Thursday, January 7, 2016

Short Story


I remember Jeff saying that I didn't love Monica. I loved the woman she could have been. He reminded me that it wasn't my job to save everybody. I didn't listen to him.

She had me from the first moment I saw her across the crowded cafe in the Village. She was so beautiful- with her long, dark hair and womanly curves- that at first I didn't notice the scar on her left wrist.

When things started getting serious between us, Monica told me how she used to have a drug problem and had slit her wrist in a botched suicide attempt.  She told me she was over all that and I believed her. After all, I had been quite the drinker once upon a time, so who was I to question her recovery?

About a year ago she moved in with me. And life was great. We liked the same movies, listened to the same bands, and I suppose our 8:00 bedtime was fun too. Sure, she had flaws. But her imperfections only made her more human, not less amazing. I couldn't imagine life without her. Then I got home one evening after my shift at Brentano's and she wasn't here. We had plans to watch the mimes in Washington Square, so I checked the machine. No message. No note on the fridge either. I called the art gallery where she worked, but was told she had left over an hour ago.

So now I sit here smoking cheap cigars, emptying another bottle of Kahlua.  Dylan's singing somewhere in the background, but it's not like I care. Monica's missing and I'm the heart-broken schmuck who misses her. But Jeff was wrong. I didn't want to save Monica. I wanted her to save me.


  1. As soon as you mention the "scar on the wrist", I was hooked into the story. Well done. The unspecific ending is a good choice. It leaves chilling possibilities in the mind of the reader.

    Your writing style in this piece is a little like my post for this blog hop, if you'd like to stop by and check it out.

    1. Thank you. Yeah - I'll be checking out the posts on Guilie's list.

  2. This is pitch-perfect. Especially the end. That last paragraph... Those last three sentences... BAM. And we're left wondering. Did she leave, or did she commit suicide? Excellent, excellent flash. Get it published, Mr. Ellipsis. Seriously. (And thank you so, so much for making this a part of the Lost & Found hop. You've no idea how happy it makes me to finally find a post on The View from the 3rd Floor :) )
    Guilie @ Life In Dogs

  3. Nice job. This has a film noirish flavor that I like.

    Arlee Bird
    Tossing It Out
    Wrote By Rote

  4. Sorry I'm so late getting here. My employment schedule has me working 12.5 hour days every Monday through Wednesday (37.5 hours in 3 days), which leaves me no time for anything until Thursdays, when I begin my 4-days "off" from work.

    There's an awful lot to like here. For examples... "long, dark hair and womanly curves"; "8:00 bedtime"; "Brentano's" (I used to be a regular at the one that was located in Westwood Village);"Kahlua", "Dylan"; and that great line "But her imperfections only made her more human, not less amazing."

    I like your avatar, too. I imagine Snoopy must be typing: "It was a bright and sunny day..."

    ~ D-FensDogG
    'Loyal American Underground'

  5. Whoa! Okay - what to do when I feel addicted to you writing? Save me a sip of Kahlua - would you?

    I have three blogs - thank you for stopping by my Battle of the Bands blog!

  6. Another great story and so well written from the beginning you are hooked and the ending makes me want to read more but yet, it's the perfect ending.