Bad Habits
I slid down the wall like a strip of aged wallpaper succumbing to the heavy hand of gravity and came to rest on the worn seat of my jeans. The hard tiled floor in Bonnie’s kitchen was so cold it burned me through a hole in my left pocket.
I stared at a chair pushed out from beneath a tilted table, wondering why I hadn’t sat there.
I waited, drumming my fingers on the gritty tile, waiting for Bonnie and her ma to run out of words.
It might be a long damn wait.
I lit up a cigarette and cuffed a pant leg for my ash. I pulled in a lung full and then fouled the clear picture in front of me with gray. I sucked air through my nicotine stained teeth.
And drummed my fingers.
The words finally die and in a minute Bonnie’s bare feet appear next to my drumming fingers. Staring at the chipped paint on her nails I sucked more air through my yellowed ivories.
“Why do you do that?” She asked. Apparently, she had some leftover words.
I wondered what habit she was referring to and tapped ash into my cuff.
And she says, “I guess you got to go now.”
I took a drag and looked into her averted eyes.
“I guess your ma won the argument.”
“No,” Her eyes found me. “I did.”
Wayne has published one book, a collection of 14 short stories. He is currently working on a novel and has future plans of publishing a collection of his poetry.
- My Perspective - April 11, 2016
- Bad Habits - April 10, 2016
Great to see your first entry, Wayne. This was an enjoyable short story even though I had to read it twice. Well done.
Thank you John. It’s a pleasure to be here and to be able to work with you and the others again.
Wayne , Welcome to an awesome place ! Nice writing my friend , ahorseback!
Ah, Ed! Yes, I remember you well. At first I was wondering, “why did he write, ahorseback?” Lol!
Nicely penned Wayne, filled with stark imagery and characterization. A good way of recognizing quality flash fiction, is wanting more and you have more than succeeded. Carefully crafted and complelling read. Great work mate!
Thank you Tony. I have always loved writing this way, even before I knew what Flash Fiction was. Back in the day I called it, my notebooks full of ramblings. There is no expanded plot or character development; it’s just a thought you are able to put down, relaying your emotions.
Wayne my friend, I offer you a BIG WARM welcome to the site, I can’t wait to comment on your brilliant work. This piece drew me in instantly, your visuals captured my attention, I was that bad ass teen sitting on the floor, heck I even remember cuffing my jeans to drop my ash into them as well. Somethings change, but most remain the same, although they are distant memories of youth gone by. I’m happy to hear that she won, I also can remember the parent always winning and booting me out, with my head hanging as I kick started my Harley and peeled away leaving skid marks on their curb. Oh man, those were the days. Nice write my friend, now I’m wetting my lips, wanting more of your work.
Vincent, I also remember those days of rolled up cuffs and cigarette ash… and maybe ash of a different kind. And there was a girl named Bonnie. I think we were both a bad habit to one another, but we had a good time and remained friends. Her ma… not so much! Lol.
‘Bad Habits’ is about as good as the mini tale genre gets. Wayne you did a fabulous job of packing thousands of vivid images in just a few hundred well crafted words. We all have stories to tell of our lost youth, but very few can do it as well as you.
I just came back to re-read this wonderful piece of flash fiction. Wayne, where are you? We need more of your writing here.
Oh my gosh! I never read this one, Wayne. I was so busy helping John back then that I must have missed other posts, too. This is a great flash fiction. I am glad John brought it back around, and I agree with him – you need to come back and give us more! Very well penned work here, Wayne.