[Original] Send No Flowers; Challenge #09 at writerverse
Title: Send no Flowers
Word Count: 181
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): n/a
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): n/a
Summary: Arianna associates the colour red with many things. Roses being one of them.
Notes: The challenge was to use the three words given from this site. The words I got were: shelf, love, bang. This may be a piece I can further work on.
Arianna places the empty vase on the shelf in her kitchen. The blood red of the wilted rose petals is dull, and mars her otherwise pristine white countertop. There was a time when she associated the colour red with love, passion … him.
Now, after one too many broken apologies, one too many threats of violence, one too many times of just knowing he was banging someone else (he denied it, of course; he always had some excuse), she couldn't associate the colour with anything else but … anger, and hatred. She used to believe him when he would apologize.
The apologies came easy to him. Like throwing pennies in a fountain. She used to believe him when he said he loved her, sipping his beer, and plucking the strings of his guitar.
She wasn't sure what was worse, the plucking of the guitar strings, or his flagrant misuse of the word love.
Arianna glances one more time at the roses, before she gathers them up, and dumps them unceremoniously in her garbage can.
The smell of roses still lingers in the air.
Word Count: 181
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): n/a
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): n/a
Summary: Arianna associates the colour red with many things. Roses being one of them.
Notes: The challenge was to use the three words given from this site. The words I got were: shelf, love, bang. This may be a piece I can further work on.
Arianna places the empty vase on the shelf in her kitchen. The blood red of the wilted rose petals is dull, and mars her otherwise pristine white countertop. There was a time when she associated the colour red with love, passion … him.
Now, after one too many broken apologies, one too many threats of violence, one too many times of just knowing he was banging someone else (he denied it, of course; he always had some excuse), she couldn't associate the colour with anything else but … anger, and hatred. She used to believe him when he would apologize.
The apologies came easy to him. Like throwing pennies in a fountain. She used to believe him when he said he loved her, sipping his beer, and plucking the strings of his guitar.
She wasn't sure what was worse, the plucking of the guitar strings, or his flagrant misuse of the word love.
Arianna glances one more time at the roses, before she gathers them up, and dumps them unceremoniously in her garbage can.
The smell of roses still lingers in the air.