Tag Archives: forward motion

Found: Key, Part VII – Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Key by pej0

Key by pej0

Part VII  Photo Key by pej0, http://www.deviantart.com/art/key-110125031

A month later Ying was having tea with Eleanor on Saturday afternoon.

“Why do you track these dusty old relics?” Ying put her empty tea cup and saucer on the tray in front of the sofa in the antique shop. “What do you get out of it?”

Eleanor smiled and dunked a cookie in her cup and delicately bit it. She chewed, lost in thought. “I was 22, just out of college when I was first approached. I had just graduated with a degree in French History and looking for a job.” She smiled and shrugged. “It was a passion. I loved everything about it. I just didn’t think about how that would pay for a roof over my head and food in my belly.” She sighed. “I was approached by a very distinguished gentleman. He took me out for lunch.” Again Eleanor shrugged. “It’s embarrassing, really, how I stuffed my face. I was so hungry.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, I turned him down. I was young and full of myself. I was going to make my degree pay.” She chuckled. “Six months later, my girlfriend was giving me the eye about crashing in her apartment and the man approached me again. I wasn’t so dismissive that time. Again, I stuffed my stomach full but I actually listened. It was intriguing, being an agent in charge of historic artifacts.” She made a face. “That’s how he put it. But really, job prospects for a French History major are few and far between.” Eleanor sipped her tea. “I agreed.”

“And you ended up with an antique shop?” Ying was fascinated. This woman had taken a wholly different path but still seemed successful.

“Eventually. There was training. By the time I actually realized what they were about, I was fully invested. Talk about history!”

Ying organized her thoughts. “Jason and I have been dating. I’ve told you all of that.”

Eleanor nodded and refilled her cup.

“What I haven’t told you is that I don’t use the key with Jason.”

Eleanor’s cup hovered just off of the saucer. “Not at all?”

Ying shook her head and refilled her cup. She sipped. “Nope. What does that mean?”

The back of Eleanor’s fingers rubbed against the bottom of her chin as her eyes drifted to the elaborate antique tin ceiling, now painted white. “You’ve told me that you and Jason are happy. Good company, fine dining, happy outings.” She looked Ying in the eyes. “You’re in love?”

Ying was surprised to find her face flushing. She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve only known him a month.”

Eleanor smiled. “That’s enough, isn’t it?” She sipped her tea. “I like that you’re not using the key on him. You’re doing this for real, as the youngsters say. That’s good.”

Another flush rushed up Ying’s cheeks. It was suddenly clear to her why she’d not used the key. She didn’t want a man that had been coerced. Her hand shook and the cup rattled in the saucer. She put it down on the table. “So there’s nothing in your book about this?”

Eleanor shook her head. “Nothing. The previous owners were focused on becoming rich and powerful. You’re different. The key is behaving differently with you than our records indicate.” She grinned. A sheepish one that made her blush. “I have to admit. The other guardians are very interested in this case. It’s seldom that we get new data on an artifact’s behavior.”

Ying grinned. “Ah. You’re becoming a celebrity. Good for you.” She stood and smoothed her pantsuit. “I’ll keep you informed. I have a date with Jason tonight. I’ll let you know if anything unusual happens.”

#

They walked across the opera house lobby floor arm in arm. Ying could see the men’s eyes snap in her direction as they passed. She knew she looked good in her black ankle-length dress, décolletage cut to her navel. But more, she and Jason together were a power couple. She could see it when they passed in front of a plate glass window coming into the opera. Her entire body buzzed with it. The key, made into a necklace on a fine gold chain, hung between her breasts. The buzz must be the key, she thought, the subtle movement creating the magic, but this was different. The key usually made her dizzy or nauseated. This was like electricity flowing through her. She thought that if she held her hand out and pointed, lightening would come shooting out of her fingers. It was heady.

After the opera and stops to talk to people each of them knew, they were seated in a quiet bistro on a side street. The wait staff, even at nine-thirty at night were attentive and smiling. The chef came out to personally take their order.

“Impressive.”

Jason shrugged. “I come here a lot. I tip well.”

Ying grinned. “Maybe. But these people seem to really like you.” She watched a blush run up his cheeks.

“Yeah. Well. What can I say.”

While drinks and appetizers were served, they talked about the opera. Over dinner and wine, they exchanged their plans for the future.

“What about you, Jason?” Ying took a sip of the Beaujolais Jason had ordered.

She noticed him play with his watchband. It was something he did when he was thinking. “I want the company to grow, of course.” He spun the band around on his wrist. “Perhaps rival The River one day.”

Ying grinned. “Ambitious, going from a gaming company to a world-wide distribution corporation.”

“Why not?” He grinned. “The River was just a book seller when they started.”

She laughed. The tingling returned. The power she felt was intoxicating. “I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

After dinner the night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the day. “Come to my house for a nightcap,” Jason offered.

Ying hesitated.

“Come on. It’s been a month. More if you count the time I knocked you on your butt.”

She understood. Going to his house meant staying the night. On one hand tomorrow was Sunday so no having to get up to go to work. On the other hand, did she want to move to that step? She glanced at her phone, waiting for it to ring. Her mother always knew. “Yes.” She threaded her arm through his right arm. “It’s time.”

 

Thank You!

 

End Part VII: 1064 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Found: Key, Part VI – Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Fairy Keys by bodaszilvia

Fairy Keys by bodaszilvia

Part VI Fairy Keys by  bodaszilvia, http://www.deviantart.com/art/Fairy-keys-127068674

She met Jason at a coffee shop near her office building. It felt a little awkward when she walked in. He was already at a table, wearing Dockers and a polo shirt, and stood up to greet her when he saw her come in. Ying extended her hand, it seemed too early in the relationship to even kiss cheeks in greeting.

He looked a little surprised but grinned as he held her chair. Jason waved a waitress over. “I’ll have coffee, a bowl of oatmeal and a side of fresh fruit.”

Ying was pleased. He didn’t go for a huge fry-up. “Coffee, soft boiled egg and I’ll have the fruit, also.”

“Right away, folks.” The waitress left.

“How’s your leg?” He sat quietly, not fidgeting with the salt and pepper shakers, his hands folded together on the table.

Ying liked that he looked interested. She held the leg out and pulled up her suit pant’s leg. The skin was scraped, a few streaks where blood had been drawn. He leaned over the table to look. “I didn’t want to pull stockings over it.” She dropped the pant leg.

“Sensible. You’re working today?”

“I am.” Ying paused as the waitress brought their coffees. “Thank you,” she told the waitress.

Jason thanked her, too, then reached for the cream.

Ying reached for the sugar. “I just made partner and six work days a week is kind of standard.”

“Congratulations.” Jason handed her the creamer as she pushed the sugar toward him. “What do you do?”

“Thank you. I’m a sales rep for Stein and McVie, selling financial products. You?” Now she’d find out how a young man could peel off hundred dollar bills to pay for cabs.

“Video game designer. Race to the Moon is one of our recent games.” He stirred the sugar into his coffee.

“Nice. I haven’t heard of it but good for you.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I get that a lot. But it doesn’t matter. It’s a big market anyway.”

“You have a company? I heard you say ‘our’?” Despite the fact they were seated in the middle of the coffee shop, the conversations going on around them felt like a curtain. Totally private.

“Yeah. I’m the owner, well, third owner. My two college buddies are the other partners.”

Ying smiled. “Very good! I’m impressed. You’ve done well for yourself.”

“So have you. Partner already and you’re what, twenty-two?” He arched an eyebrow and grinned.

“Cute way to ask. No, I’m twenty-seven. You?”

“Twenty-eight!

Just then the waitress brought their food. As they ate, they traded information on favorite hobbies and books. As she paid her check, Ying realized she never even touched the key in her pocket, she’d been that comfortable with Jason.

When she stood up to go, Jason stood with her. “Look,” he gave her a card. “Call my number, make an appointment with my secretary. We might be in the market for some financial products.”

Ying’s eyebrows went up. “Oh!” She took the card, confused. Had he called her because he liked her or because she was a financial rep? “Uh, sure. First thing Monday.” She turned and left the shop, tucking the card in her jacket pocket. All the way to the office she tried to puzzle out what just happened. She thought they were getting along so well.

In her office she researched video game companies and drafted out a plan to talk to them about. By three, most of the rest of the partners and associates had left. She tidied up her desk and left notes with the outline for Sharon to type up in the correct format and went home, still confused about Jason. Was the key keeping them apart or did he think she was just after his business? She changed into running gear and left her apartment. A run would help clear her mind.

Sunday morning, she was deep into the financial pages of the Sunday paper when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, Ying. It’s Jason.”

Her heart began to beat like humming bird wings. “Hi, Jason. I wasn’t expecting a call.”

“Well, I meant to ask you yesterday but you left me bemused. How would you like to have brunch? I hope you haven’t eaten. The Ritz has the best brunch on the planet. Tell me you haven’t eaten!”

She laughed with relief that it didn’t seem as though he was just looking for financial products and the way he was pleading. “Well, I did have some fruit a couple of hours ago but I think I can manage brunch. What time should we meet?”

“Let’s say noon. That gives you an hour to get ready.”

“Very considerate. I’ll meet you at noon at the Ritz.”

“Great! See you there.”

Ying, grinning, clicked her phone off. So, based on his enthusiasm, he liked her too. She took a deep breath and patted the key in her lounging pants pocket. “Thank you key,” she murmured and got up from her sofa, pages of the paper cascading to the floor. Time for a shower and a look through the closet. She wanted to strike just the right note when he saw her.

Thank You!

End Part VI: 865 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Found: Key, Part V – Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Available Keys by Art by Star LaMoore

Available Keys by Art by Star LaMoore

Part V Available Keys by Art by StarLaMoore, http://orig05.deviantart.net/37af/f/2012/185/3/f/available_keys__by_starl33na-d56176f.jpg

Ying waited a week before going back to the antique shop to see Eleanor. Once she was there, she told the guardian what she’d done the previous Friday.

Eleanor’s eyebrow arched. Ying watched as the fingertips of Eleanor’s right hand tapped on the sofa arm and Eleanor stared off into space. “Interesting,” she finally said. “No, no women, that we know of, have ever held the key. Times were different, women didn’t go into business, in general, anyway.” She smoothed the gray skirt over her legs. “What has the key done?”

“Nothing different than last month. My projects are all going well. I’m getting valuable clients. Presentations are flawless.”

“You haven’t met your dream match?”

Ying shook her head. “Nope. Not yet. But it has just been a week. It looks like the key wants to stay with me, so that’s something.”

“Indeed.” Eleanor’s fingers tapped again. “Not to pry, but I’d really like to follow this, if you wouldn’t mind sharing.”

“Why not.” Ying shrugged, then stood up. “You don’t want the gory details, just the progress toward making a family. I can do that.” She picked up her purse and briefcase. “You don’t mind if I email you, do you, with updates?”

“Not at all. You have the shop card. Use that email. I’m the only one that checks it.”

“Appreciate it. I’ve left early two Friday’s in a row, now. People at work notice these things.”

Eleanor stood and walked with Ying to the door, holding it for her. “Not at all. But don’t be shy. When you can, come by and we’ll have tea. I like our chats.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks again.” Ying started out of the door and as she cleared the recessed entryway onto the sidewalk, a young man in a gray business suit collided with her. She spun and the heel of her shoe broke. Her briefcase went flying, tangling with the man’s and both of them skidded off of the curb into the street. “Oh!” She landed on her hip, stockings shredding on the sidewalk.

The man was down on one knee, having done his best to catch her when she fell. He was looking at her face, an arm around her shoulders.

Eleanor hurried to them. “Are you all right?”

Ying took a breath. His face pulled her in, high cheek bones, deep brown eyes and sandy brown hair framing it all. She blinked the second time Eleanor called her name. “Uh, yes. I think so.”

“I’m so sorry,” the man said as he helped her to her feet. “I didn’t see you there.” He hurried to the curb and picked up both briefcases. “A little scuffed, but I’m afraid I’ve ruined your shoes and your suit.” He handed Ying her briefcase.

Ying was brushing off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t look before I came out of the doorway.”

“My fault entirely, miss.”

He looked so upset she had to smile. “I’m Ying Lee.” She held out her hand.

“I’m Jason Fitch.” He shook her hand. “I am like a bull-dozer. I am so sorry.” He looked at Eleanor. “Thank you for rushing to her aid.”

Eleanor smiled. “No problem at all. I wasn’t much help, I’m afraid.” She turned to Ying. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” She quirked an eyebrow out of sight of Jason and went back inside.

“I should catch a cab, I think.” Ying took off both shoes. There was no way to walk in them with one broken.

“Let me pay,” Jason said. “It’s the least I can do.” He walked to the curb and went between two parked cars and began to wave down an approaching cab.

“That’s not necessary. Really.” Ying picked her way to the street beside him. Gravel dug into the bottoms of her feet.

“It is, Ms. Lee. I won’t take no for an answer.”

The cab pulled up and Jason opened the back door. “Please. My treat.”

Ying sighed. “Very well, then.” She got into the cab and pulled a business card out of the brief case. “Call me.”

His face brightened. “Certainly. I’d be happy to.” He closed the cab door and leaned in the front passenger window. “Please take the lady where ever she’d like to go.” He pulled his wallet out and handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill.

“Yes, sir.” The cabbie gave him a salute.

As the cab pulled away, Ying could see Eleanor in the shop window watching. She told the cabbie her address and settled back into the seat. She patted her suit jacket pocket. Thank you, key.

She thought about Jason Fitch’s eyes. How she’d just fallen into their depths. She tingled with excitement. He seemed nice. Polite. Considerate. Well dressed. And obviously successful the way he paid the cabbie. Her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her purse and looked at the screen. Perfect timing.

“Hello, mom.”

“Hello, Ying.”

“You have perfect timing. I just met someone.”

“Really!”

Ying had to chuckle at the excitement in her mother’s voice. “How do you know exactly when to call?”

“I’m your mother. Now. Tell me all about this young man.”

“Okay, mom. I’ll tell you everything.”

She was still talking to her mother when the cab pulled up in front of her building. “Hey. I’m home. Let me call you later.”

“You’d better.” She blew her daughter a kiss.

“I will, mom. I promise.” Ying clicked off and thanked the driver. In her apartment she tossed the shoes into the trash, the stockings too.

She’d just finished washing the blood from her scraped leg when her phone rang. Unknown number, she noted. “Hello?”

“Is it too soon to call?”

 

 

Thank You!

 

End Part V: 945 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Found: Key, Part IV – Flash Fiction Friday Post

Posted on by
heart_keys_by_dementedviking

Heart Keys by DementedViking, http://www.deviantart.com/art/Heart-Keys-78977694

Part IV Heart Keys by DementedViking,  http://www.deviantart.com/art/Heart-Keys-78977694

Ying hurried out of the shop and onto the street where she had room and air to think. No family? She’d always assumed there would be a family. There had never been a rush before. She was only twenty-seven. As she walked to her apartment, the briefcase she carried seemed heavier than usual. Like a boulder, trapping her in a job she was no longer sure she wanted. Her steps were slow, not at all her usual brisk pace. Her eye caught every woman with a child that came along the sidewalk. It occurred to her there weren’t a lot of those. There were plenty of shops, even a toy store but not a lot of children. Why?

At home unusually early, only five p.m. she changed into casual clothes and took a walk to the park. Ying sat on a bench near the playground and watched. Moms with little kids in close view chatted on benches. Kids screamed with delight as they raced each other up slide ladders or dared each other to swing higher. Mothers called to children and they left in ones and twos, to go home and make supper, Ying guessed. What was that like? Get supper on the stove, get the kids washed, send a fast kiss hubby’s way when he came home? Maybe it was all rush, rush. Ying remembered soccer practices and games, or skating lessons, or piano lessons most every night of the week. Sure, there were sit down dinners but generally only on Sunday.

Is that what she wanted? Domestic bliss? She shook her head. It hadn’t seemed important before today. She pulled the key from her pocket and studied it as it lay in the palm of her hand. The scroll work on it was now free of dirt. The key was beautiful—more art than function. She mused on the original owner and the castle study. Was it a den, books lining the walls, or a lab, beakers and flames and mysterious bubbling colored potions? An alchemist, Eleanor had told her. Ying pictured an old man in robes and a pointed hat, more wizard than scientist. More Merlin than Neil DeGrasse Tyson. Slipping the key into her pocket she rose and wandered through the park, trying to sort her thoughts.

Her cell rang. A glance at the screen showed a picture of her mother. “Hey, Mom.” Appropriate her mother would call now.

“Ying. I was thinking of you and decided to call.”

The woman must be psychic. “Nice to hear from you, Mom. How are you and Dad?”

“We’re fine. Your father insisted on fixing the bathroom sink himself. Now the sink is completely broken. We have to use the guest bath.”

Ying chuckled. Her father was an excellent attorney, but a terrible handyman. “Ouch. Will it cost much?”

“More than it would have.” Her mother’s voice was dry. “Anyway, I thought you’d like to know your old best friend, Lena, is having a baby.”

Ying rolled her eyes. This was how her mother reminded her that they wanted grand-children. “How nice. She’s been married, what, three years? Her wedding was so beautiful.”

“Yes, it was.”

There’s another hint. “I took off of work early today. I’m in the park.”

“Good. You work too hard. No wonder you’re so skinny. Men don’t like boney girls.”

“Mom! I’m perfectly healthy. I work out and eat right, that’s all.”

“Hmmpf,” sounded clearly over the cell. “Maybe. Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”

“Thanksgiving is four months away. I’ll see. I’m a new partner, I don’t want to seem too privileged.”

“You didn’t come last year.”

There was that tone. “True. I was trying to make partner, Mom.”

“Well, now you’re a partner. You come home.”

“I’ll do my best, Mom. Look. I have to go.” Ying blew a kiss into the phone. “Tell Dad I love him.”

“I will.” She blew a kiss back to her daughter. “Find a husband!” She clicked off.

There it was. Ying wondered when she’d toss that into the conversation. She slid the phone into her pocket. What if I do want children? What if that’s what makes me happy? Were any of the other owners women? Perhaps the key would work differently for a woman? Ying stopped in the shade of a huge maple and pulled the key out of her pocket. A short distance away, a young family was spreading out a blanket, the two toddlers hindering in their efforts to help. She smiled as they all laughed at the mess they were making. So, key. What do you think? If I want a successful family and success in business, can you give that to me? She stroked the key, wrapped her hand around it and closed her eyes. Ying formed a picture in her mind of a husband and a child, laughing at the beach, her taking a picture.

A wave of nausea roiled her stomach. She opened her hand and stared at the key. “What did you give me, key? What did you do?”

 

Thank You!

 

Part IV: 842 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Found: Key, Part III – Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Keys by KororowoxDD

Keys by KororowoxDD 

http://www.deviantart.com/art/keys-79877806

You can see Part 1 here.

Part III

The new account needed to be set up and work begun on sending the client the required products. Each time she sent the owner an email or talked to him on the phone, she fingered the key. It occurred to her about the third time she did it, that she knew the key was working because she’d feel dizzy or nauseous. She did her best not to be fingering the key all day long. It seemed greedy, somehow. But for important transactions, dealing with her clients, sitting at the partner meetings, she would stroke it once or twice and then take her hand out of her pocket.

At the end of the month she remembered the antique store owner, Eleanor. I need to talk to her. Get more information about this key. Ying left her private office early, telling the partner’s secretary, Sharon, “I have some personal business to take care of. See you on Monday.”

Outside of the antique store, Ying hesitated. The tray of keys was no longer in the window. What did that mean? She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. I’ll have to ask.

Inside Eleanor was ringing up a customer. She nodded at Ying and went back to her transaction. Ying wandered the store. She saw a carved, enameled screen, black with gold edging, an oriental scene done in the same pastel colors she had decorated her apartment in. It would look stunning in the living room corner.

Eleanor arrived as Ying was turning over the price tag. “It is a lovely piece, isn’t it?”

Ying’s eyebrows rose at the $3,000 price. Too much for her. She wasn’t used to her new pay scale yet. She dropped the tag. “Yes. Very pretty.” She turned to Eleanor. “I’ve been using the key.”

Eleanor’s cocked an eyebrow. “Interesting. Let’s sit down. Tea?” She led Ying to a small seating area near the counter.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Eleanor went into the back and came out a few minutes later with a china teapot on a tray, two cups on saucers and a plate of cookies. “I do believe the English tea time ranks right up on the civilized behavior scale with the European mid-afternoon nap time.” She poured for both of them and sat back, cookie on her saucer and cup in hand. “Tell me all about your month.”

Ying settled back and related the subway terrorist incident, her other uses of the key and that it made her dizzy or sick when used.

“The sickness is in the book. I can confirm that. I’m interested in the key saving you the first morning. You were taking care of the key. It seems to me it was reciprocating the favor.”

Ying sipped her tea, now cold. She leaned forward and poured more into the cup to warm it. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Cup returned to the saucer she sat back. “What happened to the tray of keys in the window?”

“Those?” Eleanor looked over the rim of her cup. “I change the display often. I moved them into the back.”

Ying had the feeling the tray was supposed to attract her inside the day she found the key. “Does the key show up on a schedule?”

“Perceptive. It does have a cycle. It was time for it to appear. We never know where, though.”

“We? Who are you? Your group?”

Selecting another cookie from the tray, Eleanor dunked it lightly into her cup. “I suppose you could call us guardians. We know the history of many powerful objects and do our best to keep track of them.”

“And the key is just one?” Ying’s mind began to race at the thought of many of these objects circulating through the world.

“One of many. When one does show up, we try to offer the finder help.”

“Why not just get the things and lock them away?”

Eleanor chuckled. “That was tried, centuries ago. The objects have a mind of their own. They select their users and will not be denied. The key is benevolent, for the most part.”

A shock ran through Ying. “What do you mean?”

“Magic has to be paid for. Nothing is free, in this world or the arcane world.” Eleanor shrugged. “How have you been?”

“Fine, except for when I use the key. But that’s just a little momentary discomfort. Why?” Ying put the cup and saucer back on the tray and waited for the answer.

“Have you been out at all? Socialize, date?”

“I’ve been too busy. I was just made partner. I’m working eleven or twelve hour days, six days a week.”

Eleanor nodded. “The key is giving you what you want. You’re a professional woman. You’re focused on your job. You’re young and already a partner. Did you have any plans for a family?”

Ying blinked. “Someday. Of course. When I find the right man.”

Eleanor sighed. “In the key’s history, there has been no mention of the users ever marrying or having a family. That’s the price your object charges.”

Up until now, a husband and family were just vague future plans. Her parents had been riding her since high school to find a husband and start a family. They were very Chinese that way. But she kept putting it off, first for college, then to work. They approved of her every advancement but grand-children were their primary goal. “I. Um, I’m not sure.”

“Sure of what?”

“Whether I want a family. What if I do? Will the key leave me? Has anyone tried to have a family while they had the key?”

“If they did, the other guardians never made a note of it.”

Ying stood up. She had to think. “Here’s my card.” She pulled a card out of the little pocket on her briefcase. “Has no one given up the key?”

Eleanor shook her head. “Not that we know of.”

 

Thank You!

 

Part III: 989 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Found: Key – Part II Flash Fiction Friday Post

Posted on by
Tray of Keys by Randy Cockrell

Tray of Keys by Randy Cockrell

You can see Part 1 here.

Part II

Ying Lee finished her report and with it, submitted the contract to her boss.

Felicity Morgan smiled as she flipped through the documents “This is fantastic, Ying. We’ve been trying to land this client for years. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Felicity. I’ve been following the advice you gave me in the mentoring sessions. It was extremely effective.”

Her boss nodded. “I think the partners will be favorably impressed. You’re still interested in the partnership?”

“I am.” Ying could hardly contain her excitement. Finally! “I think I’m ready to take on the additional responsibility.”

“I think so, too. Let me talk to the other partners at your next meeting. I think it’s time.”

Both women rose and shook hands. “I appreciate the support, Felicity. Thank you.”

#

At home that evening, Ying poured herself a celebratory glass of Merlot. Barefoot, with glass in hand, she retrieved the key from her purse and took it into the kitchen. Unwrapping the tissue, she put the key on her counter. All of the elaborate designs were filled with dirt. She thought about Eleanor’s idea that rubbing the key might activate its powers. She was reluctant to do that but it bothered her to see such a beautiful object, a work of art, really, so grimy. Pulling a glass mixing bowl from the cabinet she filled it with hot water and a squirt of dish soap then put the key into the bowl. “Where have you been the last hundred years, key?”

Ying sipped her wine as she stared into the bowl. She sighed and left the kitchen. There were still reports to read before bed. She’d think about the key in the morning.

#

She’d set her clock for half an hour earlier than usual. In the kitchen, over her coffee, soft boiled egg and mixed fresh fruit, Ying drained the water from the bowl. A good deal of sand washed into the sink. She hoped it wouldn’t clog the drain. The key, now on a kitchen towel, cleaner, still had a great deal of grime embedded in the scrollwork. Ying sighed. Should she take the chance to clean the grime out with a wooden toothpick? Leaving the dirt in there just highlighted the intricate design. She should just leave it.

Instead, she found herself bent over the counter, gently digging the dirt away from the key. When she finished it was half an hour past time she usually left the apartment. Her stomach churned as she dressed and dropped the key in her suit jacket pocket before running out of the door. Crap. I just talked to Felicity about being able to handle more responsibility and here I am, late for work.

She tried to hail a cab. No luck. Traffic was even worse than usual. Instead she hurried along the sidewalk. Dashing between people, she was focused on getting to work. It seemed as though everyone in the city was on the sidewalk. By the time she arrived in her office, her feet were killing her and she was sweaty from the struggle to arrive.

The staff was in the conference room. Oh my God. I’ve missed a meeting! She searched her mind in a panic. She didn’t remember any meeting. Briefcase still in hand she stopped in the conference room door. Everyone was focused on the television mounted at the rear of the room. Crowds of people filled the screen. Most of them covered in soot and blood. Crying, calling for help. “What’s happening?”

“Oh my God, Ying!” The associates secretary, Mandy, leapt from her seat at the table and ran to the door. “We were so worried.” She gave Ying a hug. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. What’s happening?”

“Don’t you know? A terrorist attack on the subway. It’s your line. We thought you were in there.”

The entire room was up and surrounding her. Everyone asking questions at once. “No. No. My alarm didn’t go off. I overslept. I walked to work.”

Felicity came into the room. “Ying. We were worried. Are you all right?”

Ying was blinking with confusion. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. What’s this about terrorists?”

“Hell of a thing. Bombed the subway. So many people hurt and dead.”

“I’ll get you a cup of tea.” Mandy hurried off.

“Yes. Come to your office. Rest.” Felicity threaded her arm through Ying’s and led her to her cubicle. “We were worried. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Thank you.” At her desk she put her briefcase against the cubicle wall and sat down. Her hand crept to her jacket pocket. She could feel the key through the cloth. “I can’t believe it.”

“Yes. Well. I suppose this is the sign of our times. Isn’t it.” Felicity made herself at home in the guest chair beside the desk. “Are you sure you’re all right? You look a little stressed.”

Ying nodded. “I suppose I am. I usually ride that subway. I just. I just was walking. Today.”

“A good thing.” Felicity patted Ying’s hand. “We wouldn’t want to lose our newest partner so soon.”

It took Ying a moment to change her mind from worrying about being late, then terrorists to the implied information her boss just told her.

“Partner?”

“Yes, dear. Partner. We were going to announce it more formally but with the attack, it seems inappropriate. We’ll announce it later in the week.”

Ying nodded. “Of course. Totally inappropriate.” She managed a smile. “Still. Thank you and the partners. I’ll keep it to myself, of course.”

Felicity nodded. “Good girl. I knew you’d understand.” She rose just as Mandy came around the corner with a cup in hand. “We’ll expect your analysis of those reports by the end of the day.”

“Of course.” Ying nodded.

Mandy put the mug on Ying’s desk. “Gosh. They don’t let up do they. You let me know what you need. I’ll be right at my desk.”

“Sure. Thanks, Mandy.”

Ying fingered the key through her pocket. Was it the key or just stupid luck?

Thank You!

Part II: 1000 Words

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Chili Cook-Off: Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Chili Cook-off

Chili Cook-off

This story is based on my Jean Hays series. For the recipe, go to my blog post Chili Spice Mix, Chicklets in the Kitchen.

 

Jean and Karen and Karen’s daughter, Peggy, were in the bowling alley bar. Jean sipped her beer. “I haven’t had beer this good since I was in Germany.”

“I’ll have to admit; I do love these craft beers. Clever of the bowling alley to upscale their bar.” Karen poured a second glass from the pitcher on the table.

“Mom, did you read today’s paper?” Margaret drew the twice weekly paper from her tote. “The chili cook-off is in two weeks.” She handed the paper to her mother.

Karen opened it and looked at the community activities section. “Oh, yeah! I haven’t entered that in a few years.” She grinned at Jean. “Want to enter?”

Jean laughed. “The way I cook? What would be the point?”

“Come on. About time you learned to cook the southwest way. That New England boiled dinner stuff has got to go.”

Jean’s mouth fell open. “That’s comfort food, I’ll have you know.”

“Maybe so. But it’s dull. Spice up your life.”

“I don’t know. I suppose I can just open a chili spice packet.”

Both Karen and Peg gasped. “Don’t you dare! I’ll tell the judges and have you kicked out.” Karen shook her head.

“Well then, what do you do?”

“I use my mom’s spice recipe. You’ve had it, by the way. I use it as a dry rub on ribs.”

“Oh, the ones we had last week? Those were wonderful.”

“Good. Go on line, search for chili recipes. Find one that seems good to you. Then go to the store and look at the ingredients in canned or jarred Mexican food. Modify the recipe so it’s yours. Make a test batch or two of chili. Then bring it to the contest.”

Jean snorted. “That’s all, huh?”

“Well, you have to enter the contest now.” The three of them laughed.

The next day Jean went on-line to the contact given and entered the chili cook-off. Then got on her computer to search for recipes. She focused on prize-winning ones. No sense getting just any recipe. After jotting down ingredients from a handful she found she noted that most of them were quite similar. She started a new list, one that contained the same ingredients that they all did. Then Jean considered the differences. It seemed that the small amounts of different herbs and spices were the key. Time to go to the grocery.

She spent some time looking at the canned and jarred prepared Mexican food. Most of it contained the basic flavors she had on her base recipe. A few, however, did go outside of the box. Making notes about those different flavors, she gathered all of the ingredients and went home to whip up a batch of chili spice.

Jean made some averages on measurements. Many of the recipes used almost the same amounts. It was her additions that caused her pause. She decided to base her amounts on the other recipe’s small additions and give it a try.

The first batch was way too hot, as far as she was concerned. She cut back on the ancho peppers. The second batch had too much cilantro. It was the fifth batch that she liked the best. Writing down her recipe, she went back to the store to refresh her supplies. The cook-off was two days away.

She borrowed a crock pot from Karen and carefully transported the chili to the cook-off. It was a fund-raiser so people bought tickets, then after getting one ounce tastes, selected the chili they liked best, second and third, by dropping the tickets into cans at the exit.

Jean and Karen were next to each other and enjoyed talking to all of the people who came by to get a taste of their chili. Chief White, the Greyson Chief of Police came by. “Hi Karen. Glad to see you back. Your chili is always a favorite.” He held his little cup out to Jean. “Glad to see you entering, Jean. Is the chili hot?”

She shrugged. “I’d say medium, but everyone’s taste is different.”

“We’ll see. Later, ladies.”

Karen elbowed Jean. “Two years. Why don’t you ask him out for coffee?”

Jean rolled her eyes. “Oh for gosh sakes. He’s not interested. Remember, he thinks we’re both bubble heads.”

Karen laughed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Jean was scraping the last half ounce of chili from the crockpot when time was called. Several of the competitors had run out half an hour before. She hoped it was because they’d been too generous or hadn’t brought enough, not that theirs was better.

It took forty-five minutes before the organizers got on the microphone to announce the winners. Jean didn’t know the third place winner, though Karen seemed to and clapped when the guy’s name was announced. Then the announcer said, “And second-place goes to returning cook, Karen Carter!”

Jean jumped up and down and hugged her friend. “How great! And after you’ve been out of it for so long.” Karen went up and got her small trophy and certificate. Jean was looking the prize over when the announcer said, “And this year first-place goes to newcomer Jean Hays!”

Karen hooted in Jean’s ear. “You won!” She jumped up and down. “You won!” She shoved Jean, still shocked, toward the announcer.

Jean stumbled forward, applause washing over her, blushing. The announcer, the head of the organization, held the first prize cup between them as they faced a photographer. Jean smiled and nodded at the congratulations and managed to get “Thank you all so much,” out of her mouth.

At their table, Karen hugged Jean again. “I guess I can’t say you can’t cook anymore.”

Jean shook her head. “I guess not.”

 

Thank You!

951 Words

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Found: Key, Part I – Friday Flash Fiction Blog

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Key by Chunkygummybear via www.deviantart.com

Key by Chunkygummybear via www.deviantart.com

http://www.deviantart.com/art/key-62685439, Key by chunkygummybears

Part I

Ying Lee hurried along the sidewalk, high-heels clicking a staccato beat, her briefcase tapping against her skirted thigh. She rehearsed her presentation as she traveled. If she could land this account, that would put her in the running for partner. She felt good about this. She’d been emailing her potential client, sending him freebies, making friends. Today it was time to close the deal.

A glint from the sidewalk made her step stutter. She backed-up, causing the man behind her to bump her shoulder. “Sorry.” He glared but went on. Ying stopped and stared at the grubby junction between the building and the cement sidewalk. Crouching, she studied the key that lay in the dirt. It didn’t look shiny now. It seemed old—an ancient skeleton key, like in some story book.

She reached out and picked it up. It had an elaborate, curlicue bow, but no key ring or cord attached to it. The shaft had four cuts of different lengths and widths. She couldn’t imagine what kind of lock the key would open. Standing, she pulled a tissue from her purse and rubbed off some of the dirt. Ying felt a little dizzy. She took a breath and thought, stood too fast. It’s pretty. She wrapped it in the tissue and put it in her purse. Ying checked her watch and continued to her meeting. I’ll go to a locksmith after the meeting and ask what kind of key this is.

Ying was pleased as she left her client’s office. The contract was bigger than she expected. She grinned all the way out of the building. Take that, Clint Baker. I’m going to be the next partner. As she went along the sidewalk two mothers with strollers blocked her way. She stepped into the nearest doorway to let them pass. An old man in a Veteran’s ball cap rode by on a motorized chair. Ying glanced in the window of the shop. A display of keys, old ones, caught her eye. Her found key leapt to mind.

Opening the door, she went inside. Antiques, she realized. The store had classical music playing in the background. Everything was displayed elegantly, dusted and expensive looking.

At the counter an old woman sat, a gilt-edged book open on the counter in front of her. “May I help you?”

Her voice was firm, a surprise. Ying expected a weak, quavery voice. “Umm, yes.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the tissue. She placed it on the counter and unwrapped it. “I found this a little while ago. What can you tell me about it?”

The old woman put a ribbon in her page and closed the book. “I’m Eleanor. I own this shop.” She pulled a magnifying glass out from under the counter and examined the key. “Interesting. Where’d you find it?”

“Just up the block. I saw it glint.”

Eleanor descended from her stool like a queen from her throne and turned to the wall of research books behind her. She studied the spines then selected a book with a spine so old, faded and broken, Ying couldn’t read it.

Eleanor opened the book and turning the pages with care, stopped on a page near the middle. Even upside down, Ying could see that the illustration looked exactly like the key she’d found.

“Interesting.” Eleanor adjusted her glasses. Circles sat in such a thin gold frame it was nearly invisible. The frames were attached to black ribbon that went around her neck. “It’s been over a century since this key has been seen.”

“What do you think it goes to?”

“Originally, the study in a castle in France. A famous alchemist of the time owned the castle. At least that’s the rumor. The last report of it was from before World War I. A young Frenchman found it and apparently met with much success despite the war.”

Ying pushed down her impatience with such an unbelievable story. “Okay. Really?”

“I can see you don’t believe the story.”

“Well.” Ying shrugged. “I’m a practical person. I succeed because I work hard. There’s no magic.”

“The history of the key is quite clear.” Eleanor ran her finger down the page and turned it. “Every owner, that we know of, has had remarkable luck. Each owner said the key was responsible.”

A small snort escaped Ying. “I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Let me ask you a question,” Eleanor smiled. “Did you meet with some success this morning?”

Ying’s eyebrows rose. “I did. But I was prepared and I landed a new client.”

“Did it surpass your expectations?”

“The contract was bigger than I had anticipated.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I seriously don’t think it was because of a magic key.”

Eleanor shrugged. “Perhaps it was your hard work. Take the key. Keep it with you for a month then come back and tell me what you think.”

Ying eyed the key. “So, what? I rub it or something?”

“Is that what you did this morning?”

“I, uh, I just…” She remembered rubbing dirt from the key. “Yes. Yes I did.” She nodded to herself. “Can I wash it? It’s really dirty.”

“Try it.” Eleanor smiled again. “Thank you for stopping in. Do come back and tell me how it goes.”

“Ying re-wrapped the key in the tissue and put it back in her purse. This whole thing sounded crazy. “I, uh, I will.” On the way out the door she chastised herself. Why’d you promise to come back? I don’t have time for fairy-tales. Get back to the office and fill out the reports.

Thinking about her new client and the benefits the account would bring to her cheered her up. Her steps grew more definitive until her heels made a staccato beat on the sidewalk. No one or nothing is responsible for my success but me. Her chin rose. Poor Clint won’t know what hit him.

 

Thank You!

Part I: 989 Words

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Trapped in Nowhere: Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Space Freighter

Space Freighter

This story is based on one I wrote in January 2015. See “Escape”.

“I’m sorry! The frackin’ console was exploding and the Orion was gaining. There must have been a malfunction.” Pete Ostrander slammed the lid of the console down. Smoke and scorch marks marred the edges and around the buttons.

Captain Jan A’Mungo pulled her afro down, pulled all the loose hair back and tied it up with an elastic. She was sick of the tendrils falling into her eyes.

“Not his fault, Jan.” Jack Ender entered the bridge. “The cargo’s secured. That last jump was a doosey but everything is in good shape. The Orion had us in a corner.”

Jan’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t try and sweet talk me Jack. That was FUBAR and you know it.”

“Come on, Jan. This is a rust bucket and we were up against a state of the art Galactic patrol vessel. We’re lucky we came out the other side.” Pete gently touched a button and winced. The monitor he wanted came on without exploding. He released his breath.

“Report.” Jan tugged her tunic down and got back into the command chair. “Where are we?”

Pete tapped the buttons on his console. Screen after screen came up and went. He scratched his chin and the week old beard. “Um, nowhere.”

Both of the others turned to stare at him.

“Well, of course we’re somewhere.” He shrugged. “I just don’t know where that is.”

Jan gripped the armrests on her chair and took a deep breath. She counted to ten. Then she turned to her husband. “Please explain.”

“I tapped in the coords for Epsilon 4. But the console was sparking all over the place what with Ho blasting us to crap. So now, here we are.” Pete rubbed an ear. “If I get lucky, I can figure out what was damaged and trace us back.”

“Into Captain Ho?” Jack ran a hand through his cropped black hair.

Pete shook his head. “I don’t think so. He’s probably long gone. We left in a hurry and he probably didn’t have time to calculate our jump.”

“Apparently neither did we.” Jan’s eyes narrowed again at her husband. “You can get us back?” She watched as her husband pressed a finger to the spot between his eyes. She knew from experience he was about to tell a tale.

“Um. Sure. We can get back.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’ll check our inventory.” He got up and left the bridge.

Jan waited until Jack was gone. Pete was fussing with his console. “You don’t have a clue. Do you?”

He ran the heel of his hand across his cheek. “Well, no. But I will. Really.”

Jan got up and put a hand on his shoulder, her cheek next to his. “I believe you. Get it done.”

He gave her that lopsided grin that had attracted her to him in the first place. “Sure, Captain. I’ll get right on it.”

She cuffed him, gently, in the head. “Good. I’m gonna take a nap. Call me when you have something.”

#

Eight hours later, showered and with a food pack in hand, she re-entered the bridge. Pete had the lid of the console up. Jack was missing. “How’s it going?”

“Jack went to bed about 4 hours ago.” He shut the lid of the console. His blond hair stood up in every direction and his eyes had dark circles under them. “I think I have it.”

She sat in her command chair and popped the top on the food. The smell of beef stew filled the bridge. “What do you have?” Jan spooned a mouthful and waited.

“Well.” Pete rubbed his eyes. “I traced the jump record back to the attack. The last fifteen seconds before the jump I can see where there’s a power surge in the jump circuits.” He arched his back and stretched his neck back. “Anyway. I think I know where the surge sent us. If so, we have a new, uncharted jump point.” He arched an eyebrow.

Jan blinked, the stew forgotten in her hand. “A new jump point. One the Galactic Patrol doesn’t know about.”

Pete grinned. “If we can get back.”

Jan’s hand covered her mouth, eyes wide. “Our own, secret, jump point.” She dropped her hand and grinned. “Can you get us back?”

“I think so.”

“Make your notes and go get some sleep. We’ll do this when you’re rested.”

#

Eight hours later, they were all in their seats on the bridge, strapped in and ready. “Proceed when ready.” Jan nodded and smiled at her husband.

He turned to his console. She could see his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “Commencing jump sequence.”

“Jump sequence commencing. Proceed.” Jan gripped the arms of her command chair. She didn’t know if they were going to make it back to known space or leap out farther into uncharted space.

Jack as usual, joked. “Saddle up boys and girls. It’ll be a ride.”

Jan rolled her eyes just as Pete hit the button. The ship shook as space blurred and time seemed to slow to a crawl. It felt like forever between breaths. After what seemed like an eternity, they popped out into real space. The stars aligned.

Pete studied the monitors closely then turned his chair to face the rest. “We made it. We’re just outside of Talia system.”

Jack whooped, unbuckling and leaping out of his seat to embrace Pete. “I knew you could do it!”

Jan winked at her husband. “Better mark the spot. We’re gonna want to know these coords.”

Pete gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”

“Prepare to jump to Onyms system. We have a cargo of weapons to deliver.”

Jack bowed to her. “Yes, oh great queen of the spaceways. We hear and obey.”

She snorted. “You’d better.”

They all laughed and got to work. The rebellion had a new weapon. A secret jump point. Jan grinned. This might even get them some parts and repairs.

Thank You!

993 Words

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Unexpected Guests Part III: Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Gold Mining Area

Gold Mining Area

You can find Part II here: http://wp.me/p6LAko-IQ

Part III

They spoke just low enough so he could hear mumbles. Nate in particular kept looking over at Zeke’s tent. Zeke didn’t like it but he didn’t know what else to do. Maybe I’m over reacting. Maybe they’re really just passin’ through.

He watched as they passed a small bottle around. Then talked more. Zeke stood up to relieve his legs from the prickles and let the blood flow again. The three went back to their bedrolls, at least he thought they did. Their camp was out of sight of his tent door. It sounded like they were going to bed. He pushed the flap open and peeked out. No fire at their site meant he couldn’t see them.

He slipped out of the tent and eased around the corner out of sight of the others. The fire had died down to embers so didn’t give out much light. He could hear Butter and Jenny stamping in the dark. As quietly as he could, he headed for the creek. Not too far along the trail he’d made, there was a pile of boulders. He climbed up them and down into the middle. Still high, he could watch the whole camp in the dark. The moon would be up soon.

Zeke’s head jerked up at a sound. The half-moon lit the camp just enough for Zeke to see two dark shapes approaching his tent. His hands began to sweat and worse, his legs had fallen asleep. He needed to get the blood flowing before he had to run or fall flat on his face. Where’s the third man? Zeke watched two men stand beside the tent flap. They pulled their guns and while one pulled the flap, the other shot inside the tent.

The loud reports echoed through the night air. The flashes from the barrels were blinding. While they rushed in, Zeke could hear Butter whinny. Murderers!

The men came out of the tent. “He’s not here, Dan’l.”

That sounded like Earl.

“Shut up, stupid! Find him,” came from over by Butter and Jenny.

Zeke watched the two men at the tent split up. One went toward the animals. The other man came in his direction. Should he shoot? His sweaty hands slid on the rifle. He dried them on his pants and waited. Yes, one of them was coming this way. Zeke took a deep breath and as the man neared, Zeke fired. The man cried out and fell, then dragged himself off of the trail.

“Ned! Ned?”

So now he knew who he’d shot he had to move. The brothers would be here any second. He jumped down from the rocks and headed to the creek turning right to circle around to where Butter and Jenny were. At least he hoped they were still there. He could hear the sound of boots running up to his last spot.

“Nate! Where are you?”

Zeke heard a groan. So Nate wasn’t dead. At least not yet. He hurried up the slope doing his best to be quiet. The animals were where he left them. Good. He hurried to the camp and sheltered behind a scrawny tree beside his tent. Zeke could hear them coming back. All three from the sound of it.

“Zeke! Come out, boy. There’s been a misunderstanding.”

That was Daniel’s voice. Lying, murderous thieves. They must think I’m stupid. He waited, rifle raised and steadied on the tree trunk. When the three reached the camp, Nate supported by the other two, Zeke fired at the one on the right. The man screamed and fell to his left, pulling Nate down with him. “Earl!”

The man on the left must be Daniel. Zeke took aim but it was too late. Daniel did a diving roll to his right and was out of sight. Earl and Nate were both shrieking, calling Daniel’s name and screaming curses and threats at Zeke. The noise set Zeke’s teeth on edge. He eased back, toward the stranger’s camp, missing most of the acacia. Zeke could hear Daniel cursing the bushes as they snagged and tore at his clothes.

“Go away,” Zeke called before he moved to a new spot.

“You shot my brother.”

Zeke could hear him crashing through the brush but it was hard to tell where he was with the caterwauling from the wounded men. “You tried to shoot me.” He moved again.

Daniel was getting frustrated. Zeke could tell by the thrashing through the brush. Zeke edged up the hillside. Maybe he could see better up higher. There, as Zeke looked downhill, the moon came out from behind a cloud and he could see Daniel, gun extended in front of him, crossing the camp near the fire. Zeke took aim and fired. Daniel fell, just missing the fire and lay still.

Hurrying down the hill, rifle trained on the man, Zeke kicked Daniel’s foot. No movement. He grabbed some rope hanging from the tree nearby and tied Daniel up. Then he took the rope and headed for the two wounded men, still shouting obscenities at him. Zeke circled around to come up behind them.

The two were struggling to their feet, leaning on each other. Zeke walked up behind them. “Drop the guns.”

The two started to turn. “I said drop the guns.”

Wobbling, they complied, leaning on each other. “Tie Nate up, Earl.”

“I’m not…”

“Yes, you are. Or I’m gonna blow your head clean off.”

Earl swore under his breath but picked up the rope Zeke had tossed. With Nate tied, Zeke came to tie up Earl.

Four days later he was at the Sherriff’s desk, the unexpected guests in the cell behind him. The Sherriff was sorting through wanted posters. “Daniel Thomas, $2000. Brother Earl, $2000 and Nate Bartholomew, $3000. That’s quite a haul, Zeke.”

Zeke nodded and took the voucher the Sherriff handed him. He wasn’t against the money, but again, he had to shoot people for it. Not the way he wanted to do things.

 

End of Part III.

 

 

Thank You!

999 Words

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