Do you like to read romance novels? Wouldn’t you like to know more about your favorite authors? Well you came to the right place! Join the writers of Romance Weekly as we go behind the scenes of our books and tell all….. About our writing of course! Every week we’ll answer questions and after you’ve enjoyed the blog on this site we’ll direct you to another. So come back often for a thrilling ride!
If you’re joining me from Mishka Jenkins’ wonderful blog, or just starting your journey here, welcome.
This Week we have a writer’s flash fiction challenge courtesy of Jo Richardson.
The flash fiction challenge: Write 300 words based on this image:
This story grew in my mind after seeing the image, and I couldn’t not write it, though I find the questions it poses, a bit disturbing.
Jill & Nick
June 11, 2057
“Hi, I’m Nick. Remember? I came to see you yesterday?”
Why did he torture himself? He knew what her response would be.
“I’m not programmed to remember.”
It was a blessing she couldn’t remember all the men she’d been with. Still, he’d hoped she’d remember seeing him again. That he’d maybe tripped some circuit…
You fool. This isn’t Jill. Jill is dead.
Pleasureclone11367 was simply a soulless, vat-grown mass of flesh, blood and bone, that looked and sounded exactly like his late wife. Jill had confessed shortly after their marriage that she’d sold the tissue and cloning rights to her body to pay off her college debt.
This wasn’t even a person, just a pleasureclone. It wasn’t Jill.
“Would you like me to take my clothes off, John?”
Her voice, but she couldn’t even remember his name. All men were John to a pleasureclone.
“No. No, please, I just want to…”
It had taken Nick over a year to track down Pleasureclone11367. Yesterday he’d walked out frustrated after only minutes. But he knew this was something he needed to face. Somewhere, in that thing, was the last living part of Jill. Just cells, but still.
He moved closer. Longing, needing.
God, she even smells like Jill.
Would she…could he?
He took her in his arms, feeling again those familiar curves against his body. His mouth so close, his bottom lip dragged across hers.
“I’m sorry, John. I’m not programmed to kiss.”
He kissed her anyway. He kissed her hard, wishing, praying. But she didn’t kiss him back.
Fool. Jill is dead.
He let her go, turning away.
The shock of his kiss took Pleasurclone11367’s biological circuitry by surprise. Synapses fired in her cloned brain, causing severed neurons to reconnect…and she remembered.
Well, there you have it. Let me know what you think in the comments below, then click through to see what Brenda Margriet wrote.