avatarMay More

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1821

Abstract

understands. Her parents only want the best for her.</p><p id="2f04">“NO!” I shout. “Let’s go. Leave. Just the two of us. Together.”</p><p id="1279">I can’t bear to be without her.</p><p id="7ccc"><i>“That’s not right Jimmy. I have to dance.”</i></p><p id="d527">My eyes sting, as I fight back the hurt.</p><p id="5484">I pull up in the car park of our deserted small town beach. Leaning over, I gently lick the salty tears from her face. My hand begins to shake as I trace the curve of her breast, up across her clavicle to meet the soft area at the base of her throat.</p><p id="3ac7">Softly, our lips meet.</p><p id="bf11">It’s the only way… With increasing pressure, I slowly, but resolutely, strangle the life from my tiny dancer — sucking the<i> last breath out of her, </i>as we kiss.</p><p id="d3d6" type="7">And now, she’s in me.</p><p id="7203">I start up the engine. Stroke her delicate, motionless fingers. Put my foot on the accelerator, and speed towards the cliff edge.</p><p id="9109">We crash through the wooden fence and glide through the air — nothing but the sea below — the sky above — and tiny dancer in my hand.</p><p id="1f41">Flying. Dancing.</p><p id="82fd" type="7">Always with me…</p><p id="a2e5"><b><i>NB: I have had<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65CNtap6bow"> Tiny Dancer</a> as a song worm for over a week. In a bid to exorcise it, I wrote the above micro fiction tale.</i></b></p><p id="25f6"><b><i>More from May…</i></b></p><div id="a9f4" class="link-block"> <a href="https://redemptionmagazine.com/twisting-the-pain-away-a0af942296e6"> <div> <div> <h2>Twisting the Pain Away</h2> <div><h3>You’re one twisted bitch. Jake’s folks have been round. You were in the woods with him. Sucking him off...</h3></div>

Options

          <div><p>redemptionmagazine.com</p></div>
          </div>
          <div>
            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*EftK5JqKbqjioKSHjjOK_g.jpeg)"></div>
          </div>
        </div>
      </a>
    </div><p id="d094"><b><i>Another Tale on Redemption by <a href="undefined"></a></i></b><a href="undefined">Jack Nanuq</a></p><div id="a355" class="link-block">
      <a href="https://redemptionmagazine.com/lifes-a-bitch-part-two-fc162e3f0cf3">
        <div>
          <div>
            <h2>LIFE’S A BITCH — Part Two</h2>
            <div><h3>There was no chance he’d be able to carry her lifeless body that distance. He would have to get her to make the final…</h3></div>
            <div><p>redemptionmagazine.com</p></div>
          </div>
          <div>
            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*EIwktzU3pfNdlQKW9IeIew.jpeg)"></div>
          </div>
        </div>
      </a>
    </div><p id="e170"><i>Transgressive Thursdays submission guidelines are here.</i></p><div id="779d" class="link-block">
      <a href="https://redemptionmagazine.com/submission-guidelines-for-transgressive-thursdays-48ebc8bf430e">
        <div>
          <div>
            <h2>Transgressive Thursdays’ Submission Guidelines</h2>
            <div><h3>Tiny stories that pack a massive punch</h3></div>
            <div><p>redemptionmagazine.com</p></div>
          </div>
          <div>
            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*4tkJ9nAWuhPUHg0uaq6xpg.jpeg)"></div>
          </div>
        </div>
      </a>
    </div></article></body>
Image by Randy Rodriguez from Pixabay

TRANSGRESSIVE THURSDAY, FLASH FICTION

Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer

It was the last time…

I picked Emily up after the dance recital. Her parents had said to take her straight home.

“No disrespect Jimmy, but a bum like you isn’t good enough for our Emily. Bring her back from class, a chance to say goodbye. We’re leaving for the south of France tomorrow. Our summer break will give you the chance to move on. Get a new girl. When we come back, Emily starts with The National. There won’t be time for boyfriends.”

Didn’t they realise watching her dance filled me with pride. She was my tiny dancer.

We’d met last summer in town when I finished a gig at the Empire — I didn’t get many. After, she was waiting by my car with her pirate’s smile.

“I like how you play the guitar. It’s part of you. You play from the inside… out.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I liked the way she felt — from the outside, in — as I pulled down her blue jeans and fucked her on the back seat later that night.

Now ten months on, driving away from the theatre, I tell her this is meant to be our last time.

Tears stream down her face. But she understands. Her parents only want the best for her.

“NO!” I shout. “Let’s go. Leave. Just the two of us. Together.”

I can’t bear to be without her.

“That’s not right Jimmy. I have to dance.”

My eyes sting, as I fight back the hurt.

I pull up in the car park of our deserted small town beach. Leaning over, I gently lick the salty tears from her face. My hand begins to shake as I trace the curve of her breast, up across her clavicle to meet the soft area at the base of her throat.

Softly, our lips meet.

It’s the only way… With increasing pressure, I slowly, but resolutely, strangle the life from my tiny dancer — sucking the last breath out of her, as we kiss.

And now, she’s in me.

I start up the engine. Stroke her delicate, motionless fingers. Put my foot on the accelerator, and speed towards the cliff edge.

We crash through the wooden fence and glide through the air — nothing but the sea below — the sky above — and tiny dancer in my hand.

Flying. Dancing.

Always with me…

NB: I have had Tiny Dancer as a song worm for over a week. In a bid to exorcise it, I wrote the above micro fiction tale.

More from May…

Another Tale on Redemption by Jack Nanuq

Transgressive Thursdays submission guidelines are here.

Transgressive Thursday
Microfiction
Fiction
Flash Fiction
Transgressive Fiction
Recommended from ReadMedium