Speaking dulcifluously.

            I gazed at him from behind the large pristinely kept sheet of glass with disbelief pouring off of me in waves. I just couldn’t believe it. But there he was sitting at our usual green padded booth with a cup of steaming coffee atop the table. The white steam danced in front of his face. A small pile of white sheets of paper were set in front of him along with a small cup of mismatched crayons. He stared down at the topmost sheet as he began to doodle something, his tongue poked at the side of his cheek from his concentration. But although my eyes saw him with perfect clarity, I just could not for the life of me comprehend what was going on. It made absolutely no sense. It was illogical. It made my head throb.

            Geoffrey. My best friend Geoffrey Bennet was inside of Beth’s Café waiting for me to go sit with him and have our usual meal there. And that’s what didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t have been Geoffrey sitting at that booth. Geoffrey was dead. He’d been dead. He should be dead. He had to be dead. I was at his funeral just last month for God’s sake. Yet there he was on the other side of the window bobbing his head and most likely humming along to whatever song the jukebox was playing. The only logical explanation that made any sense was that the guy inside was just some dude who merely appeared very similarly to Geoffrey.

            But the longer I stood at that window and watched him, the most certain I was of his authenticity. Tall and lean with arms that girls loved to hang onto. His skin was slightly tanned since his pale skin seemed to be opposed to absorbing the sun’s rays. It was hard to tell from our distance but I’m certain that if I were close enough, I’d be able to see his bright blue eyes that always reminded me of a placid and sunny ocean. And then there was the short buzzed honey brown hair, he never cut it any other way. He wore a dark blue long sleeve shirt with a grey fitted vest over it. That had to be him. There was of course, a chance that it could be a familiar looking stranger, but deep down I knew it was him. I bet that if I were closer, I’d be able to see the stupid anchor that we got tattooed onto our wrists after graduation.

            My nerves were a wreck which further aggravated the pit in my stomach that was giving a constant nauseous feeling. It was debilitating and they hadn’t left me since I had found that stupid note earlier today. “I’m not dead. Meet me tonight at Beth’s for dinner. I’ll be at our usual place. Don’t tell anyone.” It was even written in Geoffrey’s large sloppy handwriting. And as usual, it was done with a blue inked pen. But now, seeing him intensified the sensations. Geoffrey lifted him arm up and checked the time before going back to his drawing. May I should just leave. For all I know, none of this was even real. Maybe the sleeping pills I had come to depend on were causing me to have a vivid dream. Or the trauma from losing my best friend had finally caught up and was causing my brain to create a second reality within itself where—

            The couple sitting on the other side of the window had finally gotten annoyed with me peering in and tapped at the glass. I immediately ducked down and scrambled away from the windows before anyone else could catch me. My hands were shaking, hell my entire body was trembling. I dashed across the street into the 711 bathroom and emptied my stomach. The pit had finally won against my stomach. I nearly collapsed to the floor as I dry heaved. After regaining my footing, I wiped away the foul liquid from my lips while staggering to the sink. I flushed the rancid taste out of my mouth and splashed the cool tap water against my heated face. I looked up and stared blankly at my reflection in the dirty mirror.

             My naturally tanned skin seemed to have lost a lot of its pigment. I can’t even remember the last time that I had ever been this place. My dark brown hair had lost a lot of its volume due to the sprinkle of rain that weight it down. Even my average looking brown eyes seemed a lot duller than usual. I had lost a lot of weight recently, probably because I never feel hungry anymore. My cheeks had lost their chubbiness. I looked older than my actual age of 20. If I were pulled over by a cop, he wouldn’t have believed that the person on my driver’s license was actually me. It was almost as if I were staring at a stranger.

            Pushing away from the sink, I dried my face on the scratchy brown paper towels before walking back out into the brisk Seattle air. The wind’s chill bypassed my layers of clothing and muscle, and went straight to my bones. I headed back to the café at a slow pace, unsure of what I was even doing anymore. A group of guys walked out of said café, releasing a cloud of bacon from within. One of them began smoking while walking past me. The smoke infiltrated my lungs, causing me to feel even queasier. But I held it in. It already seemed as if my sanity was slipping away, I refused to lose total control of my body as well. After a few large gulps of air to clear out my airways, I pulled the door open and walked in.

            The smell of bacon immediately replaced the cigarette smoke in my senses making my stomach decided that food sounded really good. I made to turn to the left, towards the booths, when a busty tattooed waitress cut me off with a tray of food in her hand. She smiled at me prettily before continuing on her way towards her patrons. I followed suit and was hardly surprised at this point that she was actually delivering food to Geoffrey.

            He had ordered our usual. A 12 egg Makin’ Bacon for us to split, along with a Belgian Waffle topped with strawberries and whipped cream for each of us. There was even a steaming mug of hot chocolate placed on my side of the booth. The sight of it all caused my stomach to flutter, though it wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant sensation. I froze in place, unsure of what to do as Geoffrey and the waitress made small talk. My heart began to beat wildly and the butterflies were starting to become overwhelming. The waitress winked at him cheekily before making her retreat. As she walked past, Geoffrey caught sight of me and gave me one of his signature shit eating grins.

            “Adrian! You made it.”

            I tried my best to return the smile but I’m sure it came out weak. Geoffrey’s smile didn’t falter though and he gestured for me to join him. When I passed by the couple whose window I occupied earlier, they shot me dirty looks which made me cringe. At the last minute I saw Geoffrey move to hug me but I kept going as if I hadn’t seen him. Sitting in the booth gave me a weird sense of nostalgia. Ever since Geoffrey had passed away, I refused to ever come hear the café. It held too many memories of us being here: out after party munchies, our late night drop bys, and the few times we actually showed up during a proper time for breakfast. This was our place to go when we needed some bro time. Time for us to vent to each other. Time for use to reminisce. Time for us to unwind and just be us. I never wanted to feel those feelings again without my best friend.

            The last time we had been there was about a week before the car accident. It was about three in the morning and neither of us could sleep so he dropped by and picked me up. Before I knew it, we were at Beth’s in this very booth. He told me that he was changing majors again. He had already changed it four times in the past year but insisted that he was finally settling on becoming an aerospace engineer. When he had dropped me off later that morning, he gave me one of his grins before pulling me into a crushing one armed hug.

            “You should definitely come over tomorrow so we can get some bro bonding in before finals kill us in a couple of weeks.”

            “Sure. Sure.” I rolled my eyes.

            “I’ll call you later then. I love you Adrian. No hetero.” He winked at me with a bright grin plastered on before speeding off back home.

            “Adrian, bro. Snap out of it,” I was pulled back into reality and stared back at Geoffrey’s grin. He cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes staring at me intensely.

            “Sorry…” I mumbled, mostly to myself.

            His grin immediately softened. “What’s wrong?”

            I looked away from his gaze. A lot was wrong. There was already a lot going wrong before life decided to kick me down and take away my best friend. And now here he was, apparently alive and kicking. I looked back up when I felt the familiar weight of his warm hand on my shoulder.

            “Seriously. What’s wrong?”

            “I lost my best friend.”

            Geoffrey’s face immediately tightened into a concerned look, his lips were pulled into a thin line. He was still staring at me but I don’t think he was actually looking at me. But I stared back. He looked conflicted. There was definitely something strange going on but I still felt completely dumbfounded as to what that might me. Finally his eyes refocused on me and he put up a passive face. He was worried. Geoffrey had a horrible poker face.

            “We’ll talk later.” I just nodded, not really caring. I was beginning to believe more and more that all of this was actually just a dream.

            Geoffrey raised his lightly tanned armed towards me, his hand balled into a fist except for his pinky. A small black anchor was tattooed on the inside of his wrist. “I promise.”

            I stared at his outstretched pinky for what seemed like ages. A pinky promise. A pinky promise was one of the few things that we continued to do as teenagers and young adults. And we didn’t play around when it came to a pinky promise. A pinky promise signifised that whatever was being promised was absolute. There was no backing our of it, and neither of us had ever tried. Finally I mirrored him with my arm. Our matching tattoos looking at each other for the first time in forever. I raised my own pinky and linked it with his. He promised.

            He grinned once again as he pulled back his arm, “Alrighty then bro. Let’s eat up.”

 *******

            We ate our food in record speed since we had stayed silent the whole time which was unbearable for both of us. We liked to think that we’re excellent talkers and even better listeners. But I was in no state to be conversing, and even if I was, I wouldn’t know where to begin. And we both knew that Geoffrey had a shit ton of explaining to do later so there was no point in trying now. Geoffrey went on to pull the same stunt as before where he excused himself to the bathroom and paid for the bill. I allowed myself a small moment of nostalgia and punched him on the arm like I would have done before. It felt good to be able to punch him.

            He followed me into my car and I drove in silence. By the time that we had reached Kerry Park, our de facto place to go when it came to serious conversations, an awkward air had permeated throughout the car. It was suffocating.

            “So…”

            Geoffrey undid his seat belt and turned to look at me. “So…”

            I mimicked him and stared back. Unconsciously I reached out and poked his cheek, making sure that he was real. The pad of my finger pressed into his fleshy skin while he watched in silence. I pulled back my hand and looked outside the window towards the Seattle skyline shining brightly in the distance.

            “What are you doing here?”

            “I… Adrian, look at me.” He pulled at my shoulder and forced me to look his way. “I faked my death.”

            I didn’t say anything for awhile. Sometime on the way to the park, Seattle had decided to unleash the torrents of rain that it’s known for. The sound of the pouring rain against the metal of my car drowned out everything else and was getting worse. Geoffrey could’ve continued talking and I would never have noticed. I watched a particularly large drop of water slipping down the front of my windshield. At some indistinguishable area, the large drop suddenly split into two. The two drops continued their fall as if nothing had even happened.

            “Did you hear me?”

            I shuddered from hearing Geoffrey’s voice so near. I had almost forgotten that he was even there. And maybe he wasn’t, but I can only deny that for so long. I turned and faced him. He had moved as close as possible without breaching my bubble in order for me to hear him over the rain, but I wouldn’t put it past him to move even closer if necessary. My nostrils were filled with his personal scent, an odd mix of peppermint and salt water. His eyes were the same as before, starting at me without actually looking. His ocean blue eyes were now a storm of—something. I wasn’t sure. Confusion? Sadness? Love? It scared me how out of touch with him I felt. But then again, he was supposed to be dead.

            “Why?” My quivering voice snapped him out of his daydream. His eyes looked at me with renewed clarity, examining my face for any trace of emotion. I gave him none.

            “I… I just needed to get out of here, to get away from everything. I needed to get out of my cage and be free. You know? Be free to do whatever I wanted. To see the world. And to just—I just needed to start over.” He looked down at his clenched fists.

            “You.” I shook my head slowly. “You needed all of that?”

            “You know I did,” he sighed. “I wasn’t going anywhere in life. You and me both knew that. You know how many times I switched around my plans, how often I fucked up. You’ve seen my grades. We were both surprised that the dean hadn’t booted me out of school. And then all of that stupid debt I had. You were right about so many things with it came to life decisions. I should’ve listened to you. But no. I just had to try everything out just to see what would happen.”

            Geoffrey looked like he was about to bounce in his seat. A soft smile was plasted onto his face, it looked so foreign to me. The butterflies began to return in full force.

            “So I just, you know, killed myself. It wasn’t really that hard, which must say something about our police. I started a new life and everything. I’m now technically ‘Alec Richards.’ And with a blank slate, I’m sure I can accomplish great things. Did you know my name, my real name, means peaceful traveler? That’s kind of what I’ve become. I just travel and it makes me feel a lot more at peace. It’s a lot less hectic than life before.”

            I shook my head again, unwilling to believe that this was real. I was unwilling to believe that Geoffrey, my Geoffrey, could do something so… Something so absolutely stupid!

            “Did you ever think about what I needed?” My eyes turned sharp and I glared at him, weeks of pent up frustration and emotional stress was finally break out.

            “Or what your mom needed? Or your sister? Did you ever once in this stupid place of yours, think about how I would feel without my best friend, my brother? Or your mom without her son? Or Olivia without her older brother?”

            “I—”

            “At any point in that asinine train of thought that lead you to fake your death, did you ever think about anybody other than yourself? You know, like everybody else in your damned life? What the hell were you thinking, that nobody would fucking care that you died? Did you think that I would wake up the next day and be perfectly fine having my best friend gone for the rest of my life? That I would take a shot of tequila while standing over your grave, glad that you were gone?”

            “No…” Geoffrey’s hands began to turn white from how hard he was clenching them. His face was flushed and his ears were pink. Hot tears fell from his eyes as he glared at my windshield. His mouth was pulled into a deep frown.

            “You’re a selfish asshole, you know that?”

            He wiped harshly at his face. Geoffrey hated crying. Years of being his best friend had taught me that. If he could, he would have had his tear ducts removed. He always tried his hardest to never cry since it made him feel weak and pathetic, something conditioned into him by his dad. Geoffrey never even cried when his dad passed away a few years ago. Hell, he never even cried during the opening scene of “Up” while I was bawling like a baby. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state made me want to just instantly forgive him and pull him into the biggest man hug that I could muster.

            “I thought that you would’ve understood that—”

            My glare intensified. “You thought that I would understand how my best friend could abandon everyone who cared about him for his own benefit, leaving everybody else a little dead on the inside?”

            “I—“ I jabbed at his chest with my finger. “—fucking cried for what felt like forever while you went out gallivanting at who knows where doing who knows what. Do you understand how that felt? To lose your best friend? I still fucking cry at night and it’s been a month! And of course your stupid ass couldn’t have picked a much more inopportune time to kill yourself than during the week before finals.” I struggled to keep my composure as I felt tears begin to stream down my face.

            I turned back towards my windshield, unwilling to look at him anymore. During my outburst, our body temperature clashed against the weather and fogged up my windows. “As far as I’m concerned, my best friend died last month during a car crash. He would never have been selfish enough to intentionally hurt me for such a stupid reason.”

            Neither of us said a thing for awhile. The windows cleared once the temperature had dropped inside of the car. The rain pounded against my car, creating a steady rhythm that lulled me to sleep once my tear ducts finally ran dry.

*******

            Hours later I woke up and found myself alone. No Geoffrey. No guy who looked like Geoffrey. No one. I drove home in a haze. My brain was unable to offer a logical conclusion for last night. I was tempted to continue believing that Geoffrey had in fact passed away but that same pit in my gut that kept me queasy throughout the whole affair, kept telling me it wasn’t true. This was one of the few moments in my life where “ignorance is bliss” would have been greatly accepted.

            Once home I took a long hot shower before sluggishly making my way into bed. My oh so comfortable bed that would never lie to me. My brain welcomed the chance to finally hibernate properly and I shifted until I found a comfortable position. Slowly my eyes began to shut, welcoming the darkness. But right before I could fall asleep, my arm twitched and bumped into something unfamiliar. My brain instantly roared on against my wishes and I reached around with my arm before finding the foreign object in my bed. I pulled it out from under my blanket and instantly recognized it. It was Geoffrey’s favorite khaki jacket. His scent flooded my senses again making me want to cry. I missed that him.

*******

            Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, lighting the entire room up. I sat in bed for a moment before reaching towards my phone and shut off the alarm. Day 365 of my life without Geoffrey. I covered my mouth as I yawned passionately. It had been a hard year without him. I tend to shut out the last conversation I had with him, the one after Beth’s. It fucked with the image of Geoffrey that I had built in my head and I’d rather remember him as my best friend than some selfish asshole who didn’t give a shit about me.

            I went throughout my day. It was dead week and I had an econ final. I finished my final faster than expected and walked out of the room on high spirits. The hallway was filled with other students traversing to their classes. I was about to walk out of the building when someone bumped into me. I turned to yell at the guy and found no one there, suddenly my nostrils filled with the scent of peppermint and saltwater. I turned around trying to find the source. The butterflies began to flutter in my stomach. Thinking back, I’m certain that I even saw a flash of honey brown hair.

            When I got home, I found a package waiting for me on the doorstep. My welcome mat hastily placed atop as if that would keep would be burglars from noticing. I struggled to lift the thing and ended up dragging it inside. I opened it and was suddenly assaulted for the second time with the scent of peppermint and saltwater. Removing layers of packaging, I found a small metal anchor painted black, mirroring the tattoo on my wrist. Buried within the packaging I fished out a postcard with a photo of a beach that matched Geoffrey’s eyes.

Adrian,

I found this and instantly thought of you since you know. You’re my anchor and shit. Thanks for getting my mom that Mother’s Day gift, you’re the best. But I don’t expect any less from my besty. Don’t think you can wiggle your way out of our friendship too, we pinky promised that shit remember? I love you and miss you.

-The Peaceful Traveler

PS: It’s Geoffrey, I mean Alec Richards, in case you didn’t know.

I chuckled as I finished reading the large sloppy handwriting in the blue ink on the back of the postcard. I dragged the anchor into my room and propped it up against the corner, deciding that I’d find a home for it later. The postcard went into a small wooden box on my bookshelf, filled with the other 11 postcards I’ve gotten in the past year. Next to it sat a photo of Geoffrey and I when we we’re children. My mom had gotten a photo of us mid pinky promise that we’d run away together if one of us ended up pregnant. Same blue eyes. And the same shit eating grin.

No prompt for this one, we just had to write a full length short story as our final. I’m not really sure where this one came from seeing as I was originally going to write about a soldier back in civilian life having to deal with PTSD.

I ended up actually writing two endings for this since I wasn’t really sure how to end it and neither did my group members. But because my friend joked that I should just make them gay and make out, or something, that’s what the 2nd ending ended up being. They kissed while in the car and then I had no idea where to go from there since it started to sound too fanfictiony for me so I scrapped that one and came up with this ending instead. I definitely prefer this one more.

Funnily enough, I almost posted that version of the story until the last minute where I looked up as I wrote this note and thought “Kissed, when the hell do they kiss? Yeah.

Same love.

            Victoria Delaney was in the middle of dusting the floorboards when she thought up a brilliant plan of revenge against her boss. It’s not that she hated her boss, oh no, Harry “Pen Island” Witt the owner of Pen Island Co. was a kind and jolly man. But Victoria was unhappy with her lack of a promotion. She had envisioned herself running up the company ladders, but instead she was stuck at the third rung from the bottom. It reached the point that when her boss had asked his employees whether any of them would be willing to house sit for him, Victoria jumped at the chance to hopefully gain a few brownie points.

            Her dreams counted on her becoming the very best that she could be as quickly as possible. She wanted that promotion, no, she needed that promotion. But it seemed that she wouldn’t be receiving one anytime soon. Though if her plan was a success, then she’d at the very least walk away with some sense of satisfaction. The thought of doing something so unlike her caused a shiver to run up her spine. She squirmed from the tingling sensation. This was her moment, it was her time to become a rebel and fight against the man.

            Victoria walked sneakily along the hallway, moving slowly so that her footsteps wouldn’t make a sound. Though her matching cushioned Hello Kitty slippers pretty much guaranteed her footsteps would be silent. At intersections she’d press herself against the wall before peering around the corner to check that the coast was clear. At one point she nearly toppled over a vase from the Ming Dynasty but her quick reflexes allowed her to grab it with ease and place it back onto its marble pedestal. Why rich people placed such expensive artifacts within their homes, she’d never know.

            Of course all of this sneaky business was for naught since no one was home. Her boss and his wife had left on a cruise to the Mediterranean. And the only person currently allowed on the property was Victoria herself, well as far as she knew. But regardless of the circumstances, Victoria was just not an adventurous person. Just coming up with the idea of such a lewd and petty moment of revenge was making her heart beat wildly within her chest. The ten feet that she had covered had caused her heart palpitations, to the point where she was certain they were beating along to a dubstep song.

            After half an hour of traversing what normally would have taken a couple of minutes, Victoria had reached the foyer. The ceilings were up high into the nosebleed section and the tall windows allowed for an optimum amount of light to bathe the area. The white travertine floors made her pink fuzzy flippers look even brighter than normal. Several tables adorned with a multitude of eccentric knick knacks and picture frames lined the wall. A series of potted plants were placed around the foyer, giving it an exotic feeling. The plants varied in size and shape. Many had leaves and flowers that hung over the edges of their containers. The room smelled like vanilla though it was hard to tell whether it was natural or artificial. Victoria found what she had been looking for. She made her way towards one of the potted plants and assumed the position.

            To say that the next minute and a half was the most embarrassing moment of her life was definitely an understatement. There Victoria was with her Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and lavender panties pulled down to her ankles, squatted over a large ornate terracotta pot housing begonias. She had just begun to pee onto the large white and pink flowers when someone walked in through the front door. Victoria hadn’t noticed the locks being turned and was actually sighing in content from easing the pressure on her bladder. But as the heavy fir door groaned shut, she quickly looked up to find a familiar looking man staring at her wide-eyed. The two gaped at one another in a moment of shock, Victoria with an added hint of humiliation.

            “Who the hell are you?” Victoria shouted while quickly forcing her bodily fluids from flowing.

            “What in the world were you doing?” The man shouted, though he looked more confused than angry.

            “I don’t have to answer you. You strange man!”

            Before the man had a chance to reply, Victoria had begun to shout. “You’re a stranger! Stranger danger! Stranger danger! Stranger danger!”

            While simultaneously trying to get off of the pot, pull her clothes on, and keep an eye on the strange man, Victoria had failed to pay attention to her actions. With her clothes raised up to mid-thigh, she tried to hop off of the pot while keeping direct eye contact with the man. This of course caused Victoria to trip over herself and fell onto the floor. She lied sprawled out, groaning from her sudden floor hug. One of her slippers had flown off and landed on top of an earthenware plate. Her dark brown hair was all over the place and she was fairly certain that she might’ve slapped herself as she fell. Her cute bum was openly displayed to the strange man, proving how natural her tanned skin really was.

            “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” Victoria groaned to herself, though the man was certain that she did not in fact want his help.

            After spending a few moments to recollect herself, Victoria adjusted her clothes in order to properly hide her body before standing up. She stood stiffly crossed her arms. She sent as much venom as possible through her flaring dark brown eyes but found a hint of a blush gracing the man’s pale face.

            “Look buddy, I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. But you have one minute to get the hell out of here before I call the cops.”

            Victoria tapped her foot impatiently before realizing that she had lost her slipper. She took the moment to examine the intruder. There was definitely something about him that seemed familiar. He seemed close to her age but she wasn’t the best judge of age. And he seemed to tower over her by at least a foot though Victoria was certain that most of it was because of his shoes. His medium brown hair was cut short and was cleanly shaven. He was pale but it didn’t detract from his attractiveness, if you were into that sort of thing.

            The man had folded the sleeves up on his blue button up, which showed off forearms nicely. His narrow waist and broad shoulders were certainly appealing. But the most tantalizing feature of his was definitely his eyes. They were the exact color of Victoria’s favorite way to have her coffee: a cup of Kona coffee brewed from freshly ground beans with a teaspoon of Truvia sugar substitute and two teaspoons of International Delight’s White Chocolate Mocha coffee creamer.

Those eyes entranced Victoria before she shook herself out of it. She needed that promotion, and allowing herself to be distracted while a strange man entered her boss’s house would definitely not aid her cause. She frowned when the man made no move to leave. Instead, a small mischievous smile appeared on his face. The man promptly began to walk out of the foyer as if he had never even heard her. Victoria released a sound of indignation before trailing him.

            “Did you not hear me? Get the fuck out of here.”

            The man chuckled and turned around. He looked Victoria up and down, examining her. His roving eyes caused a shiver to run down Victoria’s spine.

            “Actually ma’am. Maybe you should ‘get the fuck out of here’ before I call the cops on you.” He used air quotes while speaking before chuckling softly.

            “Excuse me?” Victoria crossed her arms and began to tap her foot once more. She glared at him while he merely looked on with a bored expression. Different expression but the same damned smile.

            “You heard me. Imagine how the police will react when I tell them about a woman breaking into this fine home, and peeing into one of the potted plants.” Victoria fought against her bodily reaction but a blush forced its way onto her cheeks. Getting arrested for peeing on a plant would definitely be the most humiliating way to get locked up.

            “Shut up. You don’t know anything. And imagine how they react when I tell them when you broke in here and were threatening me!”

            “You don’t even live here.”

            “Neither do you!” Victoria felt exasperated. Who in the world was this guy?

            “I will neither confirm nor deny that.” He gave her a curt nod before turning around and continuing through the house.

            “Hey get your ass back here. I was talking to you, you asshole.” She stomped hard onto the floor with her barefoot causing a slap to echo down the hall. He merely waved behind himself lazily. Glaring down the hall she wondered if her boss would give her a promotion for stabbing a thief that broke into his home. Deciding that having to pay to remove all the blood stains weren’t worth it before following stalking toward the man. Victoria found the man in the kitchen, drinking a cup of guava juice. He rested his back against the center island, facing her. He gave Victoria a small smile as she neared.

“Do you want some juice? Just make sure that when you need to tinkle, you don’t go on the passion flowers inside of the sunroom.” His smile widened and Victoria felt her cheeks warm once again.

“Shut up.” Victoria flipped her hair behind herself and walked up to the man. He watched her with fascination though in a much more thoughtful fashion.

“You.” She poked the man hard on the chest to emphasize her point. “Need to get the hell out of here, right at this very instant.” He tilted his head with that smile ever present.

“Actually, you should probably get out before—” The man was interrupted by the sound of an annoying pop song about calling someone maybe playing from Victoria’s pocket. She fished her phone out and immediately answered it.

“Hello?!” She watched the man, making sure that he didn’t make any sudden moves. He may not have looked like a hobo or a thug but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

“Hey Icky Vicky. Still mad that Loose Lips Lorraine got the job?”

“Caitlin!” Victoria screeched, glad that someone may be able to help her.

“Now I know that girl’s legs are like that Taylor Swift song. They’re never ever ever getting back together. But I don’t know if that’s why she got the promotion. Harry ‘Pen Island’ Witt is getting a bit too old to hop on that band wagon, if you know what I mean. And isn’t it strange how the Witts always introduce themselves with their company name in there? It’s funny since everyone tends to just always add it now.” Caitlin continued on as if she hadn’t heard Victoria, and she probably didn’t.

“Caitlin, there’s a strange—”

“Though I definitely think you should’ve gotten that promo. The fact that your slogan of ‘Your pen is our business’ ended up on penisland.net is a good indicator that you’re the shit. You know, if you were a dude, you’d probably just sleep with the old man’s wife to get revenge. But hey, you still can if you wanted to. It’s a free country.” Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose. This was frustrating.

“Caitlin, shut up.” The man had lost interest pretty quickly and was currently making himself a sandwhich.

“Maybe you should just get a new job. Pen Island is good and all. But custom pens are boring, I heard Pane in the Glass was hiring.” The man had finished his drink awhile ago and to Victoria’s surprise, he even washed the cup. He was now sitting at one of the stools watching her curiously, his head cocked to one side and an eyebrow raised. Victoria opened the nearest drawer and placed her phone inside since it was obvious that her friend would not be any help. But before shutting the drawer, she found a pink bejeweled taser inside that most likely belonged to Mrs. Witt. Victoria grabbed it and hid it in her pocket before shutting the drawer. You could still hear Caitlin prattling on through the material.

“Now that that’s over with, you should probably leave. It isn’t polite to welcome yourself into somebody else’s home.” The man turned and looked at her seriously.

“You should listen to your own damn advice.” Victoria spat, not batting an eyelash.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Do you know who I am?” She spoke with strength while placing her hands onto her hips, the Wonder Woman pose. She sent a threatening glare his way.

The strange man scoffed before he stood and returned her glare with a smirk. “Yes. I do.”

That caught Victoria off guard. “You do?” She scrunched her face in confusion. How could this man know her? Maybe he really was dangerous. If he knew her, then maybe he’d been stalking her, watching her through the windows, peaking between the open blinds. She broke out in a cold sweat, her eyes widened. Her heart began to thump loudly as he made his way towards her. He loomed over her by at least a good foot.

A blush made its way over her cheeks again as he leaned in close. She could feel his warm breath against her neck. “You’re the woman—” Victoria shivered as he whispered into her ear. “—who is about to get arrested for breaking and entering. And for urinating on potted flora.”

“What?” Victoria screeched and stood a few steps back. Her heart was beating wildly. She sent another glare at the stupid man who was playing games with her. Another smirk was present on his face. Without giving it another thought, she dived for the phone sitting in its cradle atop a side table.

“No you don’t!” The man dashed toward the phone as well.

Time seemed to slow down for Victoria as the stranger and her ran for the old analogue device. Her heartbeat sped up as she pushed herself to grab the phone first. But luck wasn’t on her side and she watched in horror as the man grabbed the phone. He had already dialed 911 and was waiting for the call to be picked up when Victoria went and tackled him. The landing wasn’t bad other than the hard body underneath her, though Victoria was sure that her landing was much softer than his.

The man began to shift and grabbed Victoria’s arm. She squirmed in an attempt to be released. Suddenly remembering the taser, she pulled the object out of her pocket as quickly as possible. Ensuring that she was holding it correctly, she pressed it against the man’s side and activated it. The man cried out in pain as 50,000 volts were unleashed into his body. He immediately loosened his grip and Victoria dashed away from him. She scrambled onto her feet and grabbed the phone. After quickly dialing the phone, she placed the phone to her hear and awaiting the voice of the dispatcher. Her heart was pounding from the adrenaline rush and she had to hold herself up against the table in order to support her.

The man groaned from his position but eventually sat up against the wall. He cradled his size as if he was afraid that Victoria might tase him there once again. His breathing was shallow but otherwise seemed to be in good condition, great condition even. He watched on with interest but didn’t seem afraid of what might befall him. Minutes passed and no one answered her call. Come to think of it, Victoria realized, there wasn’t even a dial tone. She pulled the phone away from her face and examined it. It looked like it was in working order.

“What the hell is wrong with this thing?” Victoria began to smack the device with her open palm hoping it’d fix it.

“Oh, that’s right.” The man interrupted her. “My parents had that thing disconnected ages ago when they redid the place. They kept it up for decoration.”

“Wait, your parents?” Victoria was drained and not in the mood for the man’s crazy talk. She felt like she needed a nice hot long bath with one of the bath bombs she bought recently.

The man steadily stood up and shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not really sure why they would keep it. It seems ridiculous but hey, it’s their house.”

Parents? If his parents were the ones who kept the phone while remodeling the house and the house was built by the Witts. Then that meant… Victoria had never face palmed so quickly.

“Harry ‘Pen Island’ Witt and Anita ‘Pen Island’ Witt are your parents?”

The man nodded before he walked up to her and stuck his hand out. “I’m Adam Witt. I guess my official title should be Adam ‘Pen Island’ Witt, but that’s such a mouthful.”

Victoria eyed his veiny hand before shaking it. “Hi, I’m Victoria Delaney, I work for your dad.”

She stared at him before realization crept over her. “Or rather, I worked for your dad.” Her mouth fell open and her eyes were wide open. She had tased him. She had just fucking tased her boss’s son inside of her boss’s home with her boss’s wife’s taser. “Oh my god. I am so fired. So fucking fired.”

Victoria fell to the floor in disbelief before pulling at her hair. Tears began to spill from her eyes onto her cheeks. She furiously wiped them away and hoped that they’d stop so she wouldn’t appear to be so weak in front of Adam. She couldn’t lose this job. She needed it more than anything. It had become a part of her identity. When she was with her friends they called her the “Pen Island Girl.” And she’d grown accustomed to her workplace and all the great coworkers. And now because of her stupidity, she was going to lose it all.

Adam dropped down next to her and placed a comforting hand onto her should. “Hey, what’s with the sudden departure to Gloomsville?”

Victoria would have laughed in the situation since she was certain that her boss would have said something similar. Instead she turned towards Adam with her tear streaked face and collapsed into his arms. He held on and pulled her into a hug. She had to admit that this was not her finest moment as she began to speak gibberish into Adam’s shoulder.

Her eyes felt heavy from the physically and emotionally taxing day she just had. That coupled with trying to accept that she would be losing her job soon made it even more exhausting. She snuggled into Adam’s shoulder though she knew he’d be her eventual downfall. But at least for this one moment, she wanted to be held. Hell, she’d definitely not be sleeping with her boss’s wife anytime soon. And though there was no point in petty revenge, maybe her boss’s son could at least be a consolation prize.

We were given a list of prompts and had to chose one to write a full short story about. Mine was something alone the lines of “A women plans revenge against her boss after passing her for a promotion once again.”

PS: If you read Pen Island wrong, don’t feel bad. I won’t judge you, plus that was the whole point. You pervert. ;) Oh and Pen Island is a legit company.

Aunt Julie lifted her dainty manicured hand and smacked her husband playfully on the head. She then turned toward the counter nearest the fridge and grabbed her gaudy purple purse. A throng of key chains attached to the monstrosity of a bag jingled with every step she took.

 “Well the groceries aren’t going to buy themselves.” She paused in thought. “Well at least not until Google invents something to shop for me. I can’t wait.” She stared off in the distance dreamily before remembering what she was about to do.

I watched Uncle Andrew roll his eyes, making me chuckle. Aunty Julie never noticed though and was about to step out the backdoor when she turned to look at me with a serious look. I lifted an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I just remembered, your mom told me about your coming out.” With two short strides she was beside me and engulfed me in a hug.

“We’re perfectly fine with who you are and love you regardless! But I’ve got to go. We’ll talk about this later.” And just like that, she was gone.

I chuckled once more. I would never expect less of a response from her. She was a bit absentminded but always enthusiastically loving. Uncle Andrew sighed.

“I’ve never understood how her thought process works. It’s as if every morning when she wakes up, her thoughts are just thrown in at random” It was Uncle Andrew’s turn to grin. “But what can I say, she’s just as crazy as when I first met her.”

I laughed at that.

“By the way, how’s Marilyn?” Uncle Andrew asked suddenly, referring to the Mustang GT that he helped me fix up a couple of months ago.

“She’s running great! I haven’t had any problems with her so far. Thanks again, for helping me. Dad had no clue how to help me, he’s way more into computers than cars.”

 “It’s no problem at all.” Uncle Andrew walked up and ruffled my hair like I was a kid. I cringed as that thought flitted through my mind.

“Speaking of your dad, how’d he react when you came out?” Uncle Andrew began to pour himself a cup of orange juice and motioned in a familiar way that asked if I wanted any. I shook my head.

“My dad was alright. He told me that he loved me and then joked about how it was all my mom’s fault since apparently the gay gene is passed down from mother to son.”

Uncle Andrew’s cheeks jiggled from his laughter. “Well that’s good. It’s not exactly the type of reaction that I would have expected, but at least it was a positive one.”

 “Uncle Andrew?” I could feel my legs shaking. I hoped they didn’t bang against the counters.

“Hmmm?” He turned and looked at me expectantly. His piercing brown eyes roved over me, making me uncomfortable. “What is it?”

I looked down at my hands resting against the countertop. My pale skin contrasted against the nearly black granite. What is it that I wanted to say? No, I knew exactly what I wanted to say. But should I say it? I glanced at him again, hoping that I was giving him a blank look. He stared at me with interest. A chill ran down my spine.

I felt conflicted. On one side, Uncle Andrew was practically a second father to me. He’s known me since I was a child and watched over me. He’s changed my diapers and fed me. He’s looked out for me as if I were his own son. He cared for me. He was a good father and husband. I respected him, but at the same time I hated him. He’s an asshole who took things without thinking of the impact it would have. He’s the scum that my mom taught me to never interact with. He gave me a look of concern.

“I…” I faltered before regaining my nerve. “I don’t think it’s my mom’s fault.”

“Of course it’s not your mother’s fault. It would be ridiculous to actually think that Julie was the one who made you the way that you are. I’m certain that there’s enough evidence in the world that you’re simply born that way.

I shook my head slowly. “No. I’m not sure I was born this way either.”

“I don’t understand.” He looked even more concerned. But was the concern for me, or for himself?

“I think I’m the way that I am…” I trailed off, unsure if I really wanted to continue. But this was my only chance wasn’t it? “I think I’m the way that I am because my first sexual experience was with a man.”

 “What?” His mouth was agape in shock from just how private and personal the information was. His eyes were widened.

“What do you mean?” He took a large lungful of air.

“I think you know what I mean…”

“No. I’m fairly certain that I don’t know what you mean.”

Uncle Andrew looked like he was losing his composure. His usually calm façade had dropped. His brown eyes had lost their sheen and looked wild, like an animal that was tangled within a trap.

 “I had my first sexual experience at the age of five. And I’m fairly certain that you do know what I mean since you were there.”

He didn’t reply, instead I was met with silence. I felt the adrenaline traveling throughout my veins, causing my heart to beat violently. I held my breath, wondering what he would say. He’d say that he was sorry, I was sure of it.

“No, I think that I have found the solution to our misunderstanding. You’ve most likely created a false memory, most likely from a traumatic event in your childhood. You say that you were five when this allegedly happened, but how could you possibly remember anything from that age?” He looked angry, as if I had the audacity to accuse him of something that couldn’t have happened. He gave me a tight smile. I’m sure it was meant to look reassuring but it just seemed like he was smug at having come up with such a bullshit explanation so quickly. Traumatic event. Of course there was a fucking traumatic event.

 “Maybe I did make up a memory—”

“Yes, I’m sure you did,” he cut me off. I glared at him.

“A memory of you watching me while Aunt Julie took Lilith to the doctor. And then you taking my clothes off and asking me if I wanted to take a shower with you. You told me it was normal for guys to take showers together.” I watched as his smile dropped and the blood drained from his face. I reveled in it. It gave me the balls to continue.

“And maybe I also made up the memory of you watching me again when I was seven and you asked me whether I had seen my dad’s dick before showing me yours. If I remember, you also told me to ‘keep your mouth as wide as possible and make sure not to use your teeth. But use your tongue like you’re licking a lollipop.’”

Uncle Andrew looked borderline insane. His eyes were bulging from his skull. Sweat began to bead from his forehead. He pulled at his thinning grey touched brown hair before shrieking in horror, now that his perfect little secret wasn’t much of a secret anymore. He began to pound the countertop out of frustration. He looked and acted immature and annoying. But what pissed me off the most was that he didn’t look sorry at all. His eyes were frantic not apologetic. He didn’t look my Uncle Andrew full of remorse. He looked like an alien man who was angry at the world for letting his sun out into the sun.

 “Are you going to tell anyone?” He asked quietly, anger laced in his voice. His eyes were hard and he glared at me. His wild appearance looked even more crazed. It was as if he was descending deeper into a pit of hate and illogical thought.

 “Well?” He shouted, his voice scratching my eardrum.

“I don’t know.”

2nd prompt was to write a single scene in the middle of a story. Literally just that scene without any introductions or conclusions. The point of it was to see how well you could draw readers into your story; if after reading your scene, do they wish it were a full story?

Based off of this post on Reddit.