Micro Fiction Monday: Eye Contact

Brown eyes.

Green eyes.

I never thought about how beautiful brown eyes could be.

I always thought green eyes were overrated.

But somehow, it was the first thing I noticed about her.

On him, though....I didn’t mind.

Her hair was purple and bright, it’s a wonder why I didn’t notice it first.

His hair was a natural, unassuming brown. Not a speck of dye to be found; not a frizzy, damaged mess like mine.

She was beautiful.

He was gorgeous.

I lost her in the crowd a moment later.

The room was packed, the air sticky with sweat and beer.

I pushed my way through other party goers, looking for a glimpse of her bright hair.

He blended in really well. I lost him as quickly as I saw him.

She was surprisingly easy to lose track of.

I kept my eyes open for the rest of the night. I stayed way longer than I meant to.

I asked the host of the party if he knew her. He didn’t.

I didn’t know anyone. Eventually, I left.

I gave up the search and pushed my way outside.

I stopped the cab when he came outside.

A flash of purple, glimmering in the streetlights.

Found you.

    

Found her.

Just a Dream (Micro-Fiction Monday)

She awoke with a start; heart pounding, sweat dabbing at her forehead, breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. It was just a dream, she thought. It’s always just a dream.

It was never just a dream.

It was 2:16 in the morning. Across town, young adults were still partying. Even if the pounding beat of the clubs died down and the bouncers kicked them out, they would carry on, the smell of alcohol following them faithfully around town. In her own neighbourhood, the streets were quiet. Filled with families and elderly couples, each house had turned in for the night. The lights were dark, the inhabitants sleeping and dreaming peacefully.

Partiers and dreamers. Neither act really appealed to her. So instead, she walked.

She walked down the stairs; past her worn mother, asleep on the couch. She walked out the door; a shiver voiced her skin’s complaints at the sudden change in temperature. She hadn’t thought to grab a coat.

She walked down the street, past her sleeping neighbours in their silent houses, past the deserted parks and darkened store windows. She walked until her skin felt tight and stiff from the cold, until her feet started to complain, until dreaming finally started to appeal to her. She walked until her legs gave out, sending her spiraling downwards. The ground was like liquid; she sunk beneath it as she fell, the cold earth swallowing her. The ground was alive; it reached up, closed itself around her neck, too eager and impatient for her to sink naturally. It had to pull her down itself.

She awoke with a start; heart pounded, sweat dabbing at her forehead, breath coming out in short gasps. It was just a dream.

It was never just a dream for her.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Halloween Bash (Micro-Fiction Monday)

I’m in the basement. Why am I in the basement? That’s, like, rule number one of horror movies: don’t go into the basement. I’m going to be the first one to die . Way to go, self.

Of course, the only reason I’m down here is because everyone else is too drunk to make it down the steep stairs without killing themselves. Serves me right for throwing a Halloween bash, I guess.

I thought that this would be a good idea. For one, it would give everyone an excuse to dress up—even the people who pretended that they were “too cool” for the holiday. For two, I’ve never actually thrown a party before—lame, I know. But Halloween seemed like the perfect opportunity for a first run.

I didn’t anticipate, of course, the power cutting out halfway through the festivities. The lights, the music, everything went black once we blew a fuse. The drunks didn’t seem to mind—they’re still enjoying themselves upstairs, telling ghost stories with flashlights and scaring the crap out of each other.

My house, my party, my circuit breaker.  Everybody seemed to assume that I’d go down and fix it myself…despite my absolute hatred of this damp and musty basement.

I find the box easy enough, as well as the switch to start the party up again. I hear cries of protest upstairs when I flip it, but oh well. I’m not partying in the dark.

I turn around and almost bump into a figure behind me. I let out a shriek and jump back, heart pounding. I take a breath to calm myself once I get a good look at the mask—it’s from one of those movies that came out, like, twenty years ago, with the white face and the open-mouthed look and the black, oval-shaped eyes. I know immediately that it’s Jared—he’s the only one here wearing it.

“Jared,” I say with a scowl, “go back upstairs to the party.”

He turns around and walks away without a word. Jerk.

I rejoin the party shortly after, where everyone directs their moans and groans toward me.

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” I say sarcastically. “By the way, Jared? Totally not cool.”

“What?”

“You scared the crap out of me down there!”

He lifts the mask off his head. “I’ve been up here the whole time,” he says. Everyone nods along, agreeing with his statement.

“So…if it wasn’t you…” I feel the candy I’ve been eating all night churn in my stomach and rise into my throat. “Who was it?”

A blood curdling scream does more than enough to answer my question.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne