T is for Throwback Thursday: Unequivocally

T is for Throwback Thursday! Today’s post in the A to Z Challenge is a piece I wrote for the 2014 challenge. Enjoy!

Nikewrites Blog

If you must love,

Go all in.

Don’t half step.

Love is not a pastime.

It is not hobby.

It is not a game.

It cannot be lit then smothered

Like the flame of a candle.

Love is the gift you give

to one you hold in high esteem.

If you must love,

Go all in.

Love with every fiber of your being.

Take off the mask.

Be transparent,

Naked, honest, unabashed

And vulnerable.

Love every part of your darling,

The beautiful parts

And the shattered pieces.

If you must love,

Go all in.

Love until your heart swells.

Love fearlessly, with forbearance.

Love tenderly and passionately.

Love in and out of season.

Love unequivocally.

Anything less,

Is not love at all.

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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!



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 the other officer was 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 the 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?

Woman Crying