Flash Fiction - Romance Writers Weekly #lovewritechat

This week we are small but mighty group, carrying on the Romance Writers Weekly traditional Tuesday hop!  Fiona Riplee set this challeng:

Your setting: woods, 3 AM. Write a Flash Fiction of 500 words or less that includes the words bubbles, mindful, and deep.

If you joined me from Tracey Gee -  wasn’t that interesting? Here’s my take:

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She loved camping. Love the solitude, the silence of the woods, the snap of a campfire, the utter restfulness of disconnecting from a wired world.

She didn’t enjoy crawling out of a warm sleeping bag in order to use the outhouse at three a.m.

Bubbles of discomfort gurgled in her gut. She really shouldn’t have had that “just one more” S’more before bed. But there hadn’t been anyone around to warn her not to, and she’d never been able to resist temptation. The sugary concoction has tasted great going down, but she was paying for it now.

Mindful of the roots and rocks setting traps for her steps, she picked her way along the moonlit path. Deep shadows clung under the evergreens arching over. The trees held a muttered conversation as needles rustled in the slight breeze. The skin on the back of her neck prickled deliciously and she grinned. She’d always loved scary movies. What a perfect setting for a maniac with a chainsaw.

A few minutes later she left the confines of the outhouse, feeling much better in her gut, but still enjoyably uneasy in her mind. She scurried down the path back to camp, casting glances over her shoulder, the feeling of eyes on her back stronger than ever. Kicking off her shoes, she unzipped the tent and quickly crawled in, zipping it shut behind her as quickly as she could.

“What the hell?” grunted a gruff, sleep-deepened voice.

She shrieked, one hand flying to her chest to keep her heart from exploding, the other rising up in front of her to ward off attack. A lantern flashed on and she narrowed her eyes against the glare. She heard the crinkling of nylon over the pounding of her pulse, and a large form rose up only an arm’s length away.

Her brain scrambled from true fright, she managed to find a few words. “What are you doing in my tent?”

“Your tent? I don’t think so, babe.” The light swooped up. Her eyes followed the spill of illumination down a firm, muscled arm, to a bare chest sprinkled with blond hair, up a hard, uncompromising chin until she met a cold blue gaze. Only the tousled hair falling over high forehead looked soft and inviting.

The rest of the man said “Keep Away. Danger Ahead.”

Too bad she’d always liked danger.

What do you think? I loved to read your comments. Then be sure to move on to Carolyn Spear as she’s next on the hop!