Wednesday, August 31, 2011

ONCE UPON A CLICHE, Part 2

By Heather McCoy

I was madder than a wet hen. My friends had pulled me out of the frying pan and into the fire. I could feel my blood boil. I'd had it up to here with their attempts to make me happy.

Sure, time heals all wounds, but I was perfectly happy sowing my wild oats. Besides, I could still feel the egg on my face from the last relationship I screwed up. And I had always heard that history repeats itself.

Once bitten, twice shy, I did all I could NOT to fall for him. I was used to walking on eggshells around a drunken man who talked with his fists. The more I watched him, guitar in hand, the more I realized I should just take the bull by the horns. I would jump in head first - no reservations, no fears.

But this man was too good to be true. He sang like a bird and stole my breath away. His eyes his body, his smell - they all just sweetened the pot. Love no longer seemed like an uphill battle. It was as warm and inviting as grandma's kitchen.

He was a kind man; the type of man that would give you the shirt off his back. He was a real man - a man's man, strong as on ox. He had skeletons in the closet, but so did I.

I took a deep breath, crossed my fingers, and followed him out to the porch. "Hello," I mustered, tongue tied.

He took another draw from his cigarette, not missing a beat, before replying, "Hey."

I grew as water. It was time to sink or swim...

Now I look back on how I almost cut off my own nose to spite my face. He was nearly the one who got away. My dream man, my soul mate. I thank my lucky stars for my love and the twist of fate that brought us together.

***

Heather McCoy rocks it like a peanut butter famine (copyright Joey Goebel)

Play This When I'm Beneath the Stone

Sunday, August 28, 2011

ONCE UPON A CLICHE, Part 1

By Heather McCoy

It was a dark and stormy night, raining like cats and dogs. There was lightning as far as the eye could see, and I had an axe to grind.

He was a bad seed, but I fell head over heels anyway. He danced to the beat of a different drummer; cold as ice and hot as a fox in a firestorm. His eyes looked straight through me. I grew weak in the knees and fell like a ton of bricks.

I had opened up a Pandora's Box, but I never take the path of least resistance. He came into my life, guns a'blazin and tore my heart out.

A Welfare Christmas

This is not a test. Please understand this is not a test.


(yes it is)

The Airgonaut - 2018 Best Small Fictions & Pushcart Prize Nominees

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