CL Gordon Writes

Ask me anything   eBooks   About   

Short stories and more.

Steven has some serious trust issues and has done some serious drinking at the bar. Emily, his girlfriend, has unknown whereabouts and won’t respond to any of Steven’s alcohol-fueled and accusatory texts.George Packard, an ex-government engineer and fellow bar patron, claims to have the solution: a machine that promises to link the couple in a permanent, unconventional way. Steven isn’t sure that Emily will agree to his selfish designs. Though, if they truly are soul mates, Steven’s sure he’s allowed to take some liberties …
Available on Amazon. 

Steven has some serious trust issues and has done some serious drinking at the bar. 

Emily, his girlfriend, has unknown whereabouts and won’t respond to any of Steven’s alcohol-fueled and accusatory texts.

George Packard, an ex-government engineer and fellow bar patron, claims to have the solution: a machine that promises to link the couple in a permanent, unconventional way. 

Steven isn’t sure that Emily will agree to his selfish designs. Though, if they truly are soul mates, Steven’s sure he’s allowed to take some liberties …

Available on Amazon

— 8 months ago
#darkscience  #dark science  #short story  #shortstory  #ebook  #science fiction  #sciencefiction  #scifi  #sci fi  #soulmates  #soul mates 
Naturally, he selected reds for his tastings in Sonoma. Reds were always best. Whites were never as dramatic.
He tried a sip of the 2007. The selection was mellow with no acidic pinch at his throat, and it gracefully offered a mild sweetness. Overall, it was painfully inoffensive—it just wasn’t what he was looking for.
What he really was looking for had just clunked into the tasting room in warm platform wedge sandals. Her dainty feet were heavy from a wine tasting elsewhere, and her starched white dress had a high neckline and short skirt. He grew giddy thinking she might be out of that dress shortly.
He approached her slowly, subtly, not wanting to seem too desperate. Finally, he was close enough to make his move.
Swiftly tilting his wine glass, he checked his wristwatch, letting the red fly onto the woman’s dress.
“Oh my gaaawd, you moron!” she nasally bellowed. “This is never going to come out! I need to change.”
It was the best whine yet—there was a high pitch of distress with a low undertone of grave disappointment and hints of unmitigated narcissism. 10 out of 10, would spill again.

Naturally, he selected reds for his tastings in Sonoma. Reds were always best. Whites were never as dramatic.

He tried a sip of the 2007. The selection was mellow with no acidic pinch at his throat, and it gracefully offered a mild sweetness. Overall, it was painfully inoffensive—it just wasn’t what he was looking for.

What he really was looking for had just clunked into the tasting room in warm platform wedge sandals. Her dainty feet were heavy from a wine tasting elsewhere, and her starched white dress had a high neckline and short skirt. He grew giddy thinking she might be out of that dress shortly.

He approached her slowly, subtly, not wanting to seem too desperate. Finally, he was close enough to make his move.

Swiftly tilting his wine glass, he checked his wristwatch, letting the red fly onto the woman’s dress.

“Oh my gaaawd, you moron!” she nasally bellowed. “This is never going to come out! I need to change.”

It was the best whine yet—there was a high pitch of distress with a low undertone of grave disappointment and hints of unmitigated narcissism. 10 out of 10, would spill again.

— 9 months ago
#flash fiction  #flashfiction  #short story  #creative writing  #microfiction  #indie author  #wine  #winecountry 
It wasn’t a chosen profession, the way she lived. It was a matter of survival. But she learned to accept the dangers of nightlife—even if it was just working for crumbs.
Alone in the big city. Living in some hole in the wall. It wasn’t enjoyable, especially being out this late. And when would this night end? Perhaps a peek could be had at the old woman’s watch, over there at the bus stop. She hurried over to the bench, weary of her surroundings.
Wait. Was the old woman pointing that timid, withered old finger in her direction? What was behind her? A mugger? A rapist? Some deranged fiend?
“Wha … what is it?”
The elderly woman’s eyes widened. “AHHHHHH!”
“What is it?!”
“AHHHHHH! WHY WON’T IT GO AWAY?!”
She looked up to see the old woman’s shoe hover briefly. The thick black heel came down fast.  SQUISH!
Everything went black. She couldn’t see the old woman shudder, but could hear her hoarse mumblings as life faded away:
“Can’t stand bugs, no I can’t … ‘specially cockroaches.”

It wasn’t a chosen profession, the way she lived. It was a matter of survival. But she learned to accept the dangers of nightlife—even if it was just working for crumbs.

Alone in the big city. Living in some hole in the wall. It wasn’t enjoyable, especially being out this late. And when would this night end? Perhaps a peek could be had at the old woman’s watch, over there at the bus stop. She hurried over to the bench, weary of her surroundings.

Wait. Was the old woman pointing that timid, withered old finger in her direction? What was behind her? A mugger? A rapist? Some deranged fiend?

“Wha … what is it?”

The elderly woman’s eyes widened. “AHHHHHH!”

“What is it?!”

“AHHHHHH! WHY WON’T IT GO AWAY?!”

She looked up to see the old woman’s shoe hover briefly. The thick black heel came down fast.  SQUISH!

Everything went black. She couldn’t see the old woman shudder, but could hear her hoarse mumblings as life faded away:

“Can’t stand bugs, no I can’t … ‘specially cockroaches.”

— 9 months ago
#flashfiction  #flash fiction  #indie author  #indieauthor  #amwriting