Flash Fiction Friday: Meeting a Stranger


Welcome to Throwback Thursday! I hope you’ve had a wonderful week, and have fun plans lined up for the weekend! I’ll be digging into some writing this weekend. I have a bunch of stories demanding to be finished and published! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this week’s #TBT post!



Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

I have dubbed this day: Flash Fiction Friday.  I will be sharing original Flash Fiction pieces (short stories between 300 – 500 words in length) written by myself and some of my fellow writers on Fridays.  Today’s piece is called, “Meeting a Stranger.” I hope you enjoy it!

Meeting a Stranger


All I wanted was the truth and a piece of it was finally coming to meet me. I sat at a wooden table pretending to read an article on my tablet. The words and images were fuzzy.  I couldn’t focus. My palms were sweaty and my stomach was turning.  The smell of coffee and danishes should have relaxed me a little, but the fluttering in my stomach increased every time someone walked through the door.  Mom told me he died in a workplace accident shortly after I was born. I found out a few weeks ago why she lied…

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It was like an out-of-body experience. I saw it happening, I knew I was the one driving, I saw the police lights, and an officer on the driver’s side speaking with the occupant. I tried to stop, swerve, so I wouldn’t hit the police car, but it happened. I didn’t notice the officer standing on the passenger side of the car, next to the guard rail of the bridge until it was too late. I saw him leap out of the way, over the rail as my car made impact with the parked police car. Shit! I was going to jail. What a way to end an already crappy day. I killed a cop. They were going to give me the max. “Cop Killer” was just added to my ever-growing rap sheet.

My head was spinning. Through my alcohol and collision induced fog, I looked up as was the other officer running towards me, gun drawn and screaming for me to put my hands where he could see them. I was rummaging through my purse to find some gum or a breath mint to mask the alcohol on my breath. I’d tell he officer I was tired, worked a long shift. I could not be brought in for DUI again.

My car door opened and the officer dragged me out of my car. I screamed and flailed my arms in surprise. My hand connected with flesh. He threw me to the ground and screamed for me to stay down. Great. DUI, murder and assault of an officer. I wasn’t just going to jail, they were going to put me under the jail. I threw up. It stung my nose and made my eyes water. Everything after that was blur. There was shouting, flashing lights, officers and paramedics speaking into radios.

They asked me for my information and discovered the vehicle wasn’t mine, it wasn’t insured, and my license was suspended. My sister didn’t know I borrowed her car. She was going to kill me. Maybe jail was the safest place for me. I was definitely on my way back to rehab. I could not even begin to imagine what my sponsor was going to say to me. I was shoved into the back of a police car with my hands cuffed behind me.  Paramedics and other officers gathered by the guard rail and focussed their lights on the area below the overpass. I didn’t need to see what they were seeing. Their body language at the guard rail sobered me up. I was worried about jail time, but someone was going to have to deliver bad news to that officer’s family. I started to cry. What did I do? What did I do?

What Comes Around


I’ve been using an app called Timehop for a few days. It goes into the archives of your selected social networks and pulls up pasts post. You can enjoy the trip down memory lane alone, or repost it and share it with your friends. Well, today Timehop pulled up the link to this post! The Timehop Elves are on their “A” game today! Enjoy!


Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:


I was running late again.  Tardiness is never a good thing, but it’s even worse when the workplace is in an uproar. I work for Jessup & Jessup, a privately owned marketing and consulting firm in Greenville, Delaware. In addition to maintaining our normal office duties, the firm just underwent a major audit and we have just been bought by a larger firm.  Details were being closely guarded by the bosses, putting the entire office on edge.  Layoffs were sure to follow.  The official announcement of the merger was being made to public today. This was not the time to stick out like a sore thumb.

I rushed across the parking lot and into the building.  Members of the Board of Directors from both companies, and members of the media filled the small lobby. I elbowed my way through the crowd and made my way onto the elevator, clutching a…

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The Bridge to Freedom


Happy Thursday! Today’s #TBT piece is about the past. There are many who say we should forget this period of history because it was ugly and is painful. It’s important to continue to tradition of passing the stories from one generation to the next.

Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

Grand-daddy always told us stories
Of his days as a slave and a share cropper.
To look at him,
You would never know
That he could be forced to submit
to someone who claimed ownership over him.
He was a tall, muscular man
Who walked with his shoulders back
And his head held high.
Who could rule over him?
But it happened.
He was pulled away from his wife
And children,
Sold to another home,
Miles away from the ones his loved.
He was made to work in the fields,
In the heat,
With a sack to collect the harvest
Over his shoulder and his back bent.
He told us that the work was hard.
The overseers were harder
And would walk the lash across his back
Until his shirt was tattered,
And the flesh on his back opened up,
Leaving crimson stains
On the fabric.
He said,

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The Lash


It’s been a busy summer and I have neglected you all for to long! But I am still here!

It’s Throwback Thursday! You know what that means! I pull something from the archives to share with you all! This piece is one of my favorites. I thought it was worth sharing again! Enjoy!

Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

We stood face to face
Taking in every detail
Admiring every feature.
Romantic multi-tasking
At it’s finest.
Our eyes
Fell on each other’s lips
Often in that short
Not wanting to seem
We quickly diverted our eyes,
Laughing nervously,
Looking away
And then back at each other.
Then you saw it
And made your move.
You pulled me close and whispered,
“Don’t move,”
You puckered your lips,
And gently blew the stray lash
Off my cheek
As if you were performing delicate surgery.
And then,
You stole a kiss
And my heart
In one swift, smooth motion.
Then you stepped back
With a look of satisfaction on your face
And smiled.
I smiled
And looked away
As if it were the first time I’d been kissed
And quietly hoped
For another lash to fall.

 2011 Nike Binger Marshall

Bone Necking by Leroy Campbell

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The Living and the Dead


Today is Throwback Thursday, the day I share a post from the past!

I don’t know why, but I have been thinking a lot about my grandfather lately. He passed when I was just a kid. I found several pictures of him when I visited my parents last week and took a few snapshots of the pictures. I still miss him. He would have been head over heels for his great-granddaughter! I know this for sure!

Today’s throwback post isn’t exclusively about my granddad, it’s about the what happens after death. I’d love to hear your thoughts and stories.




Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

Death is a hard sounding, very final, very cold word. Most of us learned to fear that word at a young age. Many of our parents try to shield us from it. It was a topic discussed in hushed tones as if it were some kind of scandal. Our earliest understanding of death leads us to characterize it as the enemy of life, when it really is a part of life. I don’t recall having a serious fear of death as a child, although I know I did have a fear at one time. I can’t honestly say that I don’t have any fear of death now. Human nature causes us all to wonder about the when and how our lives will end, but aside from that unknown, I accept death as a part life.

I recently watched a documentary on PBS called, “The Undertaking.” It made me…

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Things Lovers Say


Well, it’s Throwback Thursday! Time for me to share a piece from the archives! I smile when I read this particular piece. As much as this can be read as poetry between two people in relationship, it’s very much a piece about a one-on-one relationship with God. These are my own words coming back to convict me! How do I expect a relationship with God to work, if I’m not giving Him my time and attention? :)

Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

How can you say you are lonely

When I’m standing right here?

I try to have conversations with you all the time

But you just ignore me.

Sometimes say you’ll listen

But most times

It’s just lip service.

I’m not asking for much,

A little time,

A little attention,

But you treat me like a genie in a bottle.

You think, if you rub me the right way

From time to time

I’ll be satisfied

And give you whatever you ask for.

Sometimes I do it

Because I love you

And I want you to have the best.

Sometimes it’s a test

To see if you will say thank you

And reciprocate.

You usually don’t.

When you do

It’s just you being polite

Or glad that I got your butt out of trouble

One more time.

I should leave.

But I promised you that I wouldn’t.

You make me feel…

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