Vote for Reader’s Choice Award

Hello fellow creatives!  My short story Falling In Love is published in short fiction break and I need your help to win the reader’s choice award. There are a lot of stories with similar titles as the contest theme was falling in love so please be sure to choose the one by Amber Meyer. Big thanks and happy writing.

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Excerpt Falling In Love

Thomas looked around at the sage green walls. The soothing color did little to ease his nerves. There was a piece of framed art on the east wall. A piano with a vase full of flowers on top. He’d stared at it a million times, dissecting every inch. No good. His eyes drifted back to Rhonda. Her veins so purple and swollen from over use of an IV that the shock of seeing them never wore off. Two long years she’d been lying there. The doctors rarely came. If they did, it was at night after he’d gone home. Of course, he’d heard of cases where people just woke up. Helpful friends were always sharing the story of someone, who knew someone, who knew someone, who’d heard of a miracle. Some such bullshit. It was clear to him that it was over. Clear to everyone, but Rhonda’s mother Alvera. The woman had hope, and she was washed in the blood of the spirit. She led weekly prayer vigils at church, and each day seemed more certain that her only child would be returned to her. Thomas admired her faith, but his hopes of having Rhonda back had receded as quickly as the tide. He wanted to believe. He envied her hope.
Mostly these days, he came to the hospital out of obligation. Obligation or guilt or a mixture of the two. A sudden chipper voice snapped him out of his somber thoughts. It contradicted his emotions with such intensity, it felt like trying to look at the sun. He turned with the intention of scowling at the new nurse, but thought different when he saw the flowing red hair cascading down her shoulders. He blinked twice to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. She was beautiful. Really beautiful. A stunning kind of sexuality sizzled in every movement she made.
The beautiful nurse walked up to Rhonda’s bedside and took her pulse with a frown. Thomas studied her face. His gaze slid slowly down. She turned to meet his eyes with a pouty-lipped expression. Kind of like a child with a broken toy.
“How long?” She said.
“Two years,” he said.
“Oh dear. You poor thing,” she said as she walked around the bed and gave him a big hug. Her hair smelled like fresh peaches. He didn’t want her to let go. It had been so long. She walked back around and picked up the chart.
“This is my last round of the day,” she said. “No harm in taking a few extra minutes.” Her hair fell gently on the chart in front of her as she studied it with her stunning blue eyes. “Tsk. Tsk. So sad. A car accident.”
“Yeah,” Thomas said with a shrug. “On her way to meet her mother at church.”
“Oh,” she said. “Was she a good Christian?”
“Devout,” said Thomas. “A much better person than I.” He added giving her a hungry look.
“I see,” she said walking to the door and peeking out. “My shift is up. How about I buy you a drink? You’ve been through a tough time.”
“Really?” He said, not believing his luck.
“Sure,” she whispered. “Meet me at Smitty’s, across the street, in twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes,” he repeated, still in disbelief. “Wait about ten minutes and then leave,” she said. “Technically I could get in trouble for seeing a patient’s husband after hours.” She smiled and waved as she walked out the door.
His heart pounded and his ears buzzed with excitement as did other parts of him that hadn’t been awakened in a long time. Long before Rhonda’s accident. Rhonda had always had very definite ideas about how their bedroom activities should be conducted. Come to think of it, she’d had definite ideas about how he should do everything. What few things Rhonda didn’t have an opinion on, Alvera did and no qualms about letting them be known. He stared at the clock. Nine more minutes. He got up and walked to the window. He longed to open the window and let in some fresh air, but it was an old hospital and there were bars on the windows. Rumor had it there used to be an asylum on this floor and they did it to keep the patients from jumping. It was probably good in a way. More than once he stared out window and felt like taking the plunge. But today was not one of those days. Six more minutes passed and he could see her cross the street. She’d changed into a little black dress, but he was certain it was her. He started to pace like a panther in a cage. The minutes dragged. Finally, it was time. He walked to the door and flicked out the light.
“Thomas,” said a voice from behind….

Read the rest at Short Fiction Break.

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My Stephen King inspired short story "The Robbery", Part I

I have tackled a project of massive proportions this time.  To imitate the work of a fellow author.  And not just any author, but one of the greats and someone still breathing.  There is always that tiny stab of fear in the heart of a writer that their work will not be received by the world.  My fears are magnified by mental pictures of the actual Stephen King reading my obscure blog and shaking his head in disgust.  In my mind he’s wearing a smoking jacket and puffing on a pipe like Hugh Hefner.  Don’t ask me why.  Who knows where my mind comes up with this shit.  With that, I shall dive off the proverbial cliff.  I’m bringing this story to you in serial form.  Your thoughts and comments are much appreciated.

The Robbery, Part I

“Yeah sure.  I’d love to go out,” Annabeth Reynolds said.  His face erupted in a smile.  He knew he should say something, but all he could do was grin and nod like an idiot.  She stared at him.  Her gaze was intense and kind of magical.  Just like an actress from an old black and white movie like his grandma made him watch with her on Tuesday nights.

“I like Chinese food,” she offered.

“How about Mandarin Garden?” He stammered out.  It was the only Chinese place in town.

“Sounds good.  Pick me up at 6:30?”

He nodded and grinned some more and she turned to walk away throwing him one last sidelong glance with a wave.

The next day, he quivered with excitement.  His brain was on fire with anticipation as he tried to run errands.  A girl like Annabeth had never given him the time of day before.  Not until word got around that he’d been accepted into the pre-med program at Brown University.  Now Jack Trimble wasn’t a nerdy loser anymore.  He was going places.  And to most girls in town, that made him a potential ticket out of this shithole.  Sure, he had a long road of study and hard work a head, but it beat the hell out of spending his life working at the snack factory or pumping gas at the Stop-N-Go.  Those were the most promising choices if you stayed in Chesterfield.  And that’s if you were lucky.

He backed out of the parking space at Mark’s Finer Foods.  He always went shopping for Nana on Friday’s after school.  Since the knee replacement anyway.  He heard the ding of his cell phone that signaled he had a text.  He reached for the phone, but it had fallen between the console and the seat in his mom’s Ford Windstar.  He dug furiously between the seat as he raced across the parking lot.  It was probably Annabeth or Nana.  He was running a little late.  He had to pick up a few extra things for tonight.  Nana wouldn’t be happy, but oh well.  He looked down.  The message was from Annabeth.  About tonight…

A sudden thud jolted him so hard his jaw slammed shut.  A crunch of metal as something hit the hood and then fell to the pavement.  Oh God.  What just happened?  A Dog.  Let it be a dog.  His hands shook so violently, he could barely pull the handle.  He finally stumbled out.  People were gathering around now.  Everyone stared at something in stunned horror.  All he could see was yellow hair with a red ribbon.  He didn’t want to see, but he couldn’t stop moving.  He had to know.  He crept toward the limp form on the ground.  He could see her face now.  Her mouth half open as if she meant to scream.  The body twisted at an odd angle.  The eyes looked up at him, but they were vacant.  He knew immediately that she was dead and that his life was over.