Friday Fictioneers-Past, Present, Future

goats_and_graves_3_randy_maziecopyright-Randy Mazie

It is with true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it.Francois de La Rochefoucauld

The heartbroken ghost cares not for the man sitting in her cemetery. Nor does she ponder the bleating goat. Her transparent fingers trace the name of her beloved etched in marble.

He used to awaken her with gentle kisses on her inner thigh. She’d smile and stroke his unshaven face.

After his sudden death, the grief was so great she took her own life. His spirit journeyed to Heaven. Hers was destined to roam the Earth.

Though ghosts don’t sleep, her spirit became awakened by his. The same way it was in life. His lips settled on her alabaster thigh.

100 words/Genre: Ghost Story

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Criticisms and kudos are most welcome. Bring it on my loves, bring it on.

It Feels Like Home to Me

tube-time2

If you have a dog, you will most likely outlive it; to get a dog is to open yourself to profound joy and,

prospectively, to equally profound sadness.-Marjorie Garber

I stood in front of the large metal sink and giggled to myself. Ozzy, the Golden Retriever waited expectantly for me to start dousing him with warm water.

“Oh aren’t you a little sweetie pie. I just love you,” I said in a soothing tone as I patted his muzzle.

In response, he snuggled my cheek and gave me a quick lick with his tongue. My heart melted. As I sprayed him with the directional nozzle, I thought about the last six months. I’d had every weekend off, but I didn’t feel complete. I missed my Salon Bitches. I missed the barking dogs. The nail clippings, the baths, the smells, and even the occasional nip by the anxious and scared puppy.

I missed being doused with water and the exhaustion that came with heaving dogs up and down from the grooming table. I missed seeing the end result of the bathing process. My dogs are divas when they prance out to their pet parents. They know they look good.

I missed Marlena, Clara,  Humphrey, and Clark. My life wasn’t complete without them. They are my other children.

Marlena had just given Clark a Mohawk. He looked so damn handsome. I placed my arms around him and braced myself. I knew his hug would be fierce. It was as I expected. Intense; warm.

Marlena and I shared secrets and tears. God, how I missed her warm embrace and the sweetness of her heart.

Clara walked in and started dancing around and giving me precious hugs. Her blonde hair is finally shoulder length. She is more beautiful than I remember.

Humphrey came in not much later and gave me hugs and dry humps. He yelled, “Don’t you ever leave us again, you whore.” I responded, “I promise I won’t. As long as you keep calling me a whore, ya slut.”

There were nails  to trim. Stories to tell. Lives to catch up on. Dogs to wash. Ears to clean. Gossip to share. Hair clippings to be swept up. Hearts to mend…

During the course of the day I silently observed Marlena, Clara and Humphrey. I wondered how I could have stayed away. I belonged here.

I finished washing Ozzy. Taking care to cover his eyes when I was rinsing his head. Then I expertly dried him with the high velocity blow dryer. By the time Ozzy was dry, I looked like an 80’s hair metal god. I removed him from the tub and walked him to his condo, set the floor dryer on high and headed back out to the salon.

Marlena made the comment, “Our Sundays are complete again.”

I agreed with her and screamed my trademark line,  “Eat the kitty. Eat it! Eat it!” I made a V with my fingers and stuck my tongue through it.

My friends lost their minds,  and so did I.

I finally felt complete. Like I was home.

 

Raindrops and Red Lipstick

Rain drops on the window

She touches it gently with her fingertips

She finds the window chilled by the Fall rain

Her mind wanders to warm summer days and warmer kisses

Memories of love

And him

Her mouth, close to the glass leaves steam on the window

She draws an over-sized heart

Then places a kiss in the middle of it

The cold glass is stained with her red lipstick along with the vapor

She draws an arrow  through it before the heart disappears

Then just like that, it’s gone

All that remains are her lip prints

And bitter sweet memories