Anna’s Decision (excerpt) by Yves Potter

 Anna was standing by the window. She looked down into the secluded garden. Dimitri was half-hidden behind the weeping willow, waiting for her signal. The new passport lay open on the polished green leather desktop. Dimitri’s dark, brooding stare gazed blankly back. No one could deny it was a work of art, but what had it cost her? She had agreed to ‘one final job’ many times before. This one would pay all her college debts and was definitely the last. Anna was too afraid of being caught if she continued with her clandestine work.

Last night, Dimitri had sensed her fear, encouraged her to drink too much red wine and then carried her to bed. When her head was still spinning from the heady combination of wine and lovemaking, Dimitri had made his proposal. 

 Now, as the early morning sun created a shifting world of shadows, Anna could not remember her answer. She pushed her sleek, dark hair back from her eyes. Out of ingrained habit, she tidied and cleaned her precision instruments. Her mind, now the immediate task was completed, held onto the warm, safe, sleepy feeling she had woken up with. 

 Her careful planning for a career in design had not prepared her for this moment when a simple ‘yes’ could land her in a whole new life. Dimitri had been ultra persuasive, cajoling and pleading, never letting go of the mesmerising hold he exercised over her. Should she go? Should she stay? Live within the law or without? There was a slim chance of being arrested if she stayed but if she left with Dimitri, she would be on the run for ever. ‘But that life would be exciting and unpredictable, all the things you crave,’ screamed her inner voice.

 Dimitri came striding into the room like a thunder god dispensing storms.

 ‘Is it ready?’ He asked, his smoky accent turning her resolve to ash.
 Anna nodded and pointed to his completed passport. Her own lay beside it. Dimitri pocketed them both.
 ‘Are you coming, Anna?’ Confidently, he held out his hand.


Flash Fiction – Dream catcher by Yves Potter

He leapt out from behind a gnarled walnut tree, knife in hand, evil grin on his dirt blackened face. His smile widened as I jumped away, trying to force my frightened feet to turn and run. I heard his laughter bouncing off the trees as I ran. A jagged edge of rock cut into my left foot. I sucked in the cold crisp air. I retraced my footsteps in the deep snow. He was still behind me. Reaching the warm haven of my log cabin, I closed my eyes. When I opened them, he was standing in front of me.



image of a quill

Yves Potter

© 2012