The Whorl Around Her Heart (homophone flash fiction)

Sometimes fate can predict an uplifting fête in sync with your life. Other times you just sink; just like swanky jeans that contradict your parent’s genes.  However, remembering that no amount of loot can replace a lute melody, ‘Prophet’ Fred looked around the café and thought how monetary profit was secondary to life.  His favorite saying is “You can aweigh your work anchor, but never really be away from responsibility.”  Thus, the sight of Jane walking into packed café, suddenly reminded him that he had made a pact to help her find her bracelet; or be ‘fined’!

“Hi Jane,” said Fred, “I’ve looked high and low.”

“Lo and behold,” responded Jane, “it’s mister ‘wile’.  I bet that rheum under your eyes is from searching the room while I was gone.”  She sat next to Fred and asked him if his wave of smiles excused his waive of assistance.

“Jane, you may have given me a thank you for giving you a tour of the tor of St. Luke Mountain; but your comment just tore my heart.”

“Oh Fred; such purl to sway the pearl of my heart.”

After they had a coffee, Fred reminded Jane that you may press emotions like paper through a calender, but each day they were together was a day in the calendar of love.
Fred’s words resolved the pique before it could peak, and he said that they should peek around the café one more time; then go to her house to see if her pet peke had eaten it.
Jane replied to the whorl around her heart that they should give it a whirl.

As they were just about to go through the door, the café manager stopped them.  “Are you looking for this,” as he held out the bracelet, “one of our staff found it.”

As Jane took the bracelet, Fred knew this had been a close call, as he had almost failed her cloze test in their conversation.

(The Whorl Around Her Heart, is fiction, © Steven S. Walsky, November 2017.)


age is a paradox

At 14 years of age, he stood in front of his house waiting for a ride to a club meeting. In addition to the two children of the parent driving, there would be a girl that lived near them. At 16 he knew that every teenage heart throb movie and every love lost song was written about her. Even if he had the courage to ask her out, she lived on the other side of the city. At 18 he saw her for the last time; they were at the same event, and she agreed to sit next to him for a while. Like that day four years prior, he vividly remembers sitting next to her; but not the words they spoke. However, the word ‘love’ never became associated with her presence or memory. Desire for her presence, yes…not ‘I love you.’

In the years that followed the last time he saw her, he would meet girls that he would date, and eventually three that he would fall in love over; one he would marry. Then one day, at age 65, he was pondering why the three women he truly felt the emotion of love for were each physically different and had different personalities. It was then that he realized they had one thing in common, her smile. Strange he thought, why hadn’t he used the term ‘I love her’? The answer he believes is that she was shy and timid around him, and he respected her emotional privacy.

Age is a paradox
it refocuses your eyes
if but only on the memories you hide

Love is a puzzle
it clouds what one feels, sees, and hears
only to be focused by the years

And when you see clearly
when you grasp that which was missed
you think back
and you truly miss a first kiss
(age is a paradox © Steven S. Walsky, September 29, 2017)

A Real Life Raisonneur (325 odd word story, repost)

                             A Real Life Raisonneur (325 odd word story)
Resting on his laurels would not be roborant for their relationship. He realized that she was ready to rifacimento, and to maintain the starring role required his rapt attention. This was the reason he held the elegantly wrapped gift as he rapped on the door.

As soon as she saw the red bow, she read his mind; and racked her brain to remember, reluctantly, which rack in the recital room she had placed his gift. They exchanged greetings, and he commented on her raglan sweater. She thought that he was a real life raisonneur from her draft novel. Thus, without rhyme or reason, she put her arms around him and gave him a ravishing kiss. He was raptus as they relocated to the settee.

After their ‘I missed you kisses,’ she went to the kitchen to retrieve some refreshments. The recess from rapture gave him a chance to look around the room. He noticed the rare raad in the fish tank, and his relativism training rang a bell in the recess of his mind. He did not want to be shocked. True, he had reviewed their relationship last night; nonetheless, he was somewhat reluctant to rate it as a revue, not sincere. ‘Don’t let your mind roam,’ he reminded himself; ‘love, like Rome isn’t built in a day!’

When she returned, they ‘talked about the weather’ and became relaxed. She remarked that even though he was a novelist, like herself, he was not a ragabash. “A raconteur maybe,” he replied. Then he noticed that her watch was not on her right wrist. “What happened to it?” “Lost it at the spa,” was her forlorn reply.
Reluctantly the time rushed past, and it was that moment when you had to say good night. Yes, recess was over. They embraced as one, and shuffled to the door.

When the door closed behind him, he thought, ‘a lovely lady who lost her watch has become a timeless beauty.”

(A Real Life Raisonneur, © Steven S. Walsky, October 2015.)

Odd Words:
Raad: electric catfish.
Ragabash: idle worthless fellow.
Raglan: having sleeves going all the way to the neck.
Relativism: doctrine that knowledge and truth are relative to contexts.
Rifacimento: recasting of a literary or musical work.
Raisonneur: person in a play or book embodying author’s viewpoint.
Raptus: trance; rapture; seizure.
Roborant: strengthening drug or tonic.
Raconteur: teller of anecdotes.