Friday Fiction : I Hate You (a flash fiction story)

On Fridays,we write.On Fridays we write. Answering a prompt is a good way to stay in touch with your writing, storytelling, and creativity.

In this flash fiction piece, the goal was to “write a story with the word ‘hate’ in it.” Simple parameter.

I write a lot about relationships, mostly happy ones, and sometimes ones that are on their way back from devastation. This is one of those.

Here’s what I came up with for this week’s FICTION FRIDAY.


I HATE YOU | Flash Fiction

There was nothing left to say.

The words hung in the night air as the sound of the sea pounced against the rocks. The breeze caught the last few words as they floated across the ocean, lagging just behind the seagulls…

I hate you.

She had never in her life uttered these words before. Not to anyone. Ever.

But tonight, they sailed out of her mouth with such reckless abandon that despite having said the words aloud, and with venom, she felt better for it.

But only for a moment.

And then the excruciating pain of regret went ripping through her heart.

She was certain she would go to hell for having said it—screamed it, rather. She was a bad person. She had made bad choice after bad choice after bad choice. She had fallen, gotten back up, only to fall again, and hard. Mistakes could find her anywhere. She had been attracted to the wrong things, the wrong ideals, the wrong…

His mouth remained open, astonished at what he’d just heard. Perhaps he was waiting for her to apologize. She said nothing. He ran his hand through his hair, looked down at the sand, and then back at her.

She stood looking at him, frozen.

There was no way to take back the words that she had said.

There was no coming back from this one.

And in that moment, she knew that this was the final mistake she would make. There would be no others of this magnitude after this one, she vowed. It had come to this sunset moment on a California beach for her to finally realize that the years of her own stupidity, her emotional instability, and the pent up anger she kept locked deep within her had to end. In the most desperate and broken moment of her life, she realized that she needed help.

He looked at her once more, shook his head, and then turned his back to her and began the walk back, away from the surf, to where his car was parked.

She turned back toward the crashing waves, lowered herself to sit on the sand, brought her knees to her chest hugging them with her arms, and realized, for the first time, that no one could save her.

Only she could do that.


copyright | Stephanie Verni |2018



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