I wrote this for the September 26th Flash Fiction Challenge
Yvette accepted the post-coital Cohiba offered by the bearded writer from La Plaza Vieja. He was writing his memoir. She tucked the bed linens around her waist, leaned back against the worn headboard, and told him about France, her life before la Habana. Before coming to Cuba.
He listened carefully as she smoked and wove her tale, “… But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight, nor right and wrong nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight.”
The prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about someone unremembered. Is it a momentary lapse or a loss in time? Play with the tone — make it funny, moving, or eerie. Go where the prompt leads you!
I am the curious sort… tried to find out about ‘her’… apparently there are many women with that name.
There was also a sculptor named Henry… but there wasn’t any indication that he had married. But he had a studio at… 25 rue de l’Yvette.
Ah, Paris… but then any city can be complex and filled with secrets. 🙂
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You won’t find much, if anything, on this Yvette Bouchard. I might make up some more stuff though, sometime, maybe. In this story she was a muse.
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Perhaps she was …Henry’s muse too? 😉
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TN, this flash feels like a recorded moment, disconnected from its life, making an appearance. It fades in and fades out and we wonder, what we overheard. Lovely writing!
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[…] Who, Exactly was Yvette Bouchard by TN Kerr […]
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Oh, man! What a brilliant open. I almost wanna carry this one on myself..
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