Flash fiction – red roses

Red roses. A sign of romantic interest, elegant sensuality, and passionate love.

Yes, I have received red roses, but mine weren’t accompanied by affection, butterflies fluttering around my stomach, or flirtatious kisses and caresses.

Mine came with feminine shame, a statement of sexual entitlement, and a paranoia I just can’t shake. I fear I see him in the cereal aisle while picking out my Cheerios. I peek over my shoulder again and again as I walk the driveway to my mailbox. I wake in the predawn, still riding the waves of a nightmare that bleeds into waking reality.

All because of red roses.

One Minute Monologue – Mine Now

I’ve been reading a book of one minute monologues, and it inspired me to try my own hand at writing them. Here is my first try, inspired in part by watching the Netflix series “YOU”.

“Mine Now”

We met at an estate sale. You were selling off the remnants of your grandmother’s 80-something years, and I was looking for some cheap antiques. I bent over to sort through a box of old vinyl records, trying to ignore the smell of cat piss and mustiness that permeated the air.

That’s when I spotted you on the stairs – long black hair pulled back into a pony tail, muscular, tanned arms lugging another box of old junk to the sale room.

Our eyes met as you neared the bottom step. You smiled in recognition, though we had never met before. I decided right then that you were mine now, regardless of whether you wanted to be or not. I hoped you would put up a good fight. It always makes the game feel exciting and new…and the eventual conquest more satisfying.

My Mother Helped a Guy to Stalk Me

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Lately I’ve been dealing with a lot of resentment and anger towards my mother. To explain why, let me share a specific incident that kind of illustrates why I am upset.

When I was 14/15, my mother worked with a guy named Danny who met me and developed a huge crush on me. He was in his late teens or early twenties, but was definitely an adult already. I DID NOT share his romantic interest and made that plain. I had absolutely no interest in dating him or getting to know him better. He bought me an expensive bracelet as a gift, which I immediately returned to him to make it clear I wasn’t interested.

Even with my mother knowing how I felt and that I was stressed out by the attention, she actually egged him on in spite of how I felt or what I wanted. She even gave him our home address and told him when I would be home. So, he ended up coming to my house while I was there alone and banged on the door and called my name for what felt like forever. He yelled about how he knew I was home because my mom had told him so. I never answered the door or responded to his calls. In fact, I hid in the closet because I was scared at the aggressiveness he was displaying.

I felt like I was being stalked, and worst of all, my own mother was encouraging it. This is just one small incident that portrays an issue with boundaries and respecting my privacy that was even more disturbing in other ways which perhaps I will share someday if and when I am ready to do so. I know it might sound odd, but I almost have a feeling like my mother WANTED to whore me out for some reason. I can’t even describe what that did to me psychologically.