Fine Dining

Flash Fiction

Fine dining? Yes, I like fine dining. I love the beautiful restaurants, the fine crystal and china, the well prepared and presented food and wine – I love it all. I go there to be served, to enjoy myself, to eat good food, drink fine wine, and live. This is part of my life – a part that makes me feel good about life, and about myself. We all need to do that from time to time – to dress up, enjoy an evening out, and not begrudge the cost. Life is there to enjoy – we must allow ourselves the right to do so.

(c) August 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written authoriztion from the author.

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The Healing Power of Gold

flash fiction

The Japanese have an art form called Kintsugi, meaning “golden joinery” (also called kintsukuroi, meaning “golden repair”). Pottery is repaired with lacquer dusted, or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The concept behind this art is to make the repair part of the history of the item being repaired, rather than disguising it (as we in the west are wont to do). So how do I accomplish this with my life? I mean, there must be a way! I think that I will go with gold, and weave it through my dreams. Shimmering gold, wisdom from the ancient ones.

(c) August 2018 Bonnie Cehovet

Reproduction prohibited without written permission from the author.

What I Know Will Remain An Enigma

Flash Fiction

Sherlock Holmes – certainly one of my favorite fictional characters. In truth, I don’t think he was so fictional. Nor was Dr. Watson. Nor was Mrs. Hudson. I firmly believe that they all existed in that gasogene world. Holmes knew what he knew – and he knew a lot. Did he really need his army of irregulars? Probably. But he was the one that put all of the information together, and came up with the solution. (Yes, there was that 7% solution, but that is neither here nor there).

As with the great detective, it is my business to know. What I know, goes to the people that also need to know. Behind the scenes, I live my life.

(c) July 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission from the author.

Living Well

flash fiction

Eleanor walked into the suite and smiled. The Surrey was a boutique hotel on the upper east side of New York CIty. They would be here for an extended weekend – to see a show, experience fine dining, do some shopping … and, of course, attend the board meeting. Tony would be formally voted in as Chairman and CEO of Harcourt Inc., the company that her father had founded. She and Tony would be running things now. They had always worked together, even though she appeared to be merely the supportive wife. Appearances can be deceiving. They call it living well … and they were.

(c) July 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited wthout written permission of the author.

The Shadowy Figure

flash fiction

I remember that night so clearly. I had just walked in the door, after spending the evening at a friend’s dinner party. I turned on the hall light, and hung my coat up in the closet. I was about to pick up my purse and take it into the bedroom, when I heard a noise. I walked down the hall – there was a light coming from the living room. As I started to enter, I saw a dark figure standing in one corner. Not again! Miles had been dead for over a  year! What did he keep coming back for!

(c) July 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written consent of the author.

Tranquility

flash fiction

I always knew that I needed to have a space that was my own – one where I could tune out all thoughts, one where I was simply at peace with the Now of life. And so I created one. Well, I have created many over the years, but this is my current space. Bare essentials – neutral walls, soft light, peaceful cherry blossoms. Here I don’t exist – I simply Am. My aim is to become so much a part of this room that I cease to exist as me – that I become invisible. May no cords bind me. I am almost there.

(c) July 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission of the author.

Foggy Road

flash fiction

I have always loved the fog, from the time I was a child. In an erie way, I felt that it protected me. I could look out my window, and not see the houses around me – and they couldn’t see me.  I still love to walk around my neighborhood in the fog. It has changed some (the neighborhood, that is), but I still feel that sense of peace, that sense that all is well with the world.  Fog adds that little miasma of blurring, the fuzziness that takes the edges off of life. And so it is.

(c) June 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written consent of the author.