The Starving Activist is the sometimes-home for words. AR Neal (that’s me) finds them, cultivates them, and leaves them here. Enjoy.

Flash Fiction Chronicles: Life in the Wings

She fancied herself to be a southern belle. He was a slick hustler. Their eyes had met through the crowd at the country club, the spark between them palpable. Although she worked hard to preserve her girlish appearance, she felt under pressure to settle down with a respectable man. Somewhere, deep down, she knew he was no good but his act was impeccable; she wanted to show him off to her married friends as much as she wanted to believe that she was destined to be happy. So far her attempts at relationship-building had gone quite awry and behind her back those married friends called her foolish. However, this time had to be different; she’d done everything he’d asked, right down to wearing that horrid ecru shift dress to the club. He said it brought out the glow of her skin and it felt right to do what he said. She looked longingly out the window, watching a finch fly off across the mesa and wished she could be so free.

Written for Flash Fiction Chronicles' 16 March 2013 prompt. Stop on over and get some yourself...

Daily Prompt: Tell and Show

Flash Fiction Chronicles: Gold I Have