The First Supper (fiction) & Emilio Pasquale Photo

Photo courtesy of Emilio Pasquale (click photo to view his site)
Photo courtesy of Emilio Pasquale (click photo to view his site)

Mackenzie Walters stood in the center of the large ballroom, soaking in the rays streaming in from the windows that made up the better part of three walls. For several minutes, she stood, transfixed by the lush gardens surrounding the banquet hall. The resort had touted itself as an oasis in the desert and she had to agree – nowhere else in Phoenix could she be transported to the tropics. She almost forgot it hadn’t rained in fifty-three days.

“Are you okay, Mackie?”

She glanced over her shoulder and saw her best friend, Heather, lingering in the doorway. She shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.” She turned to a nearby table and tugged at one of the white napkins to give it a taller peak. A flicker of memory made her smile; something her mom would say about busy hands and idle minds.

“I’m not so sure.”

“I appreciate your concern, but this is exactly what I want to do.”

“I think you’re in shock,” Heather said. “I mean, your parents died only four weeks ago and immediately you started planning this extravaganza.” She made a sweeping motion with her left arm.

Mackenzie nodded. “Yeah, there wasn’t much time to pull it together, but I think the place looks nice.”

“It should, for what you’re paying for it.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled. “Do you smell that?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s chicken piccata, pasta and fresh green beans, but it might as well be filet mignon and caviar.” She nudged a glass to line it up with the knife at another place setting. “It’s not about the money, it’s about the experience.”

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Rolling in the Deep – Speakeasy #161

Ominous clouds...(since I can't locate any ominous shadows!)
Ominous clouds…(since I can’t locate any ominous shadows!)

Paulina struggled to untangle herself from the satin sheet. Perspiration beaded along her hairline as she gulped air and flailed her limbs.

Her neighbor freed her legs and she tumbled from the bed, landing in a heap on the floor. “Did you have another nightmare?”

After several minutes, her labored breathing slowed enough for her to talk. “It wasn’t a dream. Robbie was here.

“That’s impossible.” He stretched across the bed and rubbed her shoulder as she huddled on the ground. “Didn’t you say she died of anaphylaxis years ago?”

“She was my best friend.  It was my fault,” she whispered. Whether awake or asleep, guilt always managed to worm its way into her psyche.

“You had no way of knowing the gravy contained nuts. No one could’ve guessed.”

“I need to go for a run.” Paulina scrambled to her feet and headed to the closet, her bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor. Her nightie dropped to her ankles and she pulled a sports bra over her head.

“Why don’t you come back to bed and try a different workout?”

She glanced over her shoulder. Though tempted by his teasing smile, she held firm. “I’m suffocating. I need fresh air.”

“I’ll wait right here.”

She pulled on jogging shorts and grabbed her running shoes and socks. “Maybe you should go home.” She kissed his forehead. “See ya.”


After fifteen minutes, Paulina slowed to a stroll. She fought to catch her breath. Is this how Robbie felt?


Paulina stopped and looked over her shoulder for the source of the voice. The only people around congregated near a group of children playing soccer. No one paid her any mind. She shook her head and continued to a park bench to rest.

Once seated, she leaned over and dropped her head between her knees. Her heart thudded against her breastbone with such ferocity, she half-expected the bone to crack. She tried to soothe her panic, but once again, her thoughts drifted to Robbie. Did her heart feel like it would explode?

“It hurt worse than knowing your best friend betrayed you.”

Paulina’s eyes widened.

“You pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow.”

“R-R-Robbie?” Paulina’s stomach churned and nausea crept upward. “It can’t be.” The clouds shifted, casting an ominous shadow on the ground. A prickling sensation inched up her left arm.

“I’ve waited six years, six months and six days. The man-beast promised the time would come. I’d begun to doubt and thought I’d been betrayed again, but indeed, he planted the seed of guilt and fed it until it flourished.”

“I-I couldn’t go through with our plan.  It didn’t feel right.”

“We almost had it all. We could’ve had it all.

“Robbie, I’m sorry.  I feared you’d go through with it anyway, so I added crushed cashews to the gravy.  It was an impulsive move that I regret.” Paulina covered her face with her hands to hide her tears. “I miss you so much!”

“Me too.”

The sun shone through the clouds again. Paulina felt her guilt ease into a peace she hadn’t felt in years. She rested her back on the bench, lightheaded- almost giddy. She felt a pinch on her arm, followed by an intense burning sensation coursing through her veins. Her throat tightened and panic rose.

“I forgive you, but I made a deal that can’t be undone.”

Paulina tried to form words.

“Her lips are blue!” A shrill voice shouted. “Call 9-1-1!”

She felt breath slide down her throat and compressions on her chest. The sun’s brightness became more intense. For an amount of time she couldn’t gauge, she basked in the radiating heat. Then, she heard a man’s voice announce, “time of death: 8:53 AM; anaphylaxis.”

Is this how Robbie felt?

This time, she had no answer.


This is my response to the Speakeasy weekly prompt, which is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 644) (1) using “The clouds shifted, casting an ominous shadow on the ground.” anywhere in the piece, AND (2) making some kind of reference to the music prompt, which is Adele’s Rolling in the Deep.  Oh, and as an added challenge, it’s the last week of “family-free” writing, which means no family relationships.

The challenge is open to anyone, so if you’re curious, click the badge below to check out the guidelines and link your own story!

Best Friends (Gargleblaster #157)

I see her whenever I wear Keds, eat Hawaiian pizza, or glimpse the half-heart charm in my jewelry box with the worn letters:


I wonder if she kept the other half.

“No,” I answer. “I haven’t seen Mary in years.”




gargle157This is my response to the Gargleblaster weekly prompt, which is to write a 42 word answer to this question:  Do you see her much?

While my response is fiction, I am sometimes reminded of friends no longer part of my life.  I know some friendships are just for a season, but they do cross my mind once in a while.  I also owned a “Best Friends” necklace, but it was gold.  I think it’s an ‘eighties’ thing :)

This challenge is open to anyone, but you have to think (and link) fast – the challenge closes once there are 42 responses linked.  Click here to post your own link!

Open To Interpretation – Speakeasy #155

Signs are there... but open to interpretation
Signs and people:  open to interpretation

“Without a word, she dropped to the ground.” I took a drink of iced tea. “Such a bizarre dream… I have no idea what it means.”

“A wooden cheetah climbed the tree?” Pam tilted her head to the side and scrunched her face.

“Yeah. She almost reached the wooden eagle, but then she just stopped, leaped from the trunk, and ran away lightning fast.”

She shook her head. “That is strange. Cheetahs don’t even climb trees.”

“Whatever. Maybe it was jaguar or a leopard. That’s not the point.”

“Oh yes, the point is you give up too soon.” She jabbed a ketchup-dipped fry in my direction.


“The leopard almost reached her goal and then turned tail. That, my friend, is you.”

“Maybe she decided she wasn’t hungry.”

“Doubt it. Leopards are hunters by instinct.”

“Maybe I’m the eagle.”

Pam laughed. “Nope. Eagles symbolize freedom. You’ve trapped yourself.”

“Maybe the leopard decided the bird wasn’t worth the effort,” I said.

“Or she was afraid of what would happen if she actually caught it.”

I rolled my eyes. “It was just a stupid dream. Can we talk about something else?”

“You’re either stressed about that job offer in Chicago or the lack of proposal from Ian- or both.”

“You got all that from a dream?”

Pam looked over the rim of her eyeglasses. “It makes more sense than the literal interpretation of wooden animals in a tree. The subconscious never rests and our conscious worries tend to manifest in our dreams. The way I see it–”

“Okay, okay. I am a little anxious. Just stop already.”

Pam smiled… her smug smile. I hated that one.

“I don’t think Ian will ever be ready to commit.” I picked the sesame seeds off my burger bun and dropped them into a pile on my plate. “I’m done wasting my time.”

“Then why not take the job in Chicago?”

“I like it here.”

“You like the safety of here.”

“Dang it, Pam! Stop analyzing me.” Her scrutiny always made me squirm, mostly because, as my best friend of fifteen years, she pegged me more than I planned to admit.

“Fine, but you really should find out why the leopard turned away.”

“Right. I’ll go to bed tonight and tune myself into the dream channel and pick up where it left off. Better yet, I’ll chase the wooden leopard down and ask her why she didn’t devour the eagle.”

“Funny,” Pam said in a sarcastic tone. Then she shrugged. “Maybe you should stay. That way, we can still discuss your deep-seeded insecurities over lunch.”

I sighed. “Chicago might not be so bad.”


This is my response to Speakeasy’s weekly writing prompt.  The challenge this week is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is less- 438 words, to be exact) (1) using “Without a word, she dropped to the ground.” as the first sentence, AND (2) make some sort of reference to the photo prompt (which is posted on the Speakeasy site.)

The challenge is open to everyone, so if you want to play along, click the badge below to check out the guidelines.  Stories can be written and posted on your blog now, but we can’t add our link to Speakeasy until Tuesday.

Thanks for stopping by!


Not-So-Brilliant Idea – Speakeasy #135

I heard the three knocks on my door and knew my best friend, Beth, had come to rescue me.  The thumps reverberated in my head as I swayed and stumbled to the door.  Three more raps sounded, only louder.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I hollered, palms on my throbbing temples.  I fumbled with the chain lock until my thumb and index finger decided to coordinate with each other.  I opened the door.

“Oh my heavens!  You look like–” Beth leaned forward and sniffed.  “Laura, how much rum have you had?”

I shrugged.  I honestly didn’t know.

She stepped inside, closed the door and guided me to the couch.  On the coffee table, she noticed the Captain Morgan.

Glass bottle in hand, Beth asked, “You didn’t drink this whole thing tonight did you?”

I grabbed it and lifted it to my lips.  With a tilt of my head, the last swigs of sweet liquid drained down my throat.  “I did now,” I said, passing the empty to her with one hand and wiping my mouth with the back of my other.

She shook her head and set the bottle on the table.  “So what happened?  You sounded so upset; I got here as fast as I could.”

I groaned.  I’d hoped I downed enough rum to dull the humiliation, but I didn’t.  “I was listening to my Sarah McLachlan CD…”

Beth put her hand on my arm.  “It wasn’t ‘Angel’ was it?  Did you swallow any pills?”

The alarm in her voice sent me into a fit of drunken giggles.  Finally, I caught my breath.  “No.  ‘I Will Remember You’.”

Her eyes widened and she let out a long sigh.  “No… you didn’t call Chas,” she checked her watch, “at two a.m.”

“It was probably closer to one.  But I had to- I made a big mistake.  I shouldn’t have broken up with him.”

“Laura, that was three years ago!”

My cheeks colored.  “Well, I told him I still loved him and wanted to feel his skin against mine again.  I said I wanted to be his only one.”  I gulped.  “Then I think I sang him the chorus.”

She winced.  After several seconds, she asked, “Aaaand what did he say?”

I burst into tears and leaned into Beth’s offered hug.  After a few minutes, I raised my head from my best friend’s tear-soaked t-shirt.  “He didn’t say anything.  But his wife took the phone and told me to never call him again.”

“Oh God, he’s married?”  Beth’s jaw hung slack.

I nodded.  My senses dulled, but the sting of embarrassment wasn’t the least bit affected by the rum.

She shook her head and frowned.  “I can’t believe you called him in the first place.”

“At the time, it seemed like a brilliant idea,” I snapped.

Beth’s voice took on a soothing tone.  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.  We all make mistakes.” She added, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, though.”

“Uh-huh.”  I closed my eyes to the blurring room and moaned.  “I’ll never mix alcohol with Sarah McLachlan again.”


This is my response to the Speakeasy prompt which was to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 509) using “At the time, it seemed like a brilliant idea.” anywhere AND make some sort of reference to the music prompt (“I Will Remember You” by Sarah McLachlan.)

Click the badge below to check out the Speakeasy submission guidelines.  You’re invited to submit your own response.  (Come on, you know you want to :))

speakeasy2(Thanks to everyone who read, commented, or voted for my story, “Revenge” last week.  It was voted in first place and was the Editor’s Pick as well.  It was fun to write, and I’m so glad you enjoyed the story!)