Road Block

      He was terrified of small spaces and she knew it.  However, there wasn't much Laurel Jackson didn't know about him.  Christopher Collins had been an old friend of hers since childhood.  He and she shared some great memories while playing in the neighborhood.  Christopher was fun-loving and often went along with the fiery girl in his neighborhood.  Sometimes her courage got them into trouble, but Laurel could always get them out of the situation.  However, the two friends eventually grew up.  Both of them had somehow split apart along the path and never came back.  That all changed when 21-year-old Laurel heard that Christopher was leaving for a flat, deserted moor miles away.  His love of open spaces had influenced this decision, but his home would then be too far away from her.  Laurel didn't want to live out in the middle of nowhere; she had grown up in a rich life and wasn't quite willing to leave it all behind for a house in the country with nothing.  All she knew was that she couldn't let him leave; though she didn't know how to do it.
      Laurel sneaked towards her own house.  She had to get a few things to prevent Christopher from leaving, but she didn't want anyone to know about it.  She pulled out a light and sent a signal across the lawn.  Of course, she had hired someone else to retrieve the items; she tended to be a bit on the lazy side and others were more experienced at stealth.
      A flicker of movement interrupted the quiet of the garden.  Laurel blinked.  Up till now, she hadn't even seen any sign of the hired thief.  Nothing else moved for about half an hour, and then Laurel saw the man bringing the desired things to her.
     "Here's your money, sir," she stated, giving the thief his pay.  He nodded and Laurel searched to make sure she had everything she needed:  a bucket and a bag of explosives.  She never did ask why her parents owned such things, only if they were safe; her parents replied by telling her not to mess with them.
      Laurel mounted her white stallion and rode to the site where she was going to plant the explosion.  It was in the mountains by the moor.  She figured that if Christopher couldn't get to his home, he wouldn't be able to leave... at least temporarily.
      Once all was in order, Laurel and her horse galloped away as fast as they could... neither of them wanted to be there when the thing went off.
      A loud boom exploded down the trail and the town looked up, startled.  Christopher Collins had been packing his luggage into the carriage, but he instantly stopped to watch.  Laurel casually walked up to him.
      "So... if the road is unsafe... does that mean you'll stay?" she asked, hoping to cajole him without sounding suspicious.  Christopher gave her a curious glance, then shrugged.
      "It depends," he replied, watching her reaction, "if I can find more reasons to stay here."  It was a broad statement, but Laurel felt her heart glimmer with hope.
      "Well...," she began with a smile.
      "Did you set off the explosion, Miss Laurel Jackson?" he asked, humor dancing in his eyes.
      "I--you have no right to frame me...I-I was...," Laurel stuttered, feeling her tongue incapable of words.
      "Laurel.  I've known you for years.  I know it was you," Christopher said, laughing.  "Does this mean you want me to stay?"
      Laurel's face lit up in delight and she nodded speechlessly.
      "Then I am unable to resist staying," Christopher said.  "Mrs. Collins," he added mischievously.
      "Do you mean--!"
      "Only if you say yes."
      "Yes!!"

Alright, I had no idea that we were posting our flash poems from our notebooks on here.  Oh, well.  This one won't be quite as thought out as the other two.  Good luck.

I saw a cool building with "SHOES" written on the side.  The words were very well sketched and the lines were crisp.  When I walked inside, beautiful multicolored flipflops were in neat rows; I wanted to try on my favorites and I bet they were comfortable and durable.  Perhaps I would buy a few. When I had made my purchase, I looked up.  The sky was amazingly blue and four sparkling balloons were over head.  Then I spotted an creative building with the metal letters "OCEAN" up on top.  Next to it, was a blue door.  Who knew where this would lead?  I met a nice girl in there who showed me a valuable message tatooed on her arms:  Never make someone else your priority, allow them to make you theirs.  Four year later, I met a guy who saw my value, and though I saw his, I never allowed myself to think of each other as anything but equals.

Hey, guys, my teacher said I had to write two flash poems, so... here's the second one.

The Final Wait

The dust cloud cleared.  I was still standing on sandy desert ground.  I had been here for over an hour, waiting, waiting, waiting.  Waiting for what though?  Was it my gold?  Definitely nope.  I had long ago lost interest in the meaningless rocks.  Was it my horse?  Maybe, it was my favorite.  However, I could always get a new one.  Was it... her?  I had to think about whether to be honest with myself, but then I saw her.  She was a bit ruffled, and more than a bit wind-blown, but I couldn't help smiling.  She had wanted to repay me for saving her life and had taken off before I could refuse.  She handed me the payment and the horse, but she spotted my face as she started to walk away.  She hesitated, looking deep into my blue eyes, then smiled softly and we both walked through the sunlight towards nowhere in particular except to be with each other.

Here is a flash poem for my creative writing class.

Riderless

The storm raged on a previously clear night.  The stars and moon were no longer visible behind the thunder clouds.  The riders were safe inside their small brick stable with smoke rising out of the top, adding to the already gray sky.  The tall rider was the most experienced, but he didn't visit the ridden as much over the years.  The flicker of sharp lightning flashed across the darkened sky, but the riders did not come as they used to to make sure the ridden were fine during the chaotic weather.  Rain clattered on the stable roof and the ridden nickered softly in protest of such noise, but the riders did not enter the stables and stroke their soft noses.  They did not even stir as one of the less ridden ones reared in fear.  "We're riderless," a dark ridden one snorted and the other ridden ones whinnied in agreement.  The bold ones began stamping at the stall doors of the suddenly recognizable cages of the ridden.  Panic, like a disease, spread quickly as each ridden one tried to escape, their powerful hooves shattering the wooden gates.  They bolted as a group towards the firm stable door, throwing their weight at the unprepared barrier.  The ridden ran wild except for the fence, and even that was no match for agile skills.  The sky was still gray, but a certain light was shining now, leading the riderless to where they were meant to be.  The riderless were free.