***

The sun set and taken the rest of the pint and a third of a gallon with it, but the pain remains.

They say to have loved and lost is better than never to have loved at all. They are full of shit. From the moment I saw Shawna on that cold table at the morgue, my heart has had an ever growing hole that burns with pain. A pain that was instantly greater than any joy I have ever felt; even greater than the contentment I found in Shawna’s arms.

The bourbon has no flavor as it slides into my essence. The wallop the liquor packs is wearing kid’s gloves these days. But the edges are dulled, that is better than being totally aware of the pain.

That picture of her is my favorite. Man, she was beautiful. Those Barbie Doll eyes and that hourglass figure were only the icing on the cake of her compassion for our love. She once told me that she would die for me.

“Damn you, Shawna,” the plastic tumbler crashed against the edge of the picture frame that hung across from the couch, splashing the remainder of the bourbon onto the wall and knocking the frame crooked..

“Damn you. You did die for me. You didn’t have to be out buying a birthday gift. Damn you.”

This sobbing and crying has to stop. This isn’t who I am. This is what love has turned me into. Love has fucked me up. Clouded my judgment. Slowed me down. Every thought is permeated by the wonders I can no longer enjoy.

More bourbon; that’s what I need. She has to go away. No more Shawna, no more remembering how so fucking good love was. I would rather be empty and incomplete than feel this pain…

…What?!!? I must have blacked out. What’s that noise? Snarling and growling coming from over by the front door.

Jesus! It’s the beast, the same hound that Denny and the Bentley chick talked about. Its massive dark bulk, heart shaped patch of red hair, and deep glowing yellow eyes proving that those two weren’t crazy.

Wait. Who just stepped in beside the beast? Is that….

“Shawna!”

Fuck, the beast is coiling to spring at me…

***

Joanna snaked in and out of the urgently moving medical personnel until she found Denny and Nora standing just outside the room she was told Jack was in.

Gently gripping Nora’s arm, Joanna asked the two how Jack was.

“The doc said that Jack lost a lot of blood from a nasty broken bourbon bottle inflicted wound. He might have died hadn’t I gotten there sooner, “ Denny looked tired and worried, but continued with that professionally even voice he reserved for times of crisis,” He also says that Jack is going to need a lot more than Mercy can give him.”

Joanne tightened her grip on Nora’s arm, worriedly looked up and asked Denny,” What do you mean? The hospital can’t help Jack?”

“Jack is going to need some intense detox work. The alcohol would have killed him if tonight’s blood letting didn’t.”

Nora stepped up, “The important thing is that he is going to survive. We need to help make sure he keeps surviving.”

“He hasn’t been the same since Shawna’s death. Unless we can get him to see how lucky he was to have even been part of her short life, he will never be the same,” a single tear rolled lazily down Denny’s cheek, “especially if he can’t quit drinkin’.”

“We knew he was drinking heavily, but didn’t know just how heavy until Denny went over to Jack’s place Monday afternoon,” Nora trying to remain calm as she tried to give some explanation to Joanna.

“I could tell,” Joanna stoically stated, “Those  horrid breath mints weren’t bad enough to hide the bourbon.”

“Me of all people shoulda talked to him months ago,” through more tears, Denny continued, “Why it took him goin’ off the grid after the Bentley chick confessed that she did indeed off her boyfriend before I showed concern is a mystery.”

Joanna knew just how much the Bentley case sucked Jack in. There wasn’t much that got passed her eyes and ears at the station, “Yes, Jack believed that girl’s story right up until the confession.”

Just then a doctor slid out of Jack’s room and told the group they could visit with Denny for a few minutes,” …but I have to caution you. Because of his mental state, he is rambling on. He really needs a lot of rest and a long period of reintroduction to reality.”

The three of them thanked the doctor and moved into the room. Jack’s eyes grew wild and he began to shake,” Denny! Nora! Joanne!”

The women each took a side of the bed and held one of Jack’s hands as Denny stepped up,” Jack you old sunavabitch, we almost lost your sorry ass…”

Jack’s hands were gripping the edge of the bed sheet.

“Did you see it?”

“Jack?”

“The Hound. Blazing eyes, heart shaped patch of deep red hair on its chest.”

He’s crazy like the doctor said, “No jack, I didn’t. No time, you hurt yourself pretty bad.”

Jack replied with fear, “No. Not me. The beast.”

What started out looking like a horror story ended up as your run of the mill dark drama about one man’s inability to cope with a lost love.

Rather sad actually.

In all honesty, we hadn’t worked out where the story was going until two weeks ago, and that has what kept my blood churning for this piece. True seat of the pants, let your pen be your guide writing is the best experience for me.

Maybe that’s why I love micro-fiction; I get a spark and I write until I am done with it.

At any rate, I hope you all enjoyed this story. I might try to get it published somewhere. Any suggestions? What genré do you this story fits best?

Enjoy!

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© 2010, Alex Crabtree. All rights reserved.

Years ago I started writing Flash Fiction for just the sheer enjoyment of writing, and now it has turned into a full blown addiction. I can't quit the horse, man! Another dirty little secret about me is my ability to write all kinds of web content. SEO content, articles, blog posts, manifests; you name it, I'll write it. Looking for some help? My gun hangs at r.alex.crabtree@gmail.com

Alex Crabtree

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Tags: 55 word fiction, Building A Short Story, Fiction, flash, micro fiction, Series, Writing

This entry was posted on July 9, 2010 at 9:25 am and is filed under Building A Short Story, Featured, Series, Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.