The Black Knight by Fleur Lind, strawberry daiquiri

 

It was the most unlikely relationship, ever.

Ruby’s mother Rona said it would never work. She had heard and knew the age-old saying ‘‘opposites attract’ but this was pushing it a bit far.  All Rona wanted was for their beautiful daughter Ruby, to be happy, healthy, and content like any parent, but Rona could not, regardless of how hard she tried to remain positive, see how this courtship could play out to become a blossomingly beautiful union.

How could it work when Ruby was flamboyant, noisy and lively and Bronson was the quiet suave type?

Bronson didn’t have to say much for Ruby to hang on to his every word. He was absurdly good-looking and his demeanour said it all. Ruby was smitten, so any kind, or for that matter, firm words of advice or caution, wisdom from her parents would not have been received well.

 

Ruby’s father Rex was as sceptical as his wife, regarding their daughter’s new beau, but one look at the size of Bronson’s father caused him to feel extremely reluctant to interfere. To calm the maternal waters, Rex did his utmost to reassure Rona that Ruby was a sensible girl, albeit lovestruck, but she wasn’t the type to make bad decisions.  Rona expressed her concern when matters of the heart are all consuming and overwhelm all logical thought. Ruby’s older sister Rhana had been down that road. Rex sighed and agreed, and had told her not to worry; it was best they left the young ones to sort it out.

 

Time ticked on, and the gossipy chatter in the neighbourhood had settled down, as it was obvious to them all that Ruby and Bronson were blissfully happy together, thus making the gossip group industrious in listening out for a new story or starting one themselves. 

 

Ruby and Bronson were approaching their first year together, which filled Ruby and her parents, and Bronson, with joy to see things going so smoothly.

Ruby had a small gift for Bronson, wrapped in a black ribbon. Bronson also had the perfect gift for Ruby. In his typically suave style, he had given his gift a great deal of thought as he wanted it to be remembered and treasured long after being received.  His gift wouldn't need ribbons and bows; it would be complete in its natural form, without the sparkly paper. This worked nicely for Bronson as he didn't ‘do’ sparkly at all.

 

As their anniversary loomed closer, Ruby’s anticipation was palpable. She marked the days off her calendar, with the date highlighted with a bright pink heart. Ruby loved hues of every colour, but having Bronson in her life had added a subtle tone of charm, passion and mystique to her otherwise colourful life.

 

On the big night when the moon was full and bright against the smudges of cloud, with a gentle warm puff of breeze, he gave Ruby her present.

He told her she would not know any sensation quite like it. He backed this bold statement with how she would feel as free as a bird. This was quite profound considering she was well-tuned to that feeling. Being a Rainbow Lorikeet offered flight and the freedom of the skies. The world was her oyster, or nectar, as it were.

           

Ruby climbed on Bronson’s strong muscly black back and hung on tight with her nails. Bracing herself and feeling fit to burst with excitement, he stretched his wide black strong wings. Quietly and effortlessly they lifted into the air.

With her nails securely holding onto Bronson’s wings, Ruby bravely opened her wings, stretching them out freely to the moon. They flew straight across the luminous celestial ball, and the stars seemed to dance around them.  With the slightest flick of his wings, they soared in the expansive darkness, the Moon as bright as a beacon. Then joining his clan as the black cloud of bats silently graced the night sky.

 

The night air was deliciously fresh on Ruby’s face, and although warm, her senses were exhilarated, giving her a shudder of pure delight. Her eyes opened so as not to miss the beauty of her beau beneath her, and her beak opened slightly as she gave a sigh filled with pleasure.

 

Bronson was right. Although they shared many pleasures, including feasting on fruit-filled platters, and quiet nights in the family tree, snuggled with his strong but gentle warmth. But there was no feeling quite like a bat flight at night.

Her ‘night rider’ had delivered the perfect gift and the ride of her life.

About the author

Fleur is a Kiwi, living in SE Queensland. She enjoys the fun, challenge, and possibilities of short stories. She is a member of the local writer's group - Rose City Writers in Warwick. For more of Fleur's work: fleursfabulousfables.wordpress.com 

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Lily Does Not Believe in Magic

 

by Lauren Harkawik

a strawberry daiquiri, perhaps. probably in a plastic cup, probably melting too quickly.

 

Up until one minute earlier, Lily knew Jake would have said it was the trip of a lifetime. And yet there was Lily, running. First through the lobby, then behind a gate, then down a path that cut through some shrubs, then into a hallway behind the kitchen of a beach-themed buffet, and then into a parking lot. The most boring parking lot. Hah! All that show, and this is where the employees parked? Sorry -- cast members. This is where the cast members parked?

Jake hadn't done anything wrong, really, which didn't change the fact that now Lily, who less than a year ago eyed him at his first staff meeting, ogled him the next day and then the day after that straddled him on the "vegan leather” couch she considered the showstopper of her apartment, was running from the vacation they’d planned together. And now she was folded over, laughing at the absurdity of it in a parking lot — the most boring parking lot — in what was, it was suddenly deliriously clear, just central Florida.

They had done the normal vacation stuff. They flew in relative peace, each doing their own thing. Picking up the rental car had been a headache, which was to be expected, and, after falling all over each other the second they got to the hotel room, they’d headed to a dinner at The Rainforest Cafe, of all places.

The restaurant, like most things they would encounter in the coming days, was not just a restaurant, but an experience. There was ambient rainforest noise. Running water. The floors and ceiling were completely covered with faux flora and, even worse, faux fauna that demanded attention. The waiter was too chipper and, too often, the lighting in the whole restaurant would change and the “sky” would fill with thunder and lightning.

Jake ate it up - not just the food, which was serviceable edging on not, but the show. When the first thunderstorm happened, Lily was horrified to find, as her eyes rounded home base from a big eye roll, that Jake’s eyes were wide with wonder. She subsequently saw his eyes light up at a robot toucan, a robot monkey, and a brownie “volcano” with a sparkler in it. And, well, she hated it. Not the show — the show was fine, whatever. She hated how much he loved it. Like, oh my god.

Now, that might have been a passing thing, had they not been in Walt Disney World, a place where the show is quite literally wrapped around every interaction. Save for the hotel — though he got a kick out of Mickey’s face embossed on the bars of soap — every minute of their so-called vacation was focused on amusement. He was amused, so purely and so innocently, and she just found it grotesque. She grew less attracted to him with every glimmer that entered, and became permanently affixed to, his eye.

What had she expected? Well first of all, she didn’t know she didn’t like men who loved cheesy things. She’d never thought to think about it. But if it really came down to it, she would have said she expected him to have the relationship she did to it. Like, ok, they fine job with the animatronics in the EPCOT retrospective of American history bafflingly co-hosted by Ben Franklin and Mark Twain. But it wasn’t so good that Lily forgot about the fact it was Fake-with-a-capital-F or that the whole show was a disaster when it came to race, gender, and white American exceptionalism. Jake, however, looked at the same animatronics and under his breath — which is how you know someone’s really being honest; they’re saying it to themselves — said, “Oh, wow.” Like he’d just seen something groundbreaking. Like it was aliens — real ones! — or an actual live ghost. Not a robot core wrapped in soft latex painted to look like the flesh of Ben Franklin and his apparent good bud, Mark Twain.

She tried to bury it, the grotesque feeling. Over and over. Because Jake was nice (that may have been a warning sign, had she thought about it) and she’d dated so many jerks. In their seven months of dinners, hikes, movies, sex, and brunch, she’d come to enjoy his company more than she enjoyed most people’s and she just figured that’s what it was supposed to feel like. Love, that is. Someday she’d realize that at the point she and Jake were being simultaneously mildly entertained and completely wowed at EPCOT, she’d never actually been in love before and certainly wasn’t then either. But she didn’t know it then.

Here’s what put her other the top, and it’s sad, because it could’ve been a nice memory for Jake. They were in the hotel gift shop, which she found tolerable because although they had a whole lot of Mickey Mouse shit in there, it was yacht-club themed and stately. They were wandering around trying to pick out something to bring back for Celia, Lily’s assistant, and Jake mentioned it was his birthday (whoops — this is a detail Lily would gloss over in retellings, but, indeed, it was his 31st birthday) and wouldn’t you know it, the cashier (or — cast cashier?) must have overheard him because seconds after he mentioned it, her phone rang, and she said hello, and then she said one moment, and then she said,

“Sir?”

It took a few “Sir?”s before Jake realized she was talking to him. Then she handed the phone to him and he listened and then his eyes lit up the biggest they had the whole trip (that’s saying a lot) and he said, “OhMyGodLily, it’s him.”

“Who?” Lily asked. Embarrassingly, her mind went straight to Steve, their boss, which didn’t make sense considering Jake was afraid of him and, just then, he had whatever the innocent magic-believing version of an orgasm was painted all over his face.

“Mickey,” he said, like it should have been obvious. “He...he somehow knows it’s my birthday.”

And then he jumped. Like, this tiny, gleeful jump. His feet left the ground.

Lily felt her stomach flip. It was too much. Too. Much. And in what for someone else would be a moment she wasn’t proud of but for Lily was a badge to wear at dinner parties for years to come, she turned on her heels and ran. First through the lobby, then behind a gate, then down a path that cut through some shrubs, then into a hallway behind the kitchen for the beach-themed buffet, and then into a parking lot. The most boring parking lot. In central Florida.

She folded her body in half and, holding her calves while she stared at the hot pink nail polish she’d gotten at her pre-vacation pedi, she laughed so hard it had the same cathartic effect as sobbing, except that it was completely filled with glee. Unbelievable, she thought, already forgetting him, focusing instead on the fact she was free and alone in a parking lot she wasn’t supposed to be in. When she caught her breath, she called Celia and asked for a new flight home and then she wondered if she could borrow a Mickey costume to get into their room and pack up her stuff. Because — she was sure — Jake would take that at face value. 

 

About the author

Lauren Harkawik is a Vermont-based fiction writer, essayist, and journalist. Her fiction has been published in New Reader Magazine, Goats Milk Magazine, and Sweet Tree Review. Lauren's writing can be found on her website, www.laurenharkawik.com, and Lauren be found on Twitter, too: @laurenharkawik.