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Emmi Lawrence

~ MM Fantasy Romance Writer

Emmi  Lawrence

Tag Archives: microfiction

Canvas Blues – L: Present

06 Wednesday Jan 2021

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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Canvas Blues, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, Love, M/M, microfiction, Mystery, Novel, prose, reading, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

L: Present

That night, Brendon spent an hour peeling his bedroom walls. Photos and pictures and sketches going in piles in the living room and kitchen. Every single piece of art torn down, until the barrenness became oppressive, the blankness like a canvas daring him to start.

Then he opened the hall closet and flicked through history: Robbie perched on a fence post near the bay, Aunt Laurel in her flowing skirts at her wedding, Mom in the kitchen, flour on her apron and pecan bread dough being beaten within an inch of its life. In the far back, sticking to the old paint on the wall it’d been hidden for so long, Casey grinned, his head thrown back, his hair a wild, wild mess, and the straightaway outside St. Thomas’s soaring into the distance behind him.

Brendon pulled the painting out and held it in two hands, his vision going double, seeing into the past. He’d used pale ivories and peachy tones to capture Casey’s body. Dressed him in a tank and greased him with summer sweat. Like the way he’d look after they’d parked in the field in the growing development, hot hands against one another. Skin sticky, as if the humidity conspired to glue them together in the back seat of Casey’s car.

Their world had been tight and narrow and Casey never had seen the side streets. Brendon hadn’t either, too focused on the car in front of him, uncaring where it might be heading.

He hung Casey’s portrait in his bedroom, a singular point in the barrenness.

“If it’s true,” he whispered to Casey. Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – XV: Yesteryears

06 Wednesday May 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, microfiction, Mystery, Novel, prose, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

XV: Yesteryears

Third wheels, to Casey at least, had always meant a limping car, a blowout during a NASCAR race. “Drag,” he’d say. “Drag that swings you all about, like some ragdoll who shouldn’t have been on the track.” Brendon always got the impression Casey was quoting someone.

Third wheels, to Brendon, began to a look a little like himself.

Casey had this way, this all-or-nothing desperation about him. A need for speed. A crash course. And where Brendon had been that canvas Casey could tug about, Robbie was something new, something different. Someone who pushed back.

There came a few years of ping-balling, Casey’s attention caught and lost like a firefly flash as he bounced back and forth between what he wanted and what he couldn’t have.

While Brendon sketched in silent appraisal of angles and light and possibility, a neon-green ninja turtle pencil cutting sharp lines across his sketchbook to capture the dilapidated state of the Le Mans Casey sat in, Robbie put hands back on his hips and laughed.

“It’s a car, like the others. What’s so special about it?”

Casey popped his head out of the driver’s side, one hand on the crumbling leather around the wheel, the other on the glass-empty window edge. “It’s a Le Mans!” As if that should be explanation enough. His eyes wild and wide.

“It’s a broken car,” corrected Robbie.

Brendon’s pencil hesitated.

“It’s one of the most iconic cars in existence. A creation of perfection!”

“And it’s a rusted pile of trash now.”

They shot barbs back and forth until Casey yelled at Robbie to find his own car and they’d race. Robbie crawled into the driver’s seat of a truck—a useless, ugly ‘80s F150 according to Casey—and the two of them pretended to race down a straightaway

By the time Robbie declared he was pulling off the road to grab a milkshake from the Cow’s Udder shack and promptly derailed Casey’s race, Brendon had finished his sketch. It was a mishmash of a thing. Wrong. Tortured even. Some conglomeration of a sleek Le Mans in its heyday and the twisted, dilapidated state it was in today. A twist between Casey’s vision and Robbie’s.

That sketch lay for a long time. Never forgotten, but not quite understood. A quandary Brendon couldn’t explain and struggled to move beyond every time Casey ping-balled back after a fight with Robbie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

Canvas Blues – XIII: Yesteryears

22 Wednesday Apr 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, Flash, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, microfiction, Mystery, Novel, prose, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

XIII: Yesteryears

They hid their bikes behind some trees and disguised them with old pine needles, though any adult who passed rolled their eyes at the meager attempt at subterfuge. Casey led them through the forest, sneakers balancing on exposed roots to avoid the lingering mud.

“It’s this graveyard. There’s a Le Mans, dead as a hooker and about as sexy too.”

“What do you know about hookers?” asked Robbie.

Casey just snorted and beckoned them faster.

Brendon had introduced them one day at the park, Casey in his cleats and shin guards, Robbie in his button-down and gelled hair. Like oil and water he’d thought of them, but they hadn’t gotten that memo and stuck together like they’d been born under a Gemini sky, Castor and Pollux.

They reached a clearing, though it was more a pit, old gravel, a clay embankment and discarded casings poking between spits of crabgrass and wild onion. A graveyard Casey called it and a graveyard it was, for rusted, gutted metal bearers of tetanus sat on unfashionable rims and dry rotted rubber all about. Sixteen cars, if they could be called cars at this point, sat scattered about, like a wood-claimed junkyard. One had a bush bursting out its trunk. Another had a birch sapling poking from its sunroof. A third sat on its side, a thick oak forcing it up, up and away.

“This is the worst kind of creepy,” said Robbie, his hands on his hips and his expression one of disgust. “I thought it’d be a real graveyard.”

“Haunted headstones,” said Casey with a scoff. Then he was off, darting around the metal buckets. “The Le Mans is this way!”

Robbie exchanged a long-suffering look with Brendon, then they followed at a slower pace, Robbie pointing out the rustling where lizards darted down from warm metal hoods. Brendon paused and gazed into the branches of a gum tree, tiny gumballs swaying in the breeze like prickly death balls.

“Did you hear Casey’s dad had an accident?” asked Robbie.

“Is he okay?”

Robbie’s expression turned pained. “Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” repeated Robbie, this time in a voice barely there. “Dad says Casey would have been better off.”

“Better off if what?”

Robbie shrugged. “Don’t know. Told me to mind my own business when I asked. And then he got all quiet talking to Mom. Didn’t your parents talk about it?”

If they had, which Brendon doubted, they’d done it where Brendon couldn’t hear. “No.”

“You think Casey’s going to make us come here a lot?” And Robbie looked around distastefully.

Casey called to them, his voice tight with excitement and attitude, mocking them for their slowness. They ducked around a battered truck that had once been navy blue to see Casey clambering over a chassis, brushing off last year’s dead leaves and picking out clumps of moss where a dent had formed a basin rife for puddles.

He hopped down and spread his arms wide in a glory position. “Can you imagine what this looked like back in the day?”

“What day?” muttered Robbie with a skeptical expression.

“What’d it look like?” asked Brendon, already lifting his sketchbook.

Casey sighed wistfully, nostalgia for a time before he’d been born granting him an ethereal aura. “This Le Mans has been given a place of honor among the dead.” And he stroked the rust like he could turn it to gold with a poor man’s fingers alone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

Canvas Blues – XII: Yesteryears

15 Wednesday Apr 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, Flash, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, microfiction, Mystery, Novel, prose, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

XII: Yesteryears

For Casey’s tenth birthday, October 17th, a day that could be as cold as ice or hot as hell and rather never wavered in between for some reason, his parents threw him a little party out in their backyard. Course it was cold, jeans and long sleeves and snug jackets as they played in rainbow leaves and threw spiky gumballs at one another in an estimation of a fair fight.

Crickets the size of their fingers leapt ten feet, escaping eager little boy hands. Robbie had the best luck, repurposing a plastic party cup into a temporary terrarium. They beat to death a piñata and ate themselves sick with candy and ice cream cake. Casey invented racing games and used birthday boy powers to enforce his rules while his father laughed on and Becks reluctantly took photos for the family at their mother’s request.

“Do I have to? Casey’s such a turd.”

“Don’t say that about your brother.”

“She’s a bigger turd! Elephant sized!”

“Casey!”

They roughed each other up on the trampoline and wound arms about each other and gave cheeses and bunny ears when Becks came around with the camera. The smell of rubber, the smoke from the fire pit, the wafting of pepperoni all under the undressing trees, leaves fluttering in the gentle breeze to come and land on their shoes and socks.

Casey’s mom emailed those photos a few weeks later.

Presents consisted of video games and gift cards and tickets to a big drag race up the road (from Casey’s father of course). Brendon didn’t remember what he’d picked out from the store, but he remembered the painting he’d used as his card. A raptor, purplish-gray with orange and green feathers and talons bronze and eyes of coal. On the back he’d painted, To Casey, Happy Birthday (the ‘Y’ was squished in to fit) and From Brendon, Your Best Friend. Because best friends were different than normal friends and there was a need to distinguish them.

 The next time he went over to Casey’s house, he noticed a new photo propped on the white shelves in the kitchen. Robbie, Casey and Brendon with arms wrapped about one another and gap-toothed, real smiles on their faces. Behind the new frame sat the small painted raptor canvas, those coal eyes looking out over their heads.

~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

52 Pickup

29 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Two Line Stories

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Tags

adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, Flash, gay romance, LGBT, Love, M/M, microfiction, picture, prompt, prose, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing


Stakes drew high, cards shimmering with a hint of astral magic, a threat of eternal servitude hovering within the betting pool.

Tempted I was, to fold, to walk away from that terrible risk, but the cards winked, one queen gesturing frantically, so I stayed, and when we revealed, I got the satisfaction of wiping that smug smile off his face – not just there at the table, but later too, when I showed him other, more sensual, moves.

~Emmi


Image by Whiley Dunsmore


Originally, I thought it fitting to end my first year of doing these two line stories on this one since it would have been my 52nd. It’s not, quite, since I skipped a few. I have them still, but some of them I couldn’t find artists or good links and I really don’t want to be posting a lot of pictures I obviously don’t own copyright to or have license to use.

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my tiny stories. Here’s to next year and more stories about fantastical things and wonderful men! Happy new year to you and yours and I hope all your dreams come true <3

The Bond of Steel

22 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Two Line Stories

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, Flash, gay romance, LGBT, Love, M/M, microfiction, picture, prompt, prose, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing


A sword chose him, claimed him as its own, taking his hopes and dreams and sharpening them to searing, razor points.

I’d thought I’d lost him forever, gone to the metal, to the blade, until he arrived with another in hand, steel singing a song I’d never before heard, stripping the film off my eyes and giving me the gift of sharing his world once more.

~Emmi


Image by Myunghyun Choi


It’s always nice to have fantasy men. To wonder at their stories :) Merry Christmas to everyone!

The Deception in Appearances

15 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Two Line Stories

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, Flash, gay romance, LGBT, Love, M/M, microfiction, picture, prompt, prose, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing


The pack feared no one but her, that berry-bright cloak fluttering through the woods ever a harbinger of the last wild run.

He hid, not daring to make a sound lest she hear, yet wanting to watch as she skipped along, his mate’s fur ruffling, tossing back that familiar scent, his beloved reduced to nothing but a trophy and he too cowardly to take revenge.

~Emmi


Image by SneznyBars (DeviantArt)


Let’s face it, the stain on her basket does look like blood, like she’s got something sinister in there. But maybe it’s just berries in your mind.

What two line story would you write for this image?

Reflecting Rebirth (5 of 5)

08 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Two Line Stories

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, Flash, gay romance, LGBT, Love, M/M, microfiction, picture, prompt, prose, Short Fiction, Writing


After the world moved on, so did I, fleeing the agonized memories of the city for the regrowth beyond.

It was there, deep within the peace, far from the abbey where he’d been born, I found him anew, his wings as glorious as when he first burst free, shining color upon my world all over again.

~Emmi


Image by David Aguirre Hoffmann


And they are rejoined, this time for good!

I like to think the glare behind is water and too bright sunlight rather than snow, but maybe you see something different. What would your two line story be? :)

Fractured Grave (4 of 5)

01 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Two Line Stories

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, Flash, gay romance, LGBT, Love, M/M, microfiction, picture, prompt, prose, Short Fiction, Writing


War stole years, not just from me, but from the land, from my city, from a boy who once shook the stained designs upon the floor with hearty laughs and sweet flutterings of lashes.

His voice no longer echoed in the abbey, in the alcoves of the windows where I’d sit with him; the glass has shattered from the raging storms, the pieces left in jagged shards within his grave.

~Emmi


Image by silentfield (on ArtStation)


And the nostalgia reigns as the POV grows up. But good stories never end there, for they need to have the ‘sweet’ in bittersweet to be truly remembered.

Artistry Aflight (3 of 5)

24 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Two Line Stories

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, Love, M/M, microfiction, picture, prompt, prose, Short Fiction, Writing


On our side, winging with a thousand shades, an impossibility roared through that first rush, staunching our assailants, slicing with a sharpness no steel could emulate.

This time everyone heard him, yet I saw in him a reflection of my own rage as I lifted a heavy sword and followed his lead.

~Emmi


Image by Exileden (on DeviantArt)


I actually used a completely different picture by the same artist as my prompt for this third part, but when I found the artist, I discovered they’d recreated the same stained glass creation. Not only that, but the image still worked perfectly, possibly even better, with the small story I was concocting.

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

A serialized novel begun Jan 29th 2020. Here you can find links to the beginning and the most recent additions.

I: Prologue
II: Present
III: Yesteryears
IV: Yesteryears
V: Present

……….

L: Present
LI: Yesteryears
LII: Yesteryears
LIII: Present
LIV: Yesteryears

New chapters published every Wednesday!
Next up: Jul 7th 2021

FREE SHORT STORIES

THE BAYWATER & THE HURRICANE
(fantasy M/M)

WHAT SECRETS MIGHT REMAIN
(fantasy M/M)

TALL, DARK & HANDSOME
(contemporary M/M)

THE IMMORTAL LOVER OF LAKE PHANTA
(fantasy M/M)

ACROSS THAT OCEAN OF SAND
(fantasy M/M)

MY LIFE, HIS BREATH
(contemporary M/M)

POET’S BANE
(fantasy M/M)

What’s Up!

  • Canvas Blues – XCV: Present
  • Canvas Blues – XCIV: Present
  • Coffee & Conversation: How to keep your plots/stories from being repetitive?
  • Canvas Blues – XCIII: Yesteryears
  • Coffee & Conversation: How to critique someone else’s work?
  • Canvas Blues – XCII: Present

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