Starting Rule: For this month’s Fractured Fiction, everyone was told to write one sentence then fold their page down before passing it to the next; how we normally do it. The twist for this month was that, since we met in a coffeehouse this time, everyone had to write about a “beverage” (drinking, making, somehow involving) in their first sentence.

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Fiction One

She gulped orange juice from its jug as Tony hovered over the stove scrambling eggs. My clumsy self just reared its ugly head as I am now one with my beverage, covered with drink and shame. Historically he knew that this was a mirror, he decided it would be best to avoid suspicion. For her sake he didn’t yell, though the urge to do so was almost overwhelming. The empty boat bumped against the wharf, turned a lazy circle and drifted away with the current.

Fiction Two

Miriam sat in the cool shade of the curve of the stairwell, sipping from a frosted highball glass that smoked slightly as she tilted it. A fierce wind scattered the pages of his sketchbook among the rose bushes. I am certain there is more to life than this blasted town and endless display of inadequacy. A deluge of impairment washed over her, momentarily and briefly she dodged a mental urge to run screaming. It had been a good day, despite everything, and he looked forward to what would come next.

Fiction Three

He sipped at his coffee, its bitter taste barely registering, as he stared out the window at the oncoming storm. All five children jumped into the pool at the same time, sending a wave of water washing under the cocktail tables. The roar of the waterfall growled in her ears while she desperately held her breath under water. Drawing from the moment, I decided it is beast to ignore those nearby and endure the quest at hand. Without delay, there were too many reasons for her not to finish there, and move down to the next place.

ModNote: This one seemed to have a general theme, water, which was interesting since none of our conversations during the meeting had led to it and there was no visible outside influence (like rain) to inspire it.

Fiction Four

Stewart sat upon the stool, the barley malt fogging his thoughts of worry. It was too cold, but he didn’t seem to care, his mind was elsewhere. The big, black dog lunged against the fence, fangs bared, his booming barks echoing off the walls. After cheerfully locking the door, he held up the silver key like a trophy before tossing it out the two-story’s window. How could life take such an interesting twist, yet bring me closer than ever to clarity.

Fiction Five

The sun begins to kiss the sky with its welcomed “good morning; my soul is lifted and my thirst is quenched as I sip on a cup of hot organic tea and enjoy this intimate rising. There were no words, she thought. Shaking her head, she stood from the table to follow her first instinct.
     ”It’s nothing serious,” he looked down at the floor to hide the disappointment in his eyes, “just a casual get-together.”
Sunlight winked across the mirrored lenses of the man’s glasses, blinding her. After a near devastating winter, the blueberries emerged victorious with their plump and sweet goodness.

ModNote: Reading this one during the meeting was funny. Story, story, story, blueberries…(tangent) SQUIRREL! hehe

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Participants (not in order): Smokie West, Laurel Mathis, Val M. Selvaggio, Karen Dillon, Ysa and Ana Maria Seaton.

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