Flash Fiction: Country Playlist Edition

Okay, so I haven’t sat down and written anything in an age, but last night I got the writing urge and decided to just see where it went.

I didn’t want to embark on anything big or complicated, and it wasn’t like I’d suddenly been struck by an idea, I just wanted to get a blank document up and fill it with words.

So I ended up doing a mini Flash Fiction triple bill – I decided that for the next three songs that came up on my playlist, I’d give myself the length of the song playing to come up with something using just the title and the song in the background as a vibe.

I was listening to my Country playlist at the time, so everything was already quite story-driven anyway. For two of them, that was a help to get going, but for the other it entirely stalled my brain and I was genuinely concerned that I wasn’t going to get a single word out before the song ended and my time ran out!

I’ll let you figure out which one that was!

I haven’t edited these beyond what I did as I wrote – I was strict with the time limits.

Truth No. 2

It’s weird how once you start talking sometimes, everything suddenly pours out at once.

You have been quiet for years. Holding your tongue and turning aside. Looking at the floor instead of into faces, just to make sure even your eyes don’t say a word without meaning to.

Then one day, something unexpectedly breaks a seal and then out slips a truth you had been clutching close. And then another, and some more.

There’s fire in your belly, blazing in your eyes, and burning on your tongue.

It burns and it flares up bright, and hot, and fierce.

And for once, you let it free.

And afterwards… afterwards everything tastes like ash and you have no idea how you’re ever going to speak again.

(Written to Truth No. 2 by The Chicks)

*

Wildflowers & Wild Horses

Gentle and ferocious.

How can something be both all at once?

So fragile and easy to break, yet strong enough to weather every storm.

Impossible to truly tame, even if they let you close a while.

Wildflowers, Wild Horses… Women.

(Written to Wildflowers & Wild Horses by Lainey Wilson)

*

Two Black Cadillacs

Hat held tight to his chest, Murphy bowed his head as the long black cars slid by, tyres popping on the gravel.

He was careful not to look up until he heard them pass the bend behind the line of Yew trees to his left. Careful not to see anyone sitting in the back seats.

He didn’t know any names of people attending the funeral today, but he knew the name on the headstone.

J. F. Hammond.

Bigot. Philanderer. Thief. Creep.

Terrible at cards, and even worse at backstreet brawls.

Especially when there had been not one, but two, rather lovely ladies sending him drinks all night with their compliments.

He’d hardly been able to walk in a straight line when he’d followed one of them out of a side door into the alley, his hands fumbling with his belt before the door had even closed behind him.

Murphy hadn’t even had to try.

And ladies who can buy that much booze, and hire Cadillacs that new, always leave a tip for a job done well.

(Written to Two Black Cadillacs by Carrie Underwood)

*

It felt good to stretch the old writing muscles. I should do it more often – it’s been too long and I’m out of practice! Might have to dig the story dice out of retirement – they’re always good fun to use. (Remember that time we used them at Smut Club and I had to try and write smut involving a spaceship and a bee? That was fun.)