This weeks flash fiction has come and its a doooozey. Thanks for the tricky prompts Vin!
I chose the second prompt "There's something this person has strived their whole life to accomplish, and just as they try to really begin, they are stopped by some other force."
if you want to try AND YOU REALLY SHOULD, check out the card here.
Turned To Dust
She settles into the sleek black limousine without a sideways glance at her driver. As usual he is standing straight, one hand on the door handle, holding it open while the other holds the umbrella over her. With a quiet snap, the door is shut and she hears the driver start the car. The black privacy window is already firmly shut. He knows better than to think she wants to remember that he exists.
“In just 1 week the paper work will be signed and I will be Mrs. VanTrotter.” A chuckle escapes her perfectly red stained lips and she stares at the diamond that weighs heavy on her hand. No longer a drunk miners daughter, she speaks like she's from New York.
Orphaned at a ripe, young age of 2, a wealthy bachelor scooped her off his stoop and raised her to be a proper lady. Right…if only her fiancé could see the trailer she grew up in. He wouldn't even let his dog, Titus, piss on it.
Her real past isn't hers anymore. Full of dirt, empty fridges, and bar room bathrooms, that is Stacy’s life. She goes by Jamie now. She takes out her mirror and powders her face again making sure the summer freckles are still covered. Only poor people have freckles.
She gazes out the window as her new house comes into view. A towering mansion that she has stared at since she was a kid, way off up the road of Buckmill Holler. She dreamed of living here since her mother left, since her father kept drinking, since she realized she didn't have the money to get herself out of Kentucky.
But she was always better then those dirty holler kids, she thought, taking the drivers hand and stepping out of her car. She grabbed the cupcake she brought just for her love. The one that believes she is a beautifully tragic New Yorker with a bank account. The one who has no idea she gave up herself to be the one he would marry. The one who would pay for her happiness.
She walks through the door and sneaks up the stairs. He wasn't feeling well today, she’ll surprise him in bed with the fake innocence that drive rich men like him wild. Pushing open the door she sees a red bra, far to big, and tattered on the floor and a moan that isn't hers escaping some white trash, bleach blond, holler girl whose between his sheets.
Her fiancé comes up from beneath the sheets and tosses her a half glance. “Found out a lot when I went slumming today.” His face is grinning, that smile only a kid who has never went without excess can pull off.
Before she could scream, make a fuss that warrants a bigger ring then her engagement one the tacky bimbo whispers, “Oh hey Jamie, or should I say Stacy,”
Jamie sister pushes her fiancee off, and with a grin spits directly in Jamie's face and walks out.
Its dark outside now. The smell of gasoline fills her nose and as she stares at the dream that was almost hers. And its all been for nothing. Staying skinny all these years, disappearing from home, ignoring calls, aiming for perfection; reinventing her entire life.
And its all been unwound by her sister.
She sparks a match and throws it. Flames shooting up at once and screams sounding as the fire grows, consuming the gas until the windows shatter and there is no more screaming.
“If I cant have this, no body can”, she thinks.