ALL IS FAIR IN LOVERS' WAR or How I Got Schooled In Love by Eric Price

Through the window of the taxi, I could see a tear in her eye. She still had feelings for me. When she rolled down the window, I knew I would take her back the second she said, “I love you.”

Thunder cracked, and the downpour of rain splattered her face. She looked ready to burst with emotion, and she said, “If I ever see you again, you will regret ever meeting me!”

She rolled up the window and the taxi sped away. I thought it was a tear in her eye–I guess I was mistaken.

****

From the moment I met Mariana, I knew she was “The One.” She had everything I was looking for in a woman: intelligence, a sense of humor, light-brown hair flowing halfway down her back, perky breasts, a Russian accent–I didn’t even know I was looking for a Russian accent until I met Mariana.

I got a job right out of college designing set pieces for plays. Skip ahead a few years to when I landed a job to create the set for MACBETH. I delivered it to the theater the day of the first dress rehearsal. Enter Mariana.

Mariana had gotten her first acting role as the Third Witch. I should have guessed I would fall in love with a witch.

I wasn’t supposed to be at the theater when the cast arrived, but I had gotten a late start that morning. Nelly, a girl I had been seeing for a few weeks, got suspicious that I was cheating on her. Her suspicion aroused when my phone rang. I had gone to take a shower. The caller’s name was Tiffany, and she introduced herself to Nelly as my girlfriend.

In my defense, Tiffany was not my girlfriend. Nelly was. Tiffany was just a girl I had met at a bar a few nights before. I had drunk too much to drive, and she lived within walking distance. I don’t even remember giving her my phone number.

Nelly didn’t give me a chance to explain. I’m finishing my shower when her hand reaches in and turns off the hot water. I scream and turn off the cold. I can hear her yelling about “some slut on the phone,” not wanting to be “the other girl,” and “we’re through!”

I grab my towel and follow her into my kitchen. As she slams the door and leaves, I finally figure out what has happened. I step onto my second story balcony and waited for her to appear outside.

“Nelly, come up here so I can explain,” I say. But she grabs a flowerpot from the patio below and throws it at my head. I duck and the pot shatters against the wall behind me–covering me with soil.

Nelly climbs into her car and peels away, and I have to take another shower. This in turn makes me late setting the stage, and gives me the chance to meet Mariana. To quote MACBETH, “So foul and fair a day I have not seen.” If I had known how bad showering would soon become for me, methinks I may have quit bathing.

Exeunt Nelly and Tiffany–so to speak. I had never intended on talking to Tiffany after the night we had met anyway. Now I was free to see other people.

I took Mariana out for drinks. We had an amazing connection, and the next thing I know, I’m at the theater every day.

Enter Francesca. About a week after the play opened, Mariana’s sister, Francesca, came from Russia to see the play. The three of us went out to dinner, and Francesca made eyes, brushed against me, and tried to get my attention every way she could.

Mariana was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, until I met her sister. But I didn’t care; I loved Mariana.

The third day after Francesca arrived, I had worked myself to the point of exhaustion on a new set. Mariana had the night off, but I had forgotten she had a cast-only party. I went to her place to find Francesca home alone.

I hesitated when she invited me in, but she insisted, “A friend of my sister’s is a friend of mine.”

She opened a bottle of wine and we sat and talked. After two bottles of wine, I said, “Francesca, were you coming on to me the other night?”

She didn’t answer with words. She leaned across the table and kissed me. For the record she kissed me! When she pulled away, any thoughts I had of Mariana left with her. I leaned over for a second kiss.

When Mariana walked in, I can only imagine what it must have looked like. Francesca and I had made a bed out of cushions from the couch and chairs. We lay naked and wrapped in each other’s arms.

She shouted at us in Russian. I stumbled around trying to find my cloths–I hate getting yelled at while I’m naked. Mariana rushed out the door, and I followed only half dressed.

It had started storming sometime after I had fallen asleep. The streetlights shining off the wet pavement made it hard for me to see Mariana. Then I spotted her climbing into a parked taxi–probably the one she had just taken home from the party. Not knowing what else to do, I shouted, “At least we didn’t use your bed!”

The taxi didn’t leave right away. That’s why I thought she had had a change of heart. When she rolled down the window and said I would regret meeting her if she ever saw me again, I took the comment as an empty threat, nothing more than a rage of anger. I realize now she was making a prophesy—like her character in MACBETH.

****

My actions over the next few days eclipsed all the other foolish things I had done to that point. But I was in love. I had never been in love before. You’ve heard the cliché blinded by love. I disagree with it completely. Blind and stupid are not one-in-the-same.

I waited three days to call, and when I did, I got no answer. I left three messages every day for three days. I should have realized all these threes would come back to haunt me. She played the third of three witches, after all. She finally returned my call after the ninth message. I pleaded and begged until she agreed to give me a second chance.

Mariana came to my apartment. She said she wasn’t ready to see me at hers again. I had been working night and day on my sets. I had intended to cook a romantic meal for her, but I ran out of time. When she arrived, I hadn’t even showered. I stunk from sweat, sawdust, and paint.

I opened the door for Mariana and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled and came in. I explained that I had been working all day. I told her I would like to take a shower, and then take her out to dinner at the restaurant of her choice. She agreed and sat down in front of the television. I was hoping she would take a shower with me, but I thought it may be too much to ask presently. So I went to shower alone.

Do you remember when I mentioned I should have quit bathing? Here’s why.

I stood in the shower for about five minutes, letting the hot water sooth my sore muscles before I started shampooing my hair. With my eyes closed, I heard the shower curtain pull aside. Mariana had decided to join me without me having to ask.

I said, “Did you come to get in? The water’s hot, so watch yourself.”

She didn’t reply.

I said, “Mariana?” and opened my eyes a sliver, expecting to see her standing naked.

What I saw, made my eyelids snap open like window blinds in a cartoon. Mariana stood fully clothed holding a huge dagger. She stabbed at me and I instinctively reached for her arm. My hands must have been slippery from the shampoo. Her arm slid through and the dagger dug into my shoulder.

She pulled it out and stabbed at me again. I shouted, “Mariana!” but she was in a trance. I noticed a gleam on her arm as it raced toward me. In what seemed like an eternity, my mind thought, Vaseline? She’s covered her arms in Vaseline? And then the dagger bored into my other shoulder.

The shampoo dripped, stinging my eyes, blinding me. I felt the dagger dig into my stomach before my world went black.

I awoke in the hospital the next day. I’m told that she dialed 911 before leaving my apartment. She never wanted to kill me. She wanted me to suffer.

My lawyer told me I should get my story on paper while it’s still fresh in my memory. So that’s what I’ve done.

****

Eric Price lives with his wife and two sons in northwest Iowa. He began publishing in 2008 when he started writing a quarterly column for a local newspaper. Later that same year he published his first work of fiction, a spooky children’s story called Ghost Bed and Ghoul Breakfast. Since then, he has written stories for children, young adults, and adults. Three of his science fiction stories have won honorable mention from the CrossTime Annual Science Fiction Contest. His first YA fantasy novel, Unveiling the Wizards’ Shroud, received the Children’s Literary Classics Seal of Approval and the Literary Classics Award for Best First Novel. His second novel, The Squire and the Slave Master, continues the Saga of the Wizards. It is scheduled for a September 2015 release. Find him online at authorericprice.com, Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.

The Dog Who Couldn't Wag His Tail

Dog days bring more than summer heat...

I awoke to a cold, dreary, rainy Sunday morning, one of those November days when you want to remain tucked in bed. To stave the chill, I grabbed a steaming cup of coffee and then glanced out my window. He stood in the icy rain, watching me. Whose dog is that? I turned away from the window, wanting nothing to do with another four-legged creature, and proceeded to eat my breakfast.

Hard as I fought it, my eyes kept drifting toward this most unwelcome hungry, wet intruder. The animal’s intense gaze struck me first, and then his lameness. He held his left leg up, clearly unable to walk on it. With a softened heart, I opened the backdoor, but the dog crept deeper into the woods, his tail, broken and hanging between his legs. Pitiful, absolutely pitiful.

By the time we returned from church, I had forgotten about the stray dog. Later I wandered outside where I found him, standing away from the house, watching me from his perch. He held his lame leg off the ground. His ears flattened against his head.

That evening I said to my husband, “Did you see that German-shepherd looking dog in the woods this morning?”

“Don’t even think about it. And anyway I believe he belongs to the neighbors around the corner.”

I sighed, relieved. But the memory of that dog, the yearning in his eyes haunted me.   

  

Days passed. The dog didn’t go away. After I fed my resident canines, he sneaked up to the house and devoured whatever food was left. At first I discouraged this behavior, but when I saw his ribs, I allowed him to scavenge. My heart ached for the miserable life this poor animal led. No way this dog belonged to our neighbors. He clearly belonged to no one.

During the first week, Wolf, as I now called him, hung out in our woods, watched us, and waited for our dogs to finish eating. By the next week, Wolf had his own personal food dish, purchased at Pet Smart with him in mind.

Wolf still refused to come near us. He continued to hang out in the woods while I inched his dish closer and closer to the house. The other dogs played with Wolf. He trusted the dog world, whereas he remained steadfastly fearful of the people world.

As weeks multiplied into months and warm summer days came upon us, Wolf fattened up. But, ticks covered his body. He stood on his lame leg, but his fur was matted and rough.

One night during dinner, Wolf sat on his broken tail at the edge of the woods. I said, “Don’t you think it must be the worst thing in the world for a dog not to be able to wag his tail. It’d be like not being able to laugh.”

“I doubt that dog has had too much to laugh about,” my husband said between bites.   

More months passed. At a safe distance, Wolf watched us pet and play with the other dogs. With his eyes fixed on us, he never moved from his perch. Each night we gave the other dogs Milkbone treats. Not being able to stand seeing the glow of Wolf’s eyes, alone in the dark, I approached him with a treat, but he moved away, tail between his legs, ears flat. I tossed the tasty morsel in his direction. He stopped, sniffed the bone, and gobbled it down.

In the spring my cousins came to visit. Being animal lovers, they talked and played with our dogs. My cousin, Frank, cajoled Wolf to come to him. But Wolf kept his distance and merely watched the strangers. Before Frank left, he said, “That dog will be the most lovable of your dogs one day.”  I laughed, completely rejecting Frank’s prediction. What did he know?  He hadn’t been dealing with Wolf for over a year. I had resigned myself to Wolf’s self-imposed distance. At least now he had food every day.

After the seasons changed again from summer to winter and back to summer, I no longer tossed the Milkbone treat to Wolf. He took the bone from my hand held at arm’s length. By now Wolf ate with the other dogs and didn’t creep into the woods whenever the door to the house opened. But he still watched us warily and never let us approach him.

On a hot, humid day in August while I held the Milkbone treat toward Wolf, his tongue touched my hand. Oh, my God! He licked me. Surely he didn’t mean it. The next day Wolf did it again. Bubbling with excitement, I flew in the house to report what Wolf had done.

The following day while Wolf ate, I approached him, stopped, and stood. My heart thundered, my hand trembled. I reached out and, for the first time in over two years, stroked the top of Wolf’s head. He lowered his body, but he didn’t jerk away. His fur felt course, not smooth like the other dogs. His huge brown eyes studied me with a mixture of resignation and fear, but his broken tail lifted slightly.

That warm summer I began petting Wolf regularly. When he lowered his head, as if he thought I might strike him, I raised his chin. The fear in his eyes transformed to trust and love with each stroke. But best of all, he lifted his broken tail as high as he could, and he began wagging it. For the first time since that cold November day, Wolf wagged his tail and lifted his ears. Tears of joy filled my eyes.

Today, Wolf has no ticks. He’s a well-fed, neutered animal with a shiny black coat. Unfortunately his former life left wounds. His limp comes and goes apparently from an old injury. But that doesn’t stop him from running to greet us every night with his broken tail held as high as he can raise it and wagging with such force that his entire backend wiggles. Indeed, he has become the most affectionate canine in our pack.

The dog days of August for some mean days that are so full of heat and humidity the dogs go crazy, howling from the burning temperatures. In Georgia we say, It’s too hot to work. For me, however, dog days in August mean something totally different.

It was during those "dog days" that Wolf finally lifted his head and wagged his tail.

MuseItUp publishing will release the print version of The Clock Strikes Midnight this month, August 2015.

Reader Flash - Share Your Own Story

Now it’s your turn. We’d love for you to share your own LOVE inspired flash fiction. In no more than about 200 words share a story of first love, crush, unrequited love, or broken-hearts.  Make us fall in or out of love with you.

Show us your writing chops. Post anonymously if you want, but keep it PG-13 rated. A good test is to ask yourself if you would want to read it to your teenager.

Leave your story in the comments and feel free to leave encouraging comments for other flashers!

Time to Talk Love

photo credit

Because LIGHTNING QUICK READS is a themed, blog we like to encourage discussion about the monthly theme. To encourage some give and take, we raise a few questions of our own that we'd love to hear your input on, but we want you to feel comfortable to ask a question of your own. So, let's talk about love!

IS TEEN LOVE 'REAL'?

This is a discussion I had with my daughter a few times when she was younger. I never, ever wanted to dismiss her feelings or belittle them, but I felt it was important to explain that I believed the love a teenager experiences isn't the same love they will experience as an adult. I do think teenagers can fall in love. BUT I don't believe the love we fall into as a teenagers is the same kind of love needed to endure without some growth and maturity. There are so many life events that teach us to value our love, loss, struggle, helplessness - just to name a few.

What do you think about teen love? Go ahead and throw tomatoes if you feel I deserve it, but tell us how you feel about teenage love. Real or pretend?

February's Theme

Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken…

-Shakespeare Sonnet 116

Hello! Welcome to Lightning Quick Reads, where each month our awesome authors bring you stories, in a flash! We each have our own day, so be sure to check back often.

Last month our theme was GOALS, where we each wrote many and varied tales on the subject. Can you guess what the theme is for this month? Hint: It's the month of roses and candy and hearts and first kisses. Yes! It's LOVE, in the glorious and sometimes hurtful guises of first love, unrequited love, or star-crossed love.

While my story will be the tale of unrequited love between a wizard and his apprentice, there's no knowing what our talented authors will come up with. It might be a contemporary or mystery story of star-crossed lovers. An epic sci/fi of unrequited love between aliens. Or maybe a sweet fantasy of first love between the fairy prince and the girl he rescues from the ogre.  It could even be a non-fiction. It's hard to say! With the many twists and turns love can take, who knows where our imagination will go?

But one thing you can count on with my stories is that there will always be a happy ending. Sometimes there's an unexpected turn or my characters move in a direction you might not want, but they always end up content with their lot. Love is an intense, scary, wild, heart wrenching, beautiful emotion that doesn't always bring us the joy we imagine. But when I'm writing, I figure, I'm the one creating this story and these people are darn well going to get their happily ever after.

Which reminds me. Start thinking of a story of love you'd like to tell. Later this month on February 25th. we'll open the blog up for our readers to share their own flash fiction pieces. Will yours be a fantasy? Contemporary love story? You chose! I love to write flash fiction and am really looking forward to reading yours.

Okay, I have to ask, what is your favorite Valentine's Day gift, even if it's one you're saving for the future? Is it candy and flowers? Jewelry? A nice dinner out? Being a floral designer, the best gift from my sweetie is dinner ready and maybe chocolate and wine by the fire afterwards.

So glad you stopped in! To keep track of all the great stories and fun happenings this month, you can follow this blog. And if you like, follow us on FACEBOOK, a great way to keep up with what’s going on with our authors, which story is up for your enjoyment, and join in our lively discussions. I'll see you back here soon!

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”  -Lao Tzu

Artwork by Marcel Stevahn  -One Good Eye Photography