun sparkled on the handcuffs entwining her wrists.       

(695 Words)