Thursday, November 7, 2013

Progress with Nano - Day 6

So progress has been coming along. I'm still a little behind, but it's not bad. I'm having a lot of fun working with my various writing groups and meeting new people in my regions at write-ins.

Here's a snippet of what I wrote yesterday.

"Choking back the tears, she clasped his hand in both of hers and prayed. She prayed to whatever God would allow her husband to be hurt like this would allow him to recover, to touch her again, to be with her, to live."

Friday, November 1, 2013

NaNoWriMo 2013 - Day 1

Dun dun duuuuuuuun.....

Yes, the madness has returned. National Novel Writing Month.

Last year I had a firm outline, character sketches and even some scenes roughly penciled.

This year, I finally decided what to write at 10pm on October 31st, 2013... then hurriedly try to pencil in an outline. I was woefully unprepared, despite eagerly signing up for this craziness.

So far today I've made the daily goal. I want a few more words in since I don't usually write a lot during the weekends, but we shall see. Maybe I can squeak a few more words out tonight.

What I am going to do this year is every day that I write, I am going to post my favorite line of the new material. Hopefully these little snippets will tantalize you on what the final product is going to be (assuming that those favorite lines don't get edited out after November).

Also what is different this year: I'm writing a romance. I have never written a straight romance before. My stories have always had an element of romance to them... the main character would have a love interest, but it wasn't the main premise of the story. This time, it is. So, here's to new things!

And lastly, my favorite line from today's writing:
"Elizabeth couldn't speak. Her body quaked with tears, shuddering sobs that robbed her body of sound with the violence of her emotion."

Monday, October 28, 2013

Mystic Island by Jena Roudebush

Hello friends!

Below is a story by my friend Jena Roudebush for an upcoming Christmas anthology. She doesn't have a blog for her story, so I provided mine. I was supposed to write for this anthology as well, but I couldn't get my story to come together. I will have more details about the availability of the anthology by Jena and many other talented others (last count was 63) as soon as I can.

And now, the main event:

Genre: Fantasy
Author/Pen Name: Jena Roudebush
eBook: Yes
Dedication: No

By Jena Roudebush

The horizon was bleak on the white capped open sea, no land in sight. The ship rocked gently side to side. Dark clouds threaten heavy rain. A cold bitter bit to the air brought on a shiver to Caption James Boone. He stood tall at the wooden wheel. He’s hands grasping two of the eight spokes of the worn, weathered wooden wheel. He whistled to himself as he guided the ship north towards Mystic Island. Fairies inhabited the beautiful tree covered, mountainous Island. He had little knowledge of Mystic Island. The Queen of the Island is a healer. He needed to find her and ask her or rather plead her help to use her powers to heal his very ill son. She was his last hope. They had tried every healing treatment, nothing had worked. James and his crew had been at sea for five days and time was running out.

James’s son was in the Captains courters covered in heavy blankets to ward off the bitter chill that ran through his body. He coughed for the millionth time; the action severally aggravated his throat so bad that his eyes began to water. Coughing up blood he spat into a hanker chief. Looking at the red crimson liquid he wondered if they could get to the Island in time. James Jr lay in bed trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head. “Great”, he said out loud, “another headache”. Unable to sleep he stared up at the wooden plank ceiling of the ship praying that the Queen would heal him.

It was late in the afternoon when Caption James, saw the tall majestic mountains of Mystic Island. A sense of accomplishment washed over him. “We made it” he said in a whisper. The ship approached the Island and prepared to anchor the ship. He, James Jr, and the ten man crew loaded into life boats and headed for shore. The small beach was pure white and the sight of it made Caption Boone’s heart swell with happiness. They had made it, one step closer. James admired the Islands glorious beauty. He took in the fresh pine smell of the dark green trees that covered the Island. He peaked at his son and gave him a hopeful, loving smile.

Carrying his son on a handmade sled James with map in hand and a prayer started on what he knew was a day’s quest. It probably would take all night but he didn’t care, they would keep going. He was thankful that one of his good friends had explored the Island a few months ago and was able to provide him with a map. The friend had told him that on his explorations he and his crew had been walking for about a day before they had found the Queens Castle. James with his crew behind him led the way toward the castle. The sun was beginning to sink in the sky. Five hours of day light at the most, they needed to make the most of it.

Trudging through the thick forest cutting away branches with his long bladed sword. Capitan Boone and his crew walked into the night. Exhausted from traveling for almost eight hours, they stop to rest. James’s crew needed sleep. They would not be able to travel further without it. James knew that time was running out, he had to press on alone with James’s Jr. Boone could not waste time just going up alone and bringing the Queen back to camp. It would take too long and it was not a risk he was willing to take. James Jr was getting sicker. Capitan Boone was worried but hopeful that he could make it to the Queen that would surly help his son.

The sun was peaking just barley above the snow caped mountains when James and his son approached the Castle. The pure glowing white marble stone structure stood majestically in front of him. Glass carved Angel statues flanked the Iron Gate. He slowly pushed the gate open and stepped inside the court yard. Stone steps led to the Castle door. He lifted his son into his arms and climbed the white marble steps. He knocked firmly on the elaborately carved wooded door. The door opened into a huge open room. The queen stood from her thrown and glided towards them like she was floating on a cloud. She was exquisitely beautiful, skin like porcelain. Her chiseled jaw prominent, smooth long dark hair flowed down her slender back. Her gown formed to her body like a glove. The hooded white fur cloak kept her warm against the chilly Castle air.

She stood before James tall and regal with a presents that was almost intimidating. “What can I do for you James”? She asked softly. “How do you know my name”? James asked with curiosity. “I have my ways James”. James cleared his throat, took a deep breath and spoke. “My son is very sick, I and my dear wife have done everything we can do, and nothing has worked.” “Can you heal him”? “Please”? James said with desperation. The Queens bright blue eyes gazed into James’s hazel ones as if she was reading his thoughts. Smiling, she spoke “I have been keeping my eye on your family, as I can sense the sick”. She continued “You are a loving father and your son is a good boy”. “I will heal your son”. Tears sprung to James’s eyes. He said as he bowed before her, “Thank you my Queen”.


Check out the other stories of the anthology here.

Monday, September 16, 2013

"My Friends & I" Compilation Album and Ebook is LIVE!

My first publication, a collaboration between myself and twelve other authors and thirteen musicians is now LIVE!


The ebook is available on AMAZON & SMASHWORDS. It is FREE on Smashwords right now and will be free on Amazon soon. Go check it out! :)

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

My Tribute

This is something I wrote a few years ago about 9/11 and wanted to share it today. The story was based on these two pictures.

Title: The Past, Present, and Future

She held the black and white photo in her hands, doing her best to keep her fingerprints off of it. It was one of her favorite memories of her time with Andrew. That’s all she had left, were memories and photos ... and their son.

In the photo, they weren’t even married yet. She and Andy took a vacation during their summer break between their junior and senior years of college. They were driving along the coast with some friends and had stopped at this small sandy beach that was surrounded by rocks. It was so much fun. They spent the whole day there, with Andy’s friend Raj taking pictures of everything.

Cecilia could kiss Raj now, if he were still alive. Without his pictures, she wouldn’t have this momento of her and Andy's life ... of their past.

Anthony came running through the front door, his ten year old body a bundle of energy. Without stopping his momentum, he dropped his bookbag on the floor near the living room and came charging towards Cecilia.

“Mooooooom! I’m home!” He plowed into his mother’s waiting arms, who had just moments before put the picture down on the table.

“Hey sweetie,” Cecilia said, brushing a lock of hair from her son’s forehead. He looked so much like his father. “Did you have a good day at school?”

Anthony nodded and sat down on a chair next to hers at the table. “It was okay. The teachers were talking a lot about the memorial today.”

“Yeah, well, it’s important,” Cecila said softly.

“I know. Dad’s going to be on it, right?”

“Yes, he will. He and Uncle Raj are going to be listed on it together, on the same section.”

Anthony picked up the picture that Cecilia had set down. He had seen the picture many times over the years and studied the man in the picture who he never met.

“I wish I could have met him, Uncle Raj I mean ... and of course, Dad too.”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” Cecilia replied sadly, rubbing her son’s back.

Years after the picture was taken, Andrew and Cecilia found themselves on the east coast, living in a small bungalow in Brooklyn, far from the California coast but by a different shore near the channel. Andrew had gotten his dream job with an investment company and had just been transferred to the main office in New York City. Cecilia found a job at a nearby school and was happily teaching young minds.

By some luck, Andrew’s old college friend Raj worked at the same investment firm. The two men hadn’t seen one another for several years and they enjoyed catching up on each other’s lives. Raj and his new bride, Smita, became a frequent visitor to their home, sharing stories over dinner.

They were settling into what they deemed their perfect life. Their house was modest but fit their needs. While Andrew had his dream job, the investment industry was still volitile so they didn’t take on more than what they could easily afford. They dreamed of filling two of the three bedrooms of their home with children, and possibly a shaggy dog or two.

Andrew and Cecilia were well on their way to that goal in 2001. She was pregnant with their first child and they were pet parents to a crabby but lovable orange tabby. The cat was crabby when she didn’t want to be petted and lovable when she wanted attention. It was a source of amusement for the couple to watch the moods of their mercurial cat. As Cecilia’s pregnancy progressed, her moods became even more volitle than the cat’s. Andrew didn’t find that as humorous. They also found out that Smita was expecting as well. Cecilia and Smita grew closer, sharing the bond of impending motherhood.

Like so many other days, that September morning was like any other. Never in a million years would Cecilia have thought that the last time she’d see her husband was when he left for work that morning, heading in early for an important conference call.

She and Smita sat in a daze in her living room as they watched the news coverage on the television. Even heading outside was enough to confirm what was on the television and the radio. The skyline she had come to know and love was a smoky haze, and missing a key fixture.

For days after, weeks later even, she kept looking out her window hoping that her husband would come driving or walking up their road … but he never appeared. He was gone, only the kicking of her baby reminding Cecilia that she will always have a part of him with her.

Smita and Cecilia stayed close, mutual loss further strengthening their bond. When the nights were too rough for either woman to be alone, they would crash at each other’s homes and be there for one another. A month later, they found a support group for 9/11 widows. They always knew they weren’t alone, but finding others to lean on helped them immensely.

A few months later, Anthony was born, healthy and hale and the spitting image of his father. Cecilia was still grieving the loss of her husband and clung to her son. Smita’s bright-eyed baby girl was born a few short weeks later, named Regina in honor of her father. Both women rejoiced that their children were born without complications despite the stress of the last several months.

Time passed, the pain of Andrew’s abrupt and sudden death receeding but never going away. Tony and Reggie, as Regina came to be known, grew, learning about their fathers through their mothers and friends. The four of them made a special trip every year to the cemetery in remembrance.

As the country healed, so did Cecilia, Smita, and their children. They moved on, went on with their lives.

Which lead to the present, ten years later. Cecilia promised Tony that she would take him and Reggie to see Harry Potter this weekend. There was a special screening of all the movies on Saturday that the kids had been looking forward to for some time. Cecilia hoped that the movies would help distract them from all the 9/11 coverage. She didn’t want her son to forget, but she also didn’t think her not quite ten year old son needed to be inundated with all different shows and specials that were being aired.

“We’re still going to the Hogwarts-a-thon, right, Mom?” Tony asked, pulling Cecilia from her thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a smile. “Smita and Reggie are going to be here at 9:30 tomorrow morning to head to the theater. I picked up the tickets a few weeks ago and I even stopped by a costume store and got you your own pair of Harry Potter glasses!”

“Wow, really?”

“Really!” Cecilia said with a laugh, pulling the glasses out of a small bag on the table.

Tony eagerly grabbed the glasses and slipped them on his face, his smile from ear to ear. His excitement only faltered when he glanced at the picture of his parents on the table. Cecilia noticed his change of mood and pulled him close to her.

“Momma, I wish I was a real wizard,” Tony said softly as he gripped her shirt tightly.

“Why’s that, little man?”

“Cause I’d find a spell to bring Dad back ... and Uncle Raj and everyone else,” he whispered.

“Oh, Anthony.” Cecilia sighed and squeezed her son that much tighter. She long wished for such a thing could happen, but knew it wasn’t possible. The past couldn’t be changed. While in the present, they grieved, the future held much promise.

Monday, September 9, 2013

FIRST PUBLICATION ANNOUNCEMENT: “My Friends And I” Song And Story Collaboration

I am very proud and honored to make this announcement on this fine Monday morning.

A few weeks ago, I was approached to participate in a song and story collaboration to help promote the release of a CD of indie musicians. I was thrilled at the chance to not only help promote fellow artists but to also put my name out there. I couldn't be happier that this collaboration is also my first ever published work (the ebook will be available soon).

Here are some more details about this awesome project. My contribution to the collaboration is at the very bottom. If you like my story, check out the others and buy the album! 

The Book:                             The Album:

What was created?
An ebook companion to the cd composed of stories inspired by the songs
Who wrote the stories?
Thirteen writers crazy enough to donate 1,000 words
M.L. Gammella; Ruth LongSarah AislingLillie McFerrinJenn MontyJeff Tsuruoka;Lisa ShambrookLizze KochSamantha GearyNick JohnsL.E. JamezJeff Hollar; Bradley Richter.
Who created the cover art for the book?
Micah Van Zandt – artist, musician, performer, and all-around-cool-dude – used the writer's pictures to design a cover that mimicked the cd cover
Why would someone participate in this project for free?
To be part of a unique and first-of-its-kind creative collaboration
To support indie efforts ~ even across creative disciplines
To reach a new audience for their websites and books
When will the book be ready?
We're in the formatting queue and as soon as we clear that hurdle we'll update our posts and share the link (hopefully before the end of the week).
How can you join in the fun?
Read the stories (click on the writer links above)
Purchase the cd Amazon/CD Baby )
Leave feedback for the musicians and or writers
Support indie creatives across all disciplines

I had the first track of the album, "Sunday Afternoon" by The Poorhouse Millionaires. The title of the song was so perfect, I used that for the title of my story. There is a lot of nostalgia in the song and I think you will be able to pick up on that in my story.

Sunday Afternoon

"We shouldn't wait ten years before doing this again," Frank commented, looking
across the grass at the lively activity by he and his friends' families. Life, family, and
the usual things kept the three lifelong friends from seeing one another with any

"No, that's for sure," Joe agreed. He raised his hand to shade his eyes, peering into
the distance at the group of kids. "Is that your boy out in front of the pack?"

"Sure is," Frank replied with pride. "He's the fastest tight end that Marion High School
has ever seen. The coach can't wait to put him in the varsity team next fall."

The third of their trio, John, grunted and adjusted his worn ballcap. "We could use
speed like that at Carver. Our team is in desperate need of help."

"That's too bad," Frank commented. "Your boy doesn't play?"

"Oh, he does, but he's not in high school yet. You and Sharon got an early start on

Frank chuckled. The impending arrival of Frank Jr was a surprise for the university
juniors and made the young couple shift their priorities real quick. Sure, having a kid
while still in college wasn't a part of the plan, but they rolled with it and they both
still graduated on time.

Nearby, Frank's wife kicked a cooler lid shut, her hands full of ice-cold beers for the
men and their wives. Rollicking music accompanied the sway of her hips, the bluesy
tempo keeping time with her steps. Frank reminded himself of how thankful he was
for the woman who walked toward them.

Sharon was just as gorgeous today as she was when he first saw her at the University
of Alabama, talking with a group of her friends in the Quad. Sharon's long brunette
hair was the first thing that caught his eye, shimmering in the warm southern sun.
Now there were a few grays in her hair, but they had names: Frank Jr, Rose, and

"Here you go, boys," Sharon said as she handed each man his beer, then served the

Everyone mumbled their thanks and the sounds of caps being twisted from bottles
quickly followed.

Sharon and the other women walked toward where the children were playing while
Frank, Joe, and John continued to talk in the shade of a large elm tree.

"John, do you remember that one night by the old water tower, behind the high
school?" Joe asked, his eyes twinkling.

"How could I forget? We nearly got expelled for that stunt!"

Frank laughed after taking a sip of his beer. "You're lucky my daddy was the sheriff,
otherwise you would've had more problems than just being expelled!"

"Boy, don't I know it! My pa sure tore me a new one that night. I don't think I could sit
right for days."The three life-long friends chuckled, lost in their memories of that night and others.

Frank, Joe, and John kept law enforcement on their toes as they grew up and got
rowdy. Frank's father kept them out of the worst trouble, to the never-ending
gratitude of Joe's and John's parents.

"How is your father doing nowadays, John?"

"Ah, he has good days and bad days. Mom tries to do her best, but it may be time to
bring someone in. She can't do it by herself and she won't let me or Jenny help."
"I'm sorry, man. If there's anything we can do ... "

John shrugged and sipped his beer. "Thanks for the offer, but you can't stop the
clock, man. Time ticks for all of us."

"You're getting philosophical in your old age," Joe commented with a smirk.

"I was the philosophy major, remember?"

The three men started laughing again.

"Your dad was so mad. I remember him raging around the neighborhood talking
about his boy taking philosophy, 'some tree-huggin' hippie crap.'"

"I only did it to piss him off. I never wanted to go to college in the first place."

"You seemed to do well with it," Frank commented.

"Surprisingly enough, I did. Helps me now, that's for sure."

A familiar tune began to play on the radio, one that brought out the best memories of
their teenaged years and brightened the mood.

Frank turned the music up looked around eagerly for his wife. Taking the final sip of
his beer, he caught her eye and waved her over. Sharon turned and said something
to Cindy and Trina, Joe's and John's wives respectively. The three women laughed as
they walked toward their husbands. The collective group of children were following
their mothers, more or less. There were a few stragglers, notably the oldest three
who looked like they were up to something. The look was very familiar to the three

"Think they are taking after us?" John asked.

"Lord I hope not," Frank replied with a snort.

As soon as Sharon was close enough, Frank swept her up in his arms and began
dancing with her. Joe and John followed suit with their wives, and even the kids got
into the music.

Surrounded by the love of his life, his friends, and all their children, he couldn't think
of any place he'd rather be. "Can't get much better than this," Frank hollered over
the music, his smile stretched from ear to ear. "My love, my kids, and my friends and
I on this Sunday afternoon!"

"Here, here!" John and Joe echoed. "On this Sunday afternoon!"


Thanks for reading! Support your local indie authors and musicians!

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Finish That Thought #9

In my first foray into Alissa Leonard's Finish That Thought flash contest, I decided to visit some old characters from my 2012 NaNo novel (that I still haven't finished yet... sigh). They've been chattering in the ol' noggin so maybe it's time to bring them back out to play.


Incomplete Discovery

If Alana had known David would be there again, she would’ve brought the books she found in the Wardville Archives. She wasn’t expecting to see him until that evening at her house once he was done at his worksite. As it was, she only had copies of the pages she thought were the most important. They would have to be enough for now.

Momma’s Kitchen where they normally hung out while they worked through the mystery of Alana’s family and what the Destroyers wanted from her. They had breakfast at their usual small table in the back that morning.  Alana was still at the same table, but had come and gone several times throughout the day in her trips back and forth from the Archives.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Alana asked, making room for him at the table, pushing aside her various papers and her half-eaten plate of food.

 “Dad kept shooing me away, telling me he could finish up just fine without my help,” David replied with a shrug and sat down next to her. “Plus, I think he is more worried about what is going on with the Destroyers’ attacks than he is letting on.”

“Oh, really? Why? He sounded so relaxed when we were at your parents’ house the other night.” Alana started rubbing her triskele pendant, a habit she found herself doing more and more.

“He’s just acting weird, not like himself. Tense. Asks about you constantly.”

Alana looked at David with concern etched across her face. “So what does that mean? Does he think we’re going to lose?”

“No, not exactly…”

“That’s not encouraging,” Alana said flatly, roughly grabbing the top piece of paper from the messy stack and pulling away from David.

“Just being honest. He’s got a different mindset about how to handle this, how to handle the Destroyers than we do. However, he hasn’t seen the things we have.”

“No, he certainly hasn’t,” she muttered, shivering as she remembered.

David rubbed her arm and changed the subject. “Did you find out anything new today?”

“Yes, you’re going to want to read this.” Alana replied, handing him the piece of paper.

His eyes jumped across the page as he read aloud:

“A-waiting, gath'ring o'er, an evil lurks
For years will pass and storms will brew, to all
to lead to confrontation's final test.
To death, Destroyers fight before the Fall”

David let the page drop to the table, his face stunned. “Is this what I think it is?”

Alana nodded. “I think so. It’s the prophecy that we’ve been looking for all this time, but it doesn’t seem complete! Only one stanza and the bottom of the page is ripped. There has to be more.”

“Where in the Archives was this?”

“It was stuffed in the appendix of one of the family ledgers. I have no idea what book it was a part of originally.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep looking. This is too important.”


495 words


Thank you for reading!

Monday, September 2, 2013

The Monday Mixer - September 2nd

On this relaxing Labor Day, I took a stab at today's selection of words for Jeff Hollar's Monday Mixer. As soon as I saw the words, I knew what I wanted to do. The bolded words are the ones I picked.

Things:          1) slew              2) exemplar         3) decolletage
Verbs:           1) typify           2) debilitate           3) ensorcell
Adjectives:   1) prodigal        2) fractious           3) vainglorious


Abreast of the Situation

Durella stood in front of the mirror in her sitting room and adjusted her decolletage. The neckline of her gown was nearly scandalous with the amount of bosom showing but she wanted it that way. The fractious men she had to deal with would be well ensorcelled by the expanse of milky flesh and would be easier to coerce to her bidding.

Why, they'd practically be salivating, hoping, wishing for a glimpse of more. All it would take would be a sudden movement and she'd spill out of her gown, not that she'd allow that to happen. This wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, where she'd have to use her assets to make things happen. Never in those times had she ever slipped, much to the various lords chagrin.

She was a master manipulator and well, men were such simple creatures, even noble ones.

148 words

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

VisDare 33: Indifferent

This week was a bit harder for me to produce something for #VisDare, but I still went for it. Check out the other entries here.

Three paths were laid out before of her, each would take her in different directions. The left had more opportunity and was exciting, but was fraught with higher risk. The right was safer, but secure and had the potential to be dull. The middle, now that was the unknown. Did she have to choose either one or the other? Could she not have excitement risk tempered with security?

Without looking to either the left or the right, she forged on ahead. She would make her own path and not chose what had been expected of her from either side.  Eliana wanted safety and security but on her terms. There was room for excitement there, and opportunity, but it would on her terms only and not someone else's.

This was her life, and she was going to start living it. No one else was going to make that choice for her.

150 Words

55 Word Challenge - Week 70

Here's my foray into the 55 Word Challenge contest again. Interesting choice of pictures. Below is the picture I chose.

Title: Past the Point of No Return

Pushing past the twigs and bramble, we finally found the last portal. It was crumbling and eroding, but power still emanated from it. The waters that flowed from its center were said to be special and we eagerly drank. Little did we know what kind of portal this really was, until it was too late.


Thanks for reading!

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Friday Fictioneers!

I'm on a roll with flash fiction this week. Today I am trying out the Friday Fictioneers, another first for me.
I'm trying another snippet in the other new story I might be working on. Something more contemporary than the fantasy I was working on last week.


Elizabeth felt like dancing, something reminiscent of Gene Kelly’s title number from Singing in the Rain. The smile could not be wiped from her face as she walked down the street. Some people gave her strange looks as she passed, probably trying to figure out what she was so happy about. She wanted to shout from the rooftops until she was hoarse about Andrew.

Her happy thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. When she looked at the caller ID, her mood sank to the ground like a lead weight.

Valley Park Nursing Home.

She accepted the call with trepidation. They normally didn’t call. Did something happen to Daniel?


“Mrs. Anderson?”


115 words

Thank you for reading!

Visual Dare 32: Undecided

Another new (well new to me) flash fiction contest! Of course I had to try this one. This also allowed me to delve into another story that has been marinating around in my brain for the past few weeks. Here's the site which has the prompt and the link to the other entries.


Elizabeth stared at the glass of water, more uncertain that she had ever been in her entire life.

She had a marriage that all of her friends envied, only to have that all taken away by a freak work-site accident. The love of her life now laid comatose in a local nursing home,  and had been that way for the past ten years.

The vows she swore were for better or for worse, right?  Was this the worse? The doctors said there was hardly any chance he would ever wake up, yet she still wore her ring.

Did she have a right to try for that kind of love twice?

Andrew made her feel like she did when she first met Daniel. It was more than just feeling attractive, there were strong mutual feelings involved. But, she was still another man’s wife.  Could it happen twice in one lifetime?

149 words 

Thanks for reading!

Monday, August 5, 2013

The Monday Mixer - August 5th, 2013

I received an honorable mention last week with my foray into the Monday Mixer. It was so much fun that I decided to give it a whirl again. Check out the other entries here.

I decided to play in the same universe as last week's entry. I don't have a title yet, and I am still building the universe but I'm quite intrigued with what is coming together so far.


Sha’donar was in full swing, the religious celebration on eve to the start of battle. Mirja’a made her way through the crowd as they danced, drank, and sang to Upinde.

“Mirja’a! Have a drink with me,” Her’at called over, brandishing a wineskin. She took it dubiously, something about the man always made her uneasy.

She immediately spat out the liquid. "What is this plonk?" Mirja'a demanded.

"It's a special vintage," he explained.

Mirja'a sniffed the skin and her face darkened with rage. "It's been laced! The night before battle against the Bijeszio and you try to drug me?"

Her'at blenched. "Priestess-"

"Enough! You will not make me somnolent!" Mirja'a grabbed him by the collar of his robe and the edge of a tattoo caught her attention. "What? What is this?"

She ripped his robe open, revealing the mark of the Bijeszio. Mirja'a didn't have to ruminate over her next move.

@150 Words


Thanks for stopping by!

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Five Sentence Fiction - Bliss

In my stroll through the flash fiction contests, I found Five Sentence Fiction by Lillie McFerrin. What an interesting concept, with a picture and word - neither have to be used exactly but both have to inspiration. See the other enters here.


Title: New Kid on the Block

The name on the street was Bliss, a seemingly innocent looking cupcake laced with the latest concoction of mind-altering drugs. They were hard to trace since they looked so much like ordinary cupcakes, a typical favorite treat of kids and adults alike.

I had come across too many cakeheads on the street, their eyes wide like an excited dog, frosting still on their lips and crumbs in their laps.

The jails were full of people busted for the possession of Bliss, or at least a Bliss-like looking cupcake.

I used to love cupcakes, bastards.


#SatSunTails Microfiction Contest Week 51

Now that I'm trying to get back into the swing of things, I've discovered a whole slew of flash fiction contests that I didn't know about before. I've been subscribing like mad so I don't miss out.
Here's my first entry into the #SatSunTails Microfiction contest by Rebecca Clare Smith.

There is a picture and a word prompt. Check out the site for both.


Title: Surprise Gift

"You made it."

Audriana turned, and smiled as Elliot walked toward her with his hand extended.

"Of course I did," she replied, taking his hand.

Before she could speak again, he spoke, "Watch."

Butterflies came out from all directions and surround them, swirling and twirling. Audriana's jaw dropped as she watched in amazement. She jerked when she heard a whizz and a click immediately behind her head. Her butterfly clip flitting through the air, joining the other real butterflies.

"What is going on?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

"Just watch, it's a surprise."

The butterflies gathered around the golden mechanical one, swirling and gathering in tighter and tighter until it seemed like they couldn't get any closer to one another.

The air shimmered and the butterflies burst forth into one giant butterfly. All the different colors and sizes of the insects worked together as one entity, with Audriana's hairclip in the center.

"Amazing," she murmured.


Thanks for reading!

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

#55WordChallenge - Jezri's Nightmares - Week 68

So I'm on a roll this week. I've entered TWO flash contests in the same week!

Here is my entry in the #55WordChallenge

The weathered pier was a perfect spot for us to jump off of into the water. Our screeches of joy echoed off the water in all directions.

Until that day.

My sister misjudged her overambitious jump. I was too little to save her myself and screamed for help as her body sank below the surface.

-55 words

Monday, July 29, 2013

The Monday Mixer - July 29th, 2013

I think this is my first foray into the Monday Mixer... and is my official restart into flash fiction after I pretty much came to a screeching halt at the beginning of the year (or sooner then that based on my last blog post - wow it has been awhile).

So without any further ado, my entry into the Monday Mixer:


Mirja'a faced the mish-mash remnants of her tribe. The men and women before her were far from fine warriors, but this kludge was all that was left after the Bijeszio's attack on the Strijela

"We may be few, but we are mighty!" she yelled across the masses, her voice tremulous as emotion broke through. "Tragedy stole so many from us, so many mighty warriors, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers."

The priests and priestess behind her began to ululate, the pain of the tribe channeling through them. Their voices provided a backdrop as Mirja'a prepared everyone for the final fight.

"The Bijeszio thought they broke us," Mirja'a declared, strong and ringing. "They only made us stronger! Now is the time to strike!" She brandished her bow and held it above her head.

The voices of her tribe echoed her call. It was time for Sha'donar. It was time for revenge.

150 Words


Thanks for coming back - I am hoping to make this a regular thing again. I've missed this.


Edit - August 3 - I received an Honorable Mention for my entry! WOO!