Vertigo

30B491ED-B923-41A7-BDF6-8EAB9DD374DD“Whoa,” Martin said as he fell back down onto the bed.

“Are you okay?” Debbie said. “You look as if you’re going to faint or something.”

A slight sweat had broken out on Martin’s forehead. He felt dizzy and nauseous. “Give me a second,” he said, closing his eyes.

Concerned, Debbie asked, “Can I get you some water or something?”

Martin opened his eyes and smiled weakly at his girlfriend. “I’ve got this inner ear thing. I’ve had it for a few years and I usually know how to control it. But just now, when I tried to get up out of bed, I got hit hard by a spinning sensation.”

“You mean like vertigo!” Debbie asked.

“Yeah,” Martin responded. “It sometimes happens if I move my head in a particular position, so I try to avoid putting my head in those positions that could trigger the dizziness.”

“Ha!” Debbie exclaimed.

Martin, whose vertigo sensation seemed to have passed, slowly sat up, moved his legs around and off the bed, and tentatively stood up. “Ha? What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“I mean that I can seriously say to my boyfriend that he needs to get his head examined and mean it literally. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think I’m okay,” Martin said.

She smiled, walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her body tightly into his. Feeling his naked body respond to her embrace, she whispered, “I know a position that will really make your head spin…and in a good way.”

And she pushed Martin back down onto the bed.


Written for today’s one-word prompt, “faint.”

FFfAW — Imagine Dragons

A50CC291-3C2B-4117-B483-4FA3F86887A4“Hey Craig. How did it go at the show?”

“Oh hello, Frank,” Craig responded. “It went okay, I suppose. I did sell the dragons, both of them, to one buyer.”

“That’s terrific, Craig,” Frank said. “But you don’t seem that psyched about having sold them.”

“Yeah, well I was hoping to get a little more money for the dragons,” Craig explained. “They took me a long time to weld and I was looking forward to having some rich collector, you know, an aficionado of metalwork or something, express an interest in my work and maybe even become my patron who would fund my future work.”

“But you did say you sold them both to one buyer. So why so glum?”

“Because the guy who bought them owns Norstar, the recycling place out on Dohertys Road.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Frank asked.

Craig sighed. “Norstar’s a freakin’ junk yard in the middle of nowhere. Nobody’s gonna see them. My dragons deserve better, like to be in a museum or at a public plaza, you know.”

(173 words)


Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Image credit: Enisa.