Left at the Altar

Prompt from The Writer's Block by Jason Rekulak:
Write about a wedding during which a bride or groom changes their mind.
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"Where is Lori?"

Damia looked at their mother and rolled her eyes. Lori had tried to tell mother last night she didn't want this dynastic handfasting but when Carol Raven doesn't wish to hear bad news... Well, ignorance is bliss.

"You know as well as I do mother, she didn't want this. She told you and told you. But you wouldn't let her out of it."

"She ran?"

"Wouldn't you?"

Carol looked her up and down. "You wouldn't have."

"But I wasn't given the option. Was I?"

Damia glanced toward the altar where Trevor Falcon paced. Periodically, he glanced over at his mother who was actually biting her spectacular claws. Anyone who went to the expense of having her nails manicured really should chew on something else when they were nervous...like the furniture.

With a sigh, Damia settled into one of the chairs near the beautifully ornamented altar. For some reason the Falcons were adamant that one of their own must commit to a Raven. Today. She didn't know what the issue was, but if the scowl on Trev's face was any indication, it was big. The Goddess knew she would have accepted Trev in an instant but he'd taken one look at Lori and decided she was the one. Men were such idiots.

"You know where she is. I'm sure of it."

She jumped,looking from her clenched hands to Trev's angry amber eyes. "I don't."

"She's your sister. You must have some idea."

"Why aren't you grilling my mother?"

"Because she wouldn't know a clue if it walked up and introduced itself."

"Well really!" Carol hissed. "And you would? She's been your fiancee for three months. Surely you've had at least one conversation. Didn't you realize she was unhappy?"

Trev tightened his jaw so hard, Damia expected to hear his teeth grind. Why on heaven or earth he wanted to marry into their clan she had no idea, but she was glad his attention moved away from her.

"No, Carol. I did not." He turned to look at his mother, raising his eyebrows. She shrugged, nodded her head in Damia's direction. He sighed, then reluctantly nodded. He turned to Damia. "You'll have to do."

"Do what?"

"I need a mate and you're it. If we can't find your sister, it's your duty to fulfill this contract."

"Now wait just a minute buster..."

He grabbed her hand, dragging her to the altar and the High Priest standing there. "We're ready."

The High Priest frowned at Trev then turned gravely to Damia. "Are you willing to complete this handfasting ceremony in your sister's absence?"

"As her proxy, you mean?"

"No, as the bride."

Damia's jaw dropped, turning to look up at Trev. "You're joking right?"

"I'm not joking, Damia."

Damia laughed.

"This is no laughing matter."

"I'm well aware of that, Trev. Why me? Just wait for Lori to come back and make up with her."

"I need a Raven bride before sundown and you're the only marriagable Raven woman here so I'll marry you."

"This is insane."

"The contract specifies a Raven bride. It doesn't name Lori."

"But you picked Lori."

"Now, I'm picking you."

"Trev, you are such a jerk."

"I know. We only need to stay handfasted for a year and a day."

"I can stay here?"

"No, we must live together. It's...required."

"Why?"

"It just is." He finally met her gaze, running his large hand through his thick black hair. "Look, I'm sorry. But I have to do this."

"Live together? Is that all?"

He looked away. "If that's all you want."

"It is. I'm not going to be your substitute for Lori." She laughed bitterly. "Goddess knows I bear no resemblance to her."

Lori was tall, willowy and blond. Gorgeous. The worst part was that not only was her sister a beauty on the outside, but on the inside too. Sensitive. Sweet. Damia had never been able to compete on any level.

"No, you don't look like her and I'm not asking you to be her."

Damia met his gaze again. She had to be the stupidest woman on the planet, but at least the Ravens and the Falcons lived in different cities. Different states. She could do this. She should. She'd just gotten "downsized" at work and she hadn't told her mother yet. Now she wouldn't have to.

"All right. For a year and a day. No more. And we have separate bedrooms."

"Agreed."

Damia's lips twisted. Yeah, he was probably thrilled about that particular condition. But no way was she going to be a duty screw. She turned to face the High Priest and held out her hand.

"Okay, tie us up and get this thing done."

A Bonding Experience

First of all - what is flash fiction? Visit this great Web site for an explantation: http://www.fictionfactor.com/guests/flashfiction.html


In brief it is a fictional story that is 300-1000 words in length. I'm not sure I can get as short as 1000 words, but I'll keep it short. For me that's very good. I'm a wordy gal. But flash fiction should have all the things any other fiction has: characters, setting, plot - basically a beginning, middle, and an end.


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Prompt from The Pocket Muse by Monica Wood:

Think of a mismatch between a person and a place. It may be someone in the wrong house, the wrong job, the wrong school, the wrong political party, the wrong club, the wrong chair, the wrong...




Sarah looked down at the address in her hand as she walked into the old theater building. There was no way this was First National Bank. Crap. Either she wrote down the address wrong or... There was an odd silence and she looked up to find a roomful of eyes fastened on her. She blinked.


"Miss Moneypenny? You are here for Miss Moneypenny aren't you? She's missing." A white haired man with a fake British accent approached, waving his hands.


"Miss who?"


"Miss Moneypenny. Go over there with the others, we're ready to start and we need our Miss Moneypenny in order to begin."


Now wait a minute. Wasn't Moneypenny the secretary in James Bond? The lovesick one? No frigging way.


"Yes, you'll do. Suit. Nice touch, dear." He patted her shoulder patronizingly.


"Who are you?"


He struck a pose, grasping the lapel of his jacket. "Bond. James Bond."


"Um... There must be some mistake..." Oh God. Him? Tall, skinny, white hair? James Bond was Sean Connery or Pierce Brosnan. This guy was soooo not James Bond.

He waved her away and to avoid the flailing hands, she joined the others. All of them looked a bit shell-shocked so maybe she wasn't the only one in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now what?

"Let's begin. I've called you all here to organize my next mission. Q, what do you have for me?"

The crowd exchanged glances. Was this guy for real? Did he really think they were in a James Bond novel? The white haired man strutted over to stand in front of a tall, handsome dark haired man. Damn. Talk about role-reversal. One of them was James, but it wasn't the guy who thought he was.

"Well, Q, out with it, man. I need some spectacular gadgets to take on the villain of Grosvenor Square."

"Who?" Q asked.

Sarah held back a sigh at 'Q's question. Even his voice was wonderful. Now he was a Bond she could realistically be lovesick for...if she had to be. Not that she wanted to be Moneypenny or anything.

"C'mon Q. I need to get started. After all, the Queen depends on my loyal service."

Sarah rolled her eyes. Yeah, right. If Queen Elizabeth depended on this guy, she was doomed to disappointment. Time to end this farce.

"James, I have something to tell you." Sarah strode forward, striking a painfully dramatic pose as she knew it was the only kind this guy would understand.

"You love me. I know. I've always known, Moneypenny."

She frowned at him. If there was one thing she hated it was a smug expression and he wore one on his pursed little mouth.

"No, James. I don't love you." The way his face fell almost made her relent until she caught the dancing eyes of Q. "I'm in love with Q. I always have been but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I've strung you along. Q and I are leaving the Queen's service today and never coming back." She patted the man's arm. "I'm sorry to break it to you so publicly."

"But this is not true. It can't be. I've planned everything so carefully." He stamped his feet like a two year old denied his favorite toy.

"I'm sorry, James." She grabbed Q and planted a big wet kiss on him. He pulled her close kissing her back with a pleasing thoroughness. When he lifted his head, she stared into his eyes and he grinned.

"She's absolutely right, old man. We're going to be together. The rest of you, come join us for a drink at a nearby pub."

"Sorry James, you're on your own with the villain of Grosvenor Square. Hope it all works out." She grabbed Q's hand and dragged him from the room while the other confused people followed in their wake.

Outside on the pavement, the others left. Ran, actually. She could hear "James" ranting and raving inside.

"We'd better go, Q." She tried to pull her hand from his, but he didn't let go. She met his dark gaze, holding back a sigh. Too gorgeous for her.

"Join me for a drink, Moneypenny?"

Sarah grinned. "Why not? You can show me all your geeky gadgets over a mug of ale."

"Sounds like a bang up good time."

Flash Fiction

Hey guys,
We are doing a fun exercise at The Otherworld Diner this week. We are all taking a turn at writing flash fiction based on some prompts created by our "Day Shift Manager" Jody Wallace. My entry for the week is titled, "Holding Out for a Hero." Let me know if you enjoy it! Post comments here and/or there.