Tag Archives: Rape

Friday Fiction – All The Way Turnt Up

First day home alone with my two little balls of wonder – wish me luck!

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Today’s FF prompt is from Kent Bonham. I wasn’t instantly inspired, but a google search for inspiration turned up this video and the story was born. Your comments and critique are welcome and encouraged.

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All The Way Turnt Up

Sophie couldn’t remember how she’d gotten to the club. Did she know this boy grinding against her? Where was the entrance? And what was this music, pounding against her head like a jackhammer and making it hard to think or remember or see? The walls pulsed like they were breathing – rapid and ragged like she was.

His hand swept around her. It felt warm and sticky against her skin. What had happened to her favourite jacket? Had she put it down somewhere?

“Let’s clear out of here,” he said, in a voice like treacle. “I have a place for you.”

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Friday Fiction – Childhood Dreams

Fans of the old, dark, miserable Elmo, will be delighted to hear that today’s piece returns to form. Hopefully subtly enough not to upset any younger readers, but if you’ve been lulled into a false sense of security by happier posts, consider this a warning of “Adult Themes” and also “Some Readers May Find This Distressing”. Feel free to come back another time if you prefer not to read on.

As ever, I welcome feedback – good and bad. At which point I’d like to thank those who stopped by yesterday’s pitch slam – if you didn’t get chance, check out the link in my post yesterday (https://elmowrites.wordpress.com/2012/03/29/pitch-perfect/).

Thanks again to Madison for the prompt, you can find her story, and links to the others, at http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/flash-fiction/old-truck-100-words/

Childhood Dreams

When Annie found the abandoned truck, she thought it would be a good place to hide: away from her brothers, and her father’s grimy hands. She knelt behind the wheel and pretended she could drive away from this town. But then Daddy found her there, and the truck became as grimy as his hands.

Twelve years later, her sons found the truck, barely touched by time. They took turns to sit at the wheel and imagine driving away. After dusk, they told each other ghost stories, and pretended they heard heavy breathing, screaming, and saw shapes moving in the darkness.

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