All posts filed under: Fiction

Dinner Plans: Short Story by Candice Coates

Dinner Plans She sat perched on the edge of the table, the tight fold of her interwoven fingers expressed the nervousness that had been concealed in the even tone of her voice and the placid look on her face. Turning fully towards her, he paid closer attention to what she was saying.  For a brief second he hoped he’d heard her incorrectly, but gazing into her eyes he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. “Hannah, you didn’t.” He, unlike Hannah, didn’t try to hide his nerves, they flashed in the pale grey of his eyes and radiated clear to the tip of the butcher knife in his hand. “Dad, the knife. The knife!” Hannah hoped off the table and pried it from his hands placing the parsley coated blade on the chopping block. Tanner wondered by her sudden stillness if she felt as if she were on the chopping block. He was certain she did. He had asked her to be at her best tonight, nagged really, and had been doing so for weeks. It had been …

Me Too: A Short Story

 She couldn’t stop laughing, not after the words that had just arbitrarily slipped from her mouth, and especially not with him laughing as well.  It was an unfortunate nervous tick of hers–incessant laughter. She’d had it since she was a child. When she was nervous, she laughed. Scared. She laughed. Angry. She laughed. She even laughed when she as sad. Her round of giggles at her grandmother’s funeral had her ushered out of the wake and into the parking lot. Sure, she laughed like most people, when most people laughed, but when she was undeniably embarrassed, she laughed non-stop with horrifying honks and snorts. She didn’t know if he was laughing with her, for nervous sake, or if her mortifying animal sounds were causing him to laugh at her. But what if he was laughing out of pity, laughing because of what she’d said? The thought made her choke and pressed tears from her eyes. They tumbled down her cheeks into the chlorinated water between them. She pressed her eyes closed, too afraid to look at …

More Than Hours: A Short Story

He stumbled through the darkness, the light at his back forcing everything into angrier shadows that toyed with his perception. His fingers curved and clawed at nothing as if to anchor himself to where he was. Where was he? He felt as if he’d been in a terrible accident like his body had been jettisoned, head-first through plate glass, accept there was no road nearby, no sound of distress from on-lookers who’d had the misfortune of watching him play with death. No. He was alone, disoriented and meandering through dark woods with the brightest of light ebbing down into a dim glow around him. He stopped and gulped at air, wishing it was water. How he thirsted. His heart thrumming an erratic tattoo in his chest, he lifted his eyes upward and glanced through the canopy of the trees. Dark foliage and branches like skeletal fingers wove above him, yielding very little ground to the setting sun above. It was dusk here. Here, not where he’d been only moments ago. He’d stepped through time. How much time…he …

Silence of Clocks: A Short Story

He silently watched the car shrink away, eaten up by the distance. Strange. Although his lips were unmoving, he had so much he wanted to say. The good thing was that he’d learned long ago to hold his tongue, swallow his errant thoughts and words like creme soda. At that moment, however, the words had the same burn as a straight shot of liquor, nothing but fire upon his throat. He clutched the time peace at his chest. Felt it tick beneath his sweating palm. Its steady cadence like a heartbeat. Time was precious and theirs was just about up. the clock in his hands would go still and history would continue to roll forward…or backward. In his case, it went in every direction, even sideways. That was the way of the Ministry of Time. The linear view of years and moments no longer mattered. Somehow his new perspective didn’t make this part of his job any easier. He sucked in a sudden breath, pressed his eyes shut and clutched the timepiece so fiercely he …

Illusions: Flash Fiction by Candice Coates

They were still following behind. Good. Just a few more miles and all of this would be over soon. She gripped the steering wheel with her lambskin gloves and resisted the urge to gun the gas. Patience, she told her self. She could hold out a little while longer. It also wouldn’t make sense to lose control of the car just because… She blew out another strained breath and peered out her side mirror.  Guilt niggled at her insides. It had been doing so since that entire time and nothing she did could drawn out it sound, not even the radio. She’d long since turned that off. It wasn’t helping. If anything it was making her anxiety worse and the edge to be on the other side of this stretch of road sharper than an executioner’s blade. She eased on the gas as the destination grew larger and the car behind her pulled closer to her bumper. Almost with a battle cry, she thrust her hand beneath her car seat and pulled it out again, …

Certainly Absolutely: Flash Fiction

This wasn’t like the last time he’d kissed her. This time, something about the play of his lips against hers had changed. The gentle ebb and flow between give and take made her toes curl in her ballet flats. She placed her hands on his shoulders to keep herself balanced, lest she melt like a puddle of wax at his feet. The heady scent of his cologne and his masculinity mixed and mingled only to intoxicate her senses further. Oh, but how this moment awakened her and frightened her with the same power. The last time, the first time he’d kissed her, it was little more than a peck on the lips, accidental really. This time he’d slowly snaked his hands around her waist, gazed into her eyes with a mixture of confidence and uncertainty before pulling her into his embrace with his wordless question heard only by her lips. Certainly. Absolutely. The words whispered without sound. She would love him…because she already did. THE END *Every now and again, touches of romance are required to sprinkle the pages …

The Fog: Flash Fiction by Candice Coates

I’m not lost, I just don’t know where I am. I’m not lost, I just don’t know where I am…yet.” He whispered his mantra several more times over, hoping that if he said it enough that the words would become true. Still, the panic that tightened around his throat like a noose would not give. This happened to him occasionally, the mental fog that dropped him into thick darkness only to clear when he was somewhere completely unknown to him. It was his fault, he knew that. He’d gone to a place he’d been warned not to go. To him, however, the warning seemed more like a dare and just couldn’t resist the urge to rebel. “Put to death the flesh…” The fraction of a scripture he’d heard his father pray echoed in his heart, rippling against the pools of panic that sought to drown him. Fidel had allowed his flesh to rule him that night, the night he’d first stepped into the fog. The Stone Room. So many different hidden meanings the name of the …

Debut Novel Coming Winter 2018

Hello Friends and fellow Creatives! It brings me great joy to finally be able to share with you the teaser chapters for my debut novel, coming out Winter 2018, Nexus Gate 4037: The Animal! NG is the very first book in the Ministry of Time Series! Being that this is my very first go at indie-publication, I have found wisdom in taking my time with the process. My desire is to bring you a rich story that keeps you on the edge of your seat while igniting the depths of your imagination. This book is my first ‘hello’ in the publishing world and I want to be heard with clarity. Please enjoy the preview of the novel by reading the teaser chapters, and if you haven’t already, follow my author page, http://www.candicecoates.wordpress.com. The rules of Time Surveillance have been broken. The past has stepped into the future.  The threads of time are now tangled and retribution will be dealt… Will the past devour the future or will they unite in order to survive the threat of the present? …

Fair: Random Words Inspired by Art

Nothing about him was fair, though he was lovely to look at, and that was the cruelty of his form. His stature, his eyes, his lips, his thighs, all of it cried foul because his perfection was purely masculine, undeniably man, but still rivaled the glory of woman. He was lovely, and he knew it. He walked with his head tilted just enough so that his eyes looked down upon all from the slope of his nose. The gesture was unnecessary because he stood nearly a full head and shoulders over all. His way was like that of a peacock, full of pride and glory, yet captivating. His skin was like flawless ebony that glowed from the rays of the sun. He was like the perfect night, challenging the majesty of the day and he was certainly winning. THE BEGINNING… I have no image to share with you all besides the one that I have painted with words. This composition of words came from my meditation upon art, searching for my muse for the next step …

Hopeless: Flash Fiction #AmWriting #MondaysMuse #CreativeWriting

No matter how much he stared outward, no matter how much light he allowed to pierce the darkness of the room through the sheers that blanketed the window, he still could not bring himself to step outside. Was he afraid? Yes. Admitting that he was as full of fear as his bones were of marrow was no hard thing. It was easier than breathing for him. Sometimes even taking in a breath seemed too difficult a feat. This game was best played in the shadows. The less of him that anyone noticed the better. His fingers flinched with the phantom vibration of his mobile phone. He clenched his hands together and felt the familiar sting of tears. He was happy to be in the darkness even though the sun was just outside the window. The darkness hid his fears, his shame, his salty tears. Frustrated with the foolish picture he painted, the loneliness of his empty hands, he snatched the curtains closed cutting off all traces of natural light before throwing himself down onto the …