The voting has been ended for the topic “Fiction” and I am glad to announce that the story “Tears” written by Dave has got maximum votes.
Here is his short bio:
When I’m not sitting at a computer earning a living, I’m usually sitting at a computer either writing or blogging (both reading/writing). What do I write? Mostly horror/dark fiction with a couple of forays into, of all things, small pieces of fiction centering around romance/love. Seems odd considering my usual subject matter, but to be honest, those pieces have been some of the most satisfying to write. I’m not sure what that means. Perhaps I need to venture into horror/romance novels. Is that a genre already?
I dedicate this blog to my dad, who passed away recently.
Me and my dad.
I’d always hoped to be published while he was still around so we could share in the accomplishment. I know he would’ve been proud of his youngest son’s achievement. Unfortunately, that dream of mine did not come true, so now my dream is to simply be published someday. It will have to be enough just to know how happy it would have made him. You see, he fancied himself something of a writer, and he wrote many wonderful short stories and began several wonderful books. He was a natural talent and a gifted storyteller; he just ran out of time.
I doubt that anything I write will ever match his storytelling ability, but knowing that every word I write is, in a sense, inspired by him, is something very special to me.
Love you, dad. Hope you enjoy the stories.
Here is one of the post from his blog:
It was love at first sight when Ross saw her. It took forty years, and the most gorgeous blue eyes he’d ever seen, for it to happen. She was all he could think of as he took in her beauty from across the punch bowl table. Adorned in bright yellow, her full-length, one shoulder chiffon dress enchanted him. He found himself smiling; she smiled back, and he felt warm deep inside. It seemed right.
The sound of his name pierced his ears like a pin prick. Gloria stomped up next to him and perched herself at his side. He winced, as much from hearing his name thrown like a dart as at the rude interruption to wonderful visions of the rest of his life just a few feet away from where he stood.
“Let’s go,” she demanded. “I’ve got a headache and I want to go home and get into bed.”
Ross’ eyes thinned as he pondered simply ignoring his wife for just a moment longer. He looked at Gloria, who stared back at him, her brow furrowed and lips pursed tightly. It was, Ross thought, his lot in life to be the recipient of her perpetual state of irritation.
“Now,” she threw at him, then turned and headed toward the ballroom door exit. He watched her stalk across the floor beneath shimmering, colorful Christmas lights, cutting her way through the employees and spouses gathered for the annual holiday party.
Afraid of what he might find, that the woman in yellow just might have disappeared from his life, he looked once again across the table.
She was gone.
“Hi,” came a sweet voice to his left. Ross turned and fell in love again. Though he’d not thought it possible, she was even prettier up close. She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes sparkling from the lights above where he’d been standing for the last five minutes.
“Merry Christmas,” she offered, after waiting for a response which never came. Ross simply looked at her, overcome by how lovely she was. When she smiled, his heart skipped.
My name’s Ross. And by the way, I love you.
Words stumbled from his lips. “Uh, Merry Christmas.” He looked down at the floor for a moment, wondering what he should say next.
“My name’s Grace,” she said as she offered her hand to him. As she spoke, Ross looked up and saw her hand waiting for his touch. His stomach dropped amid the nausea of the newly infatuated. As his eyes connected with hers once again, he finally spoke.
“My name’s Ross. And …” He paused, uncertain that he should continue. When his hand touched hers, his heart melted.
It was crazy, he thought. I can’t just say something like that. In only a matter of seconds, though, he convinced himself that he could, and that he should.
But before Ross could utter another word, a dark man with an angry face stepped up and grabbed Grace by the elbow. She winced at his touch. The man glared at Ross for a moment, then turned and pulled Grace away, leading her along behind him like a small child. Her eyes pled for Ross to reach for her, to rescue her, to save her. It was then he noticed the ring on her left hand.
Though he knew it had all been wrong, his heart broke.
She was gone.
He turned to leave and wished for a gentle tug on his arm, but it never came.
He left. And he wept for the loss of a love he never knew.