The Next Big Thing ...

So I started this blog post shortly after NaNo but never quite finished it. Now, finally it is ready.

I was nominated by the delightful Donna McNicol to blog about my next big thing in progress. Since I finished (and won!) NaNoWriMo, it seemed fitting to use that story to answer some questions.

What is the title of your Work in Progress?
Guardians

Where did the idea come from for the book

I'm not sure exactly where, just that I knew I wanted to write a suspenseful, paranormal type of story. I tossed some ideas around, jotting different things down and discarding most of them, before the one that became the Guardians came together and stuck.

What genre does your book fall under?
Paranormal Suspense

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
Wow, I have them pictured so much in my head but it has been hard to find the one person who fits that bill. After perusing IMBD and Google, I got a little farther.

Alana Bachman - January Jones (as a brunette)

David Ward - Henry Cavill 

Curtis - John Heard

Frankie - Melanie Lynskey

Randall Ward - Donald Sutherland

William Ward - Ryan O'Neal

Katrina Ward - Frances McDormand

Unnamed Man in Black - Dwight Schultz

What is a one-sentence synopsis of the book?
Alana Bachman returns to her old hometown and discovers an earth-shattering family secret that puts her in grave danger, and with the help of her neighbor David, she learns the truth about her family and the power inside of her.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
I hope to be represented by an agency.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?
Well, I'll tell you when it's done! LOL I started Guardians during Nano of 2011, but because of work demands, I wasn't able to finish. I continued to pick away at the story, and got through a major chunk of it written during this year's Nano. I hope to finish it in the next month.

What other books would you compare this story to in your genre?
Due to some of the symbolism, probably Dan Brown's books but not as complex and there is a stronger romance sub-plot than his novels have.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?
The characters and the spirit of Nano.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
Alana's character is strong and opinionated, but has a fractured part of herself. She feels completely alone in the world, having no family left that she knows of. When she returns to Wardville, she thinks she is just trying to find herself, but there is more to her journey than that. The secrets of her family open up a whole new aspect of her life she never would have thought of or considered.

Here are my five author nominations, all awesome writers (duh!):
Sarah Aisling
J M Blackman
Jeff Tsuruoka 
Jen DeSantis
Jennifer Gracen

Check out their blogs soon to see what they are working on!

Happy Writing!

NaNoWriMo 2012: WINNER!

TADA!!!

NaNo Interview by Donna McNicol

A fellow #NaNoer, Donna McNicol, has been doing an interview series all this month of NaNo participants. Today was my day. Check out my interview in the link below and the others that have come before. Keep an eye on her blog each day in November for other interviews.

My Write Spot

Another When Part Two

Here is the continuation of my serial from the #DailyPicspiration blog.

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Picture 2


Title: Another When Part 2

I approached the time point with the trepidation of a sailor in the middle of a dense fog. There was no clear sight ahead, no way of knowing that this was the proper course, just the intuition that I was doing the right thing.

I hoped I was doing the right thing.

Would Margaret understand? Would I frighten her? If I was able to stop the actions that caused her death, wouldn't that be enough? I could return to my time and she'd be there with me, like she was supposed to be before she was so cruelly taken from me.

The way she looked, laying there like she was asleep, nearly unblemished except ... that. The blood-stained bath mat from our home ... so much blood. I shuddered, the memories as fresh as they were the day it happened.

Per the guidance in the book, I dressed in vintage clothing --my own that I never got rid of-- and had a wad of period appropriate paper currency shoved in an old leather wallet. In the breast pocket of my jacket, I carried Margaret's picture with me.

Finding the money had been more difficult than I realized it would've been. The world had done away with paper currency about a decade and a half ago and transferred everything to electronic credits. It was supposed to be easier to create a world economy that way. I still missed the feeling of a stack of bills in my wallet, another outdated item.

It took a few weeks, but I found a antiquities collector who had a large amount of the old paper currency. He said he bought it from a friend within the government when all of the known currency was on it's way to be destroyed. I paid quite a bit for the worthless paper but it would be the only way I'd be able to do anything when I went through the time point.

I was two steps away from the time point. To anyone else, there was nothing special about the cement sidewalk. Really, there wasn't anything special about it at all. It was what you couldn't see that was special. This was where the timelines merged. I had to walk through at just the right time to jump through time.

The Philosophy of Time Travel didn't tell me how to make the device to see the convergence of timelines, but further research had. Any kind of information was available if you had the credits to pay for it. The device I held in my hand only took a week to put together. It didn't look like much, but it worked, or at least appeared to work. I wasn't really sure how it knew that this was where the specific time line I needed merged with present day, but I honestly didn't care.

I had nothing to lose. Men that have nothing to lose do not ask why ... they just do what is necessary to win.

Holding the delicate device carefully in my hand, I closed my eyes, took a deep breathe and stepped forward. The air shimmered around me, almost like feathers ghosting along my skin. Sound was different, muffled and scattered.

I took another step. The device beeped and the air and sound returned to normal.

I opened my eyes.

#DailyPicspiration Week 18: Another When Part Two

Something A Little Different

Lately, I've devoted most of my focus of my blog on my #NaNo & #WIP500 novel, Guardians. But that's not the only thing I've been working on. Since May, I have run the #DailyPicpsiration blog that features a different author each day, with a story written by them based on photo prompts.  It is a fun way to explore different genres or even test those plot bunnies out. Most of my entries have been individual stories, but I've recently started a sci-fi serial called "Another When." I have two parts posted on the blog so far. Part three will be posted this Friday.

Here is Part One for your reading pleasure. :)

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Picture 2


Title: Another When Part 1

The book teased and cajoled me with the mystery of its contents. The modest brown cover mocked me with its seemingly innocent contents. What harm was there in a book? In the knowledge it could bring? Didn't that old PSA tout "The more you know, the more you grow?"

I reached out and caressed the soft, leather cover. The edges were a little worn but the gold foil lettering was still glossy. I wondered how many others had touched the cover of the book with such reverence.

"The Philosophy of Time Travel. What could you possibly tell me that could give me any guidance on what I'm about to do?"

The book didn't answer, not that I expected to get one.

There wasn't anything in the book that could dissuade me from what I planned to do. No mere words could stop the ache in my heart, the emptiness of my soul without her. The only thing that could stop my long suffering was her, to see her, to touch her, to talk to her. It was all her. It was always about her.

“I miss you,” I whispered to the photo that rested on my worn desk.

Gently, I slipped it out of the frame and held it between my papery fingers. The picture of Margaret had started to fade with age. It could fade to nothing and I would still remember what she looked like. The last image of her would remain burned into my retinas and into my mind until my last breath.

I was there when the photo was taken. I was the one behind the lens. We were in the field behind her house, talking about our future. Her shirt shone like fire in the setting sunlight with strands of her soft blonde hair stirring gently in the wind. Every so often, a bit of wild, winter wheat would brush her cheek, making her giggle.

I loved her giggle. I loved her. I love her still.

I miss her so much.

My hands shook, the picture trembling so much it looked like her hair was blowing in the wind once again. I put the picture back in its frame before I ruined it.

I took another moment to examine what my life had become, the old, worn desk, the dimly lit room, various papers and books stacked about. My life lacked the warmth it once had. It died when she did.

But, in another time, she wasn’t truly dead, was she? She lives on, in another place, in another when … and I will find her.

#DailyPicspiration Week 14: Another When Part 1

How About a NaNo Nugget?

I've survived my first week of Nano and thought I would share an excerpt of my efforts of my story, Guardians. Any of you who have been reading my #SixSentence submissions on the blog, you'll get a bit more this time around.

Alana stuffed the letter in her back pocket and pounded down the stairs, determined to march over to David's house and give him a piece of her mind and demand some answers.

It was at that moment, just as she was about to pull open the door, that someone knocked. Full of righteous anger, not caring who was on the other side of the door, she ripped it open. No one was more startled than she was that the target of her aggravation was standing on the other side of the door.

David had a huge smile on his face, which quickly changed to confusion when he saw the murderous look on her face. She grabbed the letter from her pocket and trust it in his face.

"What is this about? Why am I the last to know?"

His face blanched as she stepped closer to him and started poking him in the chest with her other hand.

"What do you know about this? About this family I'm a part of?"

David grasped the hand that was poking him and pulled the letter from the other. "Well, hello to you too, Alana," he replied.

She huffed and pulled her hand from his grasp, resting both hands on her hips.

"Alana, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"What do you mean you don't know? Evelyn said to ask the Wards. See?" She nearly ripped the letter in half as she yanked it from him. Alana angrily unfolded the letter and showed it to him. "See? Evelyn said to ask the Wards, that you guys would know what is going on and be able to help me."

"Give me a second to read this," he asked, as his eyes flicked back and forth across the page.

Alana huffed again and folded her arms across her chest.

"What the hell?" he whispered as he finished the letter and folded it back up.

"My thoughts exactly," she replied. "What the hell is going on?"

"I have no idea. She said to ask my parents, though, not me. I have no idea what this is about."

"Truly? You haven't been keeping any information about my family from me?"

David's face softened. He stepped closer to her and cupped her cheek. "No, Alana. I have not kept anything from you."

She closed her eyes and leaned into the warmth of his hand. Alana could not believe how relieved she was that he didn't know about her family either.

"Now, can we start this over?" he asked. "It seems like we have a habit of doing that."

Alana chuckled. "I suppose we do. I apologize that I came at you like that without any warning."

#SixSentenceSunday Week 17

The last Sunday before NaNo! Are you ready?

While waiting with pens poised and laptops charged, enjoy my newest six sentences for #SixSunday from my WIP, Guardians.

As she approached the corner, just as she opened her mouth to confront the man, a truck pulled up at the intersection, blocking her view. The truck pulled away a moment later and the man was gone.

Frustrated, she looked around to see where the man may have walked off to, but he was no where in sight. The only people around were other normal people in town. It was really like the man was just a figment of her imagination. No one else seemed concerned about this strange man in town.

Thanks for reading!

My Expert NaNo Advice

It seems you can't go very far in the writing blogsphere this month without seeing someone adding their two cents with their "go-to" method for writing during National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo or NaNo). If I had a nickel for every post I saw just with tips or how-to's, I'd be rich. So, I figured I'd join in the foray and add in my expert advice on how to survive and succeed at NaNo. I'm sure you are just waiting with bated breath to see what kind of enlightenment I can add to the horse that has been beat to death already. So here goes.

My expert, all-knowing, sure-fire method for writing during NaNo:




WRITE

#SixSentenceSunday Week 16

Gearing up for Nano has been getting the creative juices flowing. Can't wait to start making some headway.

In the meantime, here's six more sentences of Guardians.

David laughed nervously and finished his glass of wine. He set the glass down, moved his silverware around his plate, then took a sip of his water. Alana watched the whole exchange with amused excitement. For as confident and self-assured as David was, it was cute to see him so nervous.

"Okay, we're friends, right?"

Alana nodded. "I certainly hope so."

So, where do you think David was going with this? Hmmm?

What do your your six sentences say?

#SixSentenceSunday Week 15

Progress has been good this week. I am making strides on my manuscript. Yay!  I am also participating in NaNo this year. Hopefully that will give me the extra push to get this story finished. Woo! Here is another snippet from my WIP, Guardians.

The man slowly approached her and gestured with his hand again. Slowly, Alana pulled her pendant out from under her shirt and held it out to him without removing it from her neck. He nodded and touched it reverently.

"Would you like to see it?" she asked as she started to pull the chain over her head.

He shook his head and pressed his hand against hers, keeping the pendant in place. When she dropped the chain, he released her hand with a nod.

Thank you for reading! What do your six sentences say?

#SixSentenceSunday Week 14

It's Sunday again, and here's a new set of sentences for #SixSunday from Chapter 4 of my WIP, Guardians. I'm slowly making progress in the manuscript. I hope to really make some waves with it in the next several months. Thanks for reading!

Her eyes flew open when a chilly gust of wind blew over her basket. As she sat up, she noticed a man was approaching her. Quickly, she packed up her basket and stood as the man caught up to her. He looked vaguely familiar and was walking with a cane of some kind.

"Can I help you?" Alana asked.

He frowned and pointed out across the horizon.

What will your sentences say?

#SixSentenceSunday Week 13

Ah, another Sunday and another six sentences. I'm getting a little farther in Guardians, which is hopeful for me. Sometimes I get mired in a scene and I don't want to continue on until it is perfect, but then I have to remind myself to just get it down ... period. Then I can go back and tweak once it's all laid out. That has helped, when I can remember.

Although I started this story last November with #Nano (and failed horribly), I hope to continue with this and maybe hopefully make some significant progress. I have another story I've been tossing around with the details but it really hasn't coalesced into something solid enough yet for me to try to work on. I'm waaay too OCD in my writing organization to just write by the seat of my pants.

Anyway, without any further ado, my six for #SixSunday. What will your six sentences say?

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at it, blood began to ooze from the shard.

With a shout, she dropped the glass to the ground and furiously scrubbed at her hand, looking for any sign of a cut. The palm of her hand was flawless. Alana looked back down at the shard and the other pieces of her window lying around. They were all bleeding.

A baby's cry pierced the air.

Thank you for reading.

Hump Day Anyone?

So today finds me in my favorite hidey-hole to write, a local coffee house/creperie that has free wifi (score!). It is a nice break from work.

I didn't win #MenageMonday but I had fun with the prompt. #MotivationalMonday and #TuesdayTales didn't pan out but I did participate in #55WordChallenge today (and I miss #HumpDayChallenge too - that was a fun one).

The pictures were quite engaging today but I was instantly drawn to the first one. The Muse spoke. Enjoy!

Title: The Best for Last

The grass was the last thing I saw.

There was no warning when the plague hit. I thought I had beat it, having lived longer than my neighbors and others.

I stared as my vision dimmed, the vibrant grass mocking me as I died.

I was wrong. The plague came for us all.

Monday and Menage and Writing...

Oh my - vacation was great. I had such a good time with my husband. I didn't get a lot of writing done (hardly at all) but it was nice just to decompress from everything. Sure Vegas is pretty busy but I didn't have to worry about work calls or sending out docs, just relaxing and enjoying myself.

This week I'm also trying to get back into flash fiction again. My friend, the ever awesome @caramichaels reminded me that too often we give up on ourselves. If we can't commit to an hour of writing a day, do what we can, even if its 15 minutes or a half hour.

So here I sit, before I start my creative writing class, and I managed to put together an entry for her #MenageMonday contest. I need to get back into the swing of things, especially with Nano quickly approaching (Can you believe OCTOBER isn't that far away?!).

I am going to try to do #MotivationalMonday too but I'm not sure how much time I will have.

In the mean time, here's my entry for #MenageMonday for today, 9/17/12

Title: Coffee Break

The house stood as a silent sentinel as I put my bags in the car. It wasn't much of a house, but it was mine for the moment. The 'for sale' sign glared brightly, accusing me of breaking apart the family that once lived inside.

It wasn't my fault that Allen was an asshole who decided that Cindy, the barrista at his favorite coffee shop, was a tall drink of water that he just had to sip. No, it wasn't my fault that his dick seemed to prefer her coffee, but it was my fault that the house was for sale.

He never thought I would've gone to the same coffee shop. It was strictly by accident, in the big city we lived in, that I pulled in the same day that Allen was there, mid-taste and up against the back of the building with Cindy.

Allen was lucky I didn't dump my latte on him, but the coffee there was just too good to waste, even on him.

Guess I'll need to find a new coffee shop in Arizona. I'll suffer for awhile in the heat, but it was a new start for the new season of my life.

Thanks for reading.

#SixSentenceSunday Week 12

Another Sunday, another six sentences. While you are reading this, I am thousands of feet in the air as start my vacation. I hope you enjoy another nugget of my WIP Guardians. Also, check out the other authors' sentences on #SixSunday

Officer Alva nodded at his partner and squared his shoulders, his posture stiff as he turned towards Alana. "Ms. Bachman, there is only one set of fingerprints on the car."

"What?"

His partner spoke up. "This can happen if the perpetrator used gloves, but there also isn't any other evidence, like a stray strand of hair or fibers of fabric."

"So what does that mean?"

Have a great week! What do your six sentences say?

#SixSentenceSunday Week 11

Happy Sunday!

I hope you are enjoying your Labor Day weekend. Today's hook for #SixSentenceSunday is a bit of a jump ahead in my WIP, Guardians. I normally don't jump around when I write, as I tend to be a 'chrono' but this time, the scene spoke to me. What would happen if Alana took her pendant off? If it's just a family heirloom, it wouldn't matter, right?

Carefully, she pulled the pendant over her head, the chain catching on a few stray hairs on the way. Once it was completely free of her head, Alana felt even more anxious. Something felt very wrong.

“I think this was a mistake-“

Thunderous booms cut her off and the room filled with swirling blackness. The voices cackled and surrounded her.

Thanks for reading!

What will your six sentences say?

#SixSentenceSunday - Week 10

Happy #SixSentenceSunday!

This week I spent most of my time going through my WIP and revising it to remove any instances of passive voice so I didn't get a whole lot more written. I wanted to catch the passive voice before I got much farther into the manuscript. So, this week's six sentences follows pretty closely to what my previous six were.

Check out the other authors participating in #SixSentenceSunday at http://sixsunday.com/

From Guardians:

The sun glinted across her car, and on the shattered remnants of her driver’s side window that littered the ground. Horrified, Alana ran over to her car, careful of all the broken class. At first glance, nothing else seemed damaged, just the window but Alana was afraid to disturb anything until the cops were there. Broken glass was everywhere, what wasn’t on the ground was all over the driver’s seat and the floor of the car.

It was unusual that there was even any glass on the ground at all. If someone tried breaking in the car, most of the glass should be on the inside, not outside. 

Thank you for reading!

#SixSentenceSunday - Week 9

Hey - two weeks in a row! I'm on a roll! Perhaps there is hope for me yet.  Best yet is the fact that I have actually gotten back into the nitty-gritty and made some real progress with my WIP, Guardians. I was beginning to think that perhaps it was going to be relegated to the "drawer" along with my previous unfinished novel. *fingers crossed* I will keep going!

So here's a snippet of what I've done this week for my #SixSentenceSunday submission. This is a good way to keep my on task. I need to have something new to put in every week! :)


From Guardians:

Curtis became pensive. “The triskele has power, if you believe the old legends. Some of the books your grandmother bought have information about it.”

“But they are just legends, right?”

He shrugged. “Depends on who you talk to.

Thanks for reading! What do your sentences say?

#SixSentenceSunday - Week 8 ... kind of

For those of you that had been reading  my snippets for #SixSentenceSunday probably wondered what hole I fell into - I'm not even sure myself. Apparently my muse up and left. I haven't even been participating in the weekly flash fiction contests as much as I used to do. I still try but the mojo has been lacking. Thankfully, I think my muse came back with my mojo (my mind thinks back to the Austin Powers movie when Dr. Evil takes a vial of Austin's mojo while he's frozen in statis ... LOL yes, my mind is a weird place). So, I finally signed up for #SixSentenceSunday again and hope to continue with my WIP. I'm nearing the end of what I've already written so time to put myself to task. Everything is outlined, so I just gotta put it down on paper (or type - since this is obviously a website). LOL

Enjoy this installment of my six sentences. Peruse my blog for the rest of my submissions if this piques your interest. From Guardians

Curtis face darkened. “Look, miss, I’m not sure what game you are trying to pull. Evelyn Quinlan changed my diapers a time or two when I was young and our families were close. If anyone survived that accident, I would have known. Not only that, everyone in this town knows about the horrible tragedy that the family suffered. So for you to parade around here as Evelyn’s long dead granddaughter is just not right and is high offensive.”

Check out the numerous other authors who participate at SixSunday.com. What will your #SixSentences say?

Dream House - from Week 4 #DailyPicspiration

The #DailyPicspiration blog continues to be a success. :) I've had some success with the prompts in trying different genres. Here's my second offering from Week 4:

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Picture 2


M L Gammella’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: Dream House

They had finally done it. After saving every extra penny and dollar they could, they finally bought their dream house. It was an older home, one of the oldest on the block, with narrow stairs, built in cabinets, and shelves that weren’t found in modern homes anymore. It was one of the many things that drew them to the house.

Emily especially loved the pocket doors that separated the formal dinning room from the living room and foyer. Sure, they didn’t really need a formal dinning room but the house had such charm, she couldn’t say no. Craig felt the same. He loved the large backyard and imagined all the barbecues they could have and their future kids running around playing with the family dog.

So it was a no-brainer for them when they put an offer down. They heard the stories about the house, about things that had happened years before, but they didn’t put any weight on them. They even laughed over it -- the irony that a ghost that allegedly haunted the house was named Emilia. People had lived happily in the house since then without incident. The stories were just that, stories ... the kind of tales told to kids at Halloween to scare them.

The first week they were in the house, they eagerly kept an eye out for anything supernatural, curious to see if their ghost would ever materialize. It became a game for the happy couple, with every bump or odd noise that they heard, they giggled and mouthed ‘Emilia.’ When nothing appeared, they shrugged their shoulders and went on with their life.

...

A few months after they moved in, they were in their favorite spot of the house, the narrow stairwell connecting the first floor and the second floor. The stairway proved to be quite a pain when moving furniture, but it was a perfect spot for them to unwind and relax with a cup of tea.

Emily sat with her legs tucked over top Craig’s lap and her hair was piled loosely on her head. Craig looked tired, the day had been long and frustrating, plus he hadn’t slept well. The warmth from the teacups was soothing for both of them.

“So what’s the plan?”

Craig signed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure. John said that the implementation needs to be completely revamped and so now we need redo what took us six months to create in a matter of weeks.”

“Oh jeez, that sounds horrible.”

“It’s a part of the job. Stuff like this happens; it’s not desireable but it happens. We’ll get through it one way or another.”

Emily sipped her tea cup, swirling the remaining contents gently around. “That’s a good way to look at it. Certainly more productive than what Roger tends to do.”

Craig chucked as he drank the last of his tea. “Yeah, he’d rather complain about the problem to everyone and anyone who will listen instead of just doing something about it. That’s why he’s still just a tech and hasn’t been promoted.”

Emily laughed as she started to unwind herself from Craig. They both jumped when a loud crack reverberated from somewhere on the second floor.

“Jesus, what the hell was that?” she asked, clutching her teacup tightly.

“I’m sure it was just the wind or maybe Emilia blowing a door shut. I think the upstairs windows were open,” Craig said lightly, putting the incident behind him.

Emily smiled and continued downstairs to the kitchen to clean up before bed. While she was washing their teacups, she heard the shower start. An idea popped in her head, making her blush and finish up as quickly as possible.

With a spring in her step, Emily hurried up the steps, pulling her sweater over her head. She had just tossed it to the side when she thought she heard someone, someone other than her husband.

“Hello? Craig?”

No one answered her although she could hear Craig singing badly in the shower. Feeling uneasy and her amorous mood broken, she continued up the steps and grabbed her sweater from the floor.

When she walked into their bedroom, she noticed that the windows were closed. Emily shrugged and put her clothes in the hamper and changed for bed. She had just slipped her robe on when the doorknob from the bathroom jiggled several times.

“Em, are you in the bedroom?” Craig’s voice called out from the other side of the door.

“Yes, Craig. What is it?” she called over her shoulder, running a bristle brush through her hair.

“The door isn’t opening. Is it locked on your end?”

“No, I don’t think so, but let me check.”

Emily put her brush down and walked to the bathroom door. As she reached out to try the knob, the bedroom curtains billowed out fiercely, yet the window was closed.

“What the ...”

She stepped back from the door as the curtains continued to whip around the room. Craig continued to try to open the door but it was not working.

“Emily, is it locked? Can you open it from your side?”

She turned to answer him and didn’t see what was approaching her until it was too late.

A pale apparition appeared before her, the edges of the phantom woman’s dress swirling around as the curtains danced. The woman did not look happy.

“Wh-who are you?” Emily whispered as she took a step away from the approaching specter. “Are you Emilia?”

The ghost did not respond. Her face twisted into a snarl and the wind continued to build, blowing small items off of Emily’s dresser. Emily was too frozen in fear to do anything but watch the perfume bottles and eye shadow compacts fall to the floor and shatter. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Emily’s heart was pounding so hard, she was afraid she might have a heart attack. She didn’t know if she should run or fight, or if she could even fight a ghost. Then there was Craig. Emily couldn’t run and abandon Craig to fend for himself.

Craig’s voice cut through the racket in the room as he tried the door again. The ghost’s eyes flicked over past Emily’s shoulder to the door behind her. Her expression melted from hate to longing. Emily’s blood ran cold.

“No! You stay away from him!” Emily hissed, drawing the ghost’s attention back to her.

The apparition’s face twisted in fury and the temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees in a matter of seconds.

“Go! I don’t know why you are here, but go! Leave this place!’ Emily shouted, feeling emboldened by her success in distracting the female ghost from her husband.

The ghost smiled, her expression saccharine while her eyes glittered. She raised her hands and the curtains tore from their rods and began flying across the room. Emily ducked as one flew by her head. She stood, looking to confront the horror that was destroying her bedroom.

With a howl, the ghost flew straight at her. Emily screamed and covered her face before everything went dark.

...

“Wow, Emily, that door is certainly tricky. I’ll have to find our WD-40 and oil that before one of us gets stuck in there again,” Craig said as he walked out of the bathroom, scrubbing a towel across his wet head.

“I’m sure it’s in the garage.”

“You coming to bed, sweetheart?”

“Yes, dear, just finishing with my hair.” She looked in the mirror and fluffed her hair, so different than what she was used to dealing with.

“It looks great, it always does.”

“Thank you,” Emilia said, as she climbed into bed and ran her hands over Craig’s chest. This body would serve its purpose indeed. She couldn’t wait to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh again. It had been far too long.

As always, check out the other great entries at picspiration.blogspot.com

The Daily Picspiration Blog

A few weeks ago, I started a blog with my friend @Kimmydonn that uses photos as a writing exercise. We invited some of our friends within the writing world on Twitter and formed a great group of people. Each day features a different prompt by a different writer based on the schedule for that week. A few people post every week, some every other week. It's a great exercise and allowed me to get to know some really awesome people.

Every day at 10am, a prompt is posted. Tweets are sent out after that, and eventually I post a link on my Facebook author page. We've had a really great response so far. I can't wait to see where we are in a month or two.

Today was also my day on the #DailyPicspiration blog. I decided to use both pictures. As of late, I've been writing more supernatural, darker stuff, but this is where the picspiration led me.



Picture 1


Picture 2


Title: The Final Swing

She really hated golf. Her lack of ability probably had a lot to do with it. No matter how hard she tried, Elena couldn’t get her stupid, little ball farther than a few feet down the green. This would’ve been fine had she and Richard been playing mini-golf but they weren’t.

She was being tortured at Richard’s favorite golf range, where, of course, he had a membership. And Richard, the self-proclaimed golf pro, was adamant that she would learn to golf even if it killed her.

Elena wasn’t so sure.

They were there for the upteenth time that summer, and Elena had to fight the urge to roll her eyes every time Richard tried to explain his winning technique to her yet again.

“Come on, Elena, it’s not that hard.” Richard sighed, his exasperation with her starting to come out.

He wasn’t nearly as irritated as she was. She huffed and fought the urge to throw her golf club to the ground. “Clearly, it must be if I am still having difficulty. Face it, Richard, I suck at golf. What’s the big deal if I can’t golf anyway?”

Richard put his hands on his hips and forced a smile on his face. “Elena, sweetheart, I’ve explained this to you before. Deals and promotions are made on the green. The guys at the firm and all of their wives play, and play well. If we don’t impress them with our playing, then I won’t get the promotion and ... and they will think I’m a fool if you don’t play well.” Richard took a steadying breath and tried to keep his smile on his face. “All you have to do is hit that tiny, little ball across the green. Just swing and hit.”

Elena gritted her teeth at his condensation and swung her club. Instead of a resounding thwack, all she heard was the slight whistle of her club moving through the air. When she looked down, her pristine white Titleist golf ball laid in the neatly manicured grass on its tee, mocking her.

Richard stomped off to their golf cart, swearing under his breath. Elena wanted to pick up the ball and throw it at his head. When he turned around to face her again, his expression wasn’t nearly as kind as it had before. She wished she had thrown the ball at him.

“Elena, I swear to God, are you doing this on purpose?” he demanded as he strode toward her. “Are you trying to sabotage my career? Do you hate me this much? All I have asked you to do is hit the damn ball. How hard is that? Seriously, explain this to me. You swing the club, you hit the ball. Are you so stupid that you can’t handle the coordination of doing those two things?”

As she blinked back tears, Elena tried very hard to remember the young boy she fell in love with and not the ungrateful son-of-a-bitch before her. He hadn’t always been this way. Once upon a time, he was sweet, affectionate, and attentive. The Richard she knew never would’ve talked to her the way the man before her was. He never would be so condescending and dismissive. She realized she didn’t really know Richard anymore.

“You know what, Richard? I’m done. This is absolutely ridiculous.” Elena pushed past Richard and tossed her golf club onto the cart.

“What do you mean, you’re done?” he demanded as he grabbed her arm. “We still have ten holes to play.”

“Now who is the one being stupid? I mean that I’m done, Richard. I’m done beating myself up trying to learn to play golf. I’m done dealing with your attitude and being talked down to all the time. You’ve changed ever since you started working for the firm and I don’t like what you’ve become. I’m not putting up with it anymore.”

Elena pulled her arm from Richard’s grip and started walking away.

“You can’t leave me, Elena,” Richard said quietly, his fists balled up at his sides.

She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. “Watch me, Richard. Is that too hard for you to understand?”

Without another word, Elena climbed in their golf cart as he sputtered with indignation. She drove away heading back to the clubhouse and he tried running after her, brandishing his golf club. “You’re just going to leave me here? You stupid bitch!”

If she heard what he said, she paid it no mind and kept going.

Once he reached the clubhouse, Elena was long gone. He panted as he tried to catch his breath, resting his hands on his thighs. Richard noticed that there were several people watching him, snickering as they talked amongst themselves. Several of them were from his office and no doubt would be filling everyone else in about what happened come Monday morning.

His blood boiled over this further embarrassment by his wife. Richard knew that he would be the laughing stock for some time to come. That promotion he had been vieing for was surely out of reach now. Richard angrily grabbed his cell phone and called a taxi to come take him home. He and his dear, sweet wife were in need of a good, long talk.

In the short time it took to reach his home, his anger had not abated. If anything, it had grown. He had plenty of time to go over every second of his humiliation at the golf course and everything Elena had done wrong. She would not shame him like that a second time. He wouldn't allow it. Richard wondered what happened to the sweet, caring girl he once fell in love with.

When he walked through the front door, the house was quiet. Neat and tidy as always, but quiet. Normally Elena had music playing or the television was on.

"Elena?" His voice echoed through the house.

"I'm in your office, dear," Elena called through the house, her voice surprisingly light and pleasant after what had just happened.

"What are doing in my office?" he yelled as he strode quickly towards the back of the house. While he didn’t bar Elena from entering his office, she normally didn't go in there.

"Just doing some cleaning, Rich," she replied sweetly, using a nickname she hadn’t used in a long time.

A wave of panic and apprehension overcame Richard as he walked the last several feet to his office. Something was wrong and Richard had a feeling he wouldn't like it one bit.

As soon as the door swung open, he saw his wife first. She was sitting casually on the sofa that was on the far side of the room. Her face was hidden in the shadows but what was in front of her was not.

In a mangled pile of bronze, wood, and gold were all his precious golf trophies he won over the years. Statuette arms reached out in supplication from the debris, bits of splintered wood and metal littered the floor. They were beyond repair. A few had gotten dinged over the years from being accidentally dropped but this was much different. This was intentional destruction.

Only then did he realize the television was on. The volume was muted but he instantly recognized what was playing. It was his and Elena's wedding video from seven years prior.

"Elena, what did you do?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago." Elena stood and walked into the light from the television screen. In her hand was a driving wedge, his favorite one.

Finally realizing that perhaps he had pushed Elena too far, he backed up a few steps. "Elena, perhaps we can talk about this. If you could just put the wedge down ..."

"Oh, you want me to put the wedge down?" Elena's voice became tight with barely controlled fury. "Now you want me to put the wedge down? What about before, Richard? You said just swing and hit, right?"

She swung back with the heavy club and brought it down forcefully on the pile of statues and trophies. Cheap metal and polyresin snapped and crunched as she continued to inflict punishment on her husband's most prized possessions.

"Just like this, swing and hit the ball, right Richard? Just swing and hit, it isn't hard! Am I doing it right now, Richard? Am I?"

"Yes, you're doing just fine, Elena. Perfect form. I couldn't be prouder," he whispered, taking another step away from his wife.

Elena whirled on her husband. "Don't you dare patronize me, you bastard!" She stalked over to him, holding the wedge rigidly in her hand.

Richard backed against the wall as she continued to approach. He had never seen this side of his wife before.

She stopped only a few feet from him, a proximity he had enjoyed in the past. Now he was afraid of what she would do with the wedge. He had no idea what she would do next.

"I hope you enjoyed your golf game today, Richard, because it's likely to be your last for some time." Elena poked Richard in the chest with his wedge. "So what's worse for your image at your office, Richard? A wife who has the audacity to be bad at golf or an ex-wife takes you to the cleaners so the only golf game you can afford is mini-golf?"

Before Richard could formulate an answer, Elena thrust the wedge at him and sneered. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

Elena turned on her heel and walked out of the room without looking back. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders that she didn’t realize she had been carrying. As she started her car and backed out the driveway, she cracked a smile and turned the radio on. Richard was no longer her problem and no one would make her play golf ever again.

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Thanks for reading! Check out this entry and all the the others on the blog at: Daily Picspiration

#FridayPictureShow Flashes from March to June

And here's the final day to get caught up, the #FridayPictureShow. This is still one of my favorite contests because of the 100 word exact rule. It definitely makes you think as a writer on how to get the best feel and imagery out in a set number of words. The contest has really helped me not be so unnecessarily verbose.

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3/30/12

Title: The Road to ...

I stood in the middle of the maelstrom, my sanity wearing thin. So many things were going through my head as I tried to figure out my next move. Any choice I made felt like it would be the wrong one, leading down a treacherous bridge to no where. No matter what I did, someone was going to die.

Visions of futures tore through my mind. Explosions and earthquakes, the sound of people crying out.

How could I keep these futures from happening? Everything I thought I knew seemed to be wrong. I had to try ... something. Anything. 

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5/4/12

Title: Inside

(#WIP500)

The darkness built up inside of her, bouncing from one end to the other. Alana didn’t know what to make of it. It was like she was possessed.

Wait. Possessed?

"No," she whispered, horrified.

The destroyers had finally gotten to her, despite every attempt she made. At a moment of weakness, when she had only momentarily removed her pendant, they swept in.

The bone-chilling cold filled her. She felt ill. She felt dark. She felt ... like one of them.

A laugh boiled up from deep inside her gut, but it was without humor.

"You're ours now," a voice boomed.

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5/11/12

No Title

The building was decrepit and in need of repair. The continued exposure to the canal that flowed along side the old brick structure had sped up the rate of deterioration.

Many said that the building should be torn down, that it was an eye sore and a public health issue if it collapsed. However, no one was willing to set up and try. No one had entered the building since it closed under suspicious circumstances fifty years ago.

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6/1/12

Title: Skin Deep

Forty-two times. Forty-two times he tested me. Forty-two times he tried to dominate me.

Forty-two times I never gave in. Forty-two times I won. Forty-two times I responded in kind.

For each mark on my back, I gave him a matching gash in his chest. His heart beat an additional forty-two times after.

Now, I will not allow anyone to put myself in that position again. Forty-two marks on my back to keep me strong.

As I brush my hair, to anyone else, I look like an ordinary woman without a care in the world. How appearances can be deceiving.

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6/8/12

Title: A Rose By Any Other Name

As people passed, most would see a beautiful arrangement of flowers that had been stuffed into a garbage can, perhaps from a jilted lover or a bad date. John Anthony chuckled over the seemingly innocuous visage.

In just under an hour, the city would find out what was carefully tucked into the floral tape that held the bouquet together. It may be small, but it packed a serious punch.

He had ideas that were being pushed aside. John Anthony did not like being ignored. The government would finally listen to him once they saw what happens when they don’t listen.

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Aaaaand now we are caught up! Thanks for reading!

#ThursdayThreads Flashes from March to June

Here's the collection of the flashes I did for #ThursdayThreads, catching this one up too. I was able to write some of these based on my #WIP500 story, Guardians, as well. Woo!

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3/29/12

Title: Clash of the Clichés  

Marissa typed furiously on her laptop, determined to make the scene really pop. She had deleted and re-written the same scene so many times, it was like Groundhog Day in the bedroom of her book.

She tried picturing the scene in her head like a movie. She tried reading the scene out loud. She even tried posing herself in her own bed to see if the positions she was describing were even possible (they were).

Yet, Marissa was at a loss.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushed her computer away from her and turned on the TV. She flipped through several channels before giving up and shutting the TV off again.

Opening her laptop back up, she queued up the scene and read aloud.

“Lindsey, the innocent and virginal blushing bride, trembled before her new husband nervous and unsure. Her husband wasn’t nearly as shy or nervous. He waltzed brazenly around their chamber, as nude as the day he was born. His manly sword stood out and swung in all its glory as he moved.

She couldn’t keep her eyes away from it. Oh yeah, it was that big. Lindsey wasn’t sure exactly where Harold had planned on putting it; at least not where she thought it was supposed to go.”

“Ugh!  Curse you clichés!” Marissa yelled, deleting not only the section but the entire story. “I don’t think I’m cut out for bodice rippers. Time to try science fiction.”

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5/31/12

Title: Broken Promises

(#WIP500)

The maelstrom was deafening. Alana huddled in her living room and watched in horror as the black apparitions swirled around the house. As much as she hoped David would return soon, she was worried what would happen to him if he tried to get through what had surrounded her house.

The howling became louder as the house began to creak, the high-pitched noises of straining wood pierced through everything else.

Alana nervously looked at the door and window frames where the Ward family seal was engraved. David promised her that the destroyers couldn’t get past the seal. It certainly seemed like the destroyers were trying their best to prove him wrong.

She clutched her and her grandmother’s pendants as she backed up against the wall farthest from the windows. The shrieks coming from the wood became snaps. Hairline cracks started to form along the window frames.

Suddenly, the noise stopped and the room was still. In disbelief, Alana pushed away from the wall and took a tentative step towards the windows. Surely the destroyers hadn’t given up so quickly.

Alana was blown back against the wall as the destroyers rebounded. The windows shattered, pelting her with shards of glass.  The protective family seals were pulverized.

She heard maniacal laughter as crushed brown fragments blew away on the breeze and the apparitions rushed inside.

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6/7/12

Title: The Final Countdown

(#WIP500)

They raced towards the town hall, the wind whipping along at their feet and blowing debris into their faces. Alana and David didn’t know what to expect once they got there, only that it would be the final confrontation. They had prepared all they could for this moment, now it was time to see if it was enough.

Before they stepped across the threshold that was littered with broken glass, David grabbed Alana’s hand and pulled her gently towards him.

“No matter what happens, you know I love you, right?”

Alana’s face softened and she cupped his face with her free hand. “I know. Let’s get this over with, okay? Before the destroyers decimate any more of the town?”

She squeezed his hand before letting go and carefully stepping over the bits of glass and wood strewn across the ground.

As soon as they were in the building, it was like they were in another world. Noise from the outside disappeared and the overwhelming silence was deafening. The overhead florescent lights were out and only the backup emergency lights were glowing. The shadows managed to hide most of the damage but it was apparent even under the low light that someone or something had already been there ... and was waiting for them.

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Thank you for reading!

#55Word Challenge Flashes from March to June

I had just started the #55WordChallenge flash contest during this time frame, so this will be completely caught up.  The site can be found at: http://www.lisamccourthollar.com/

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5/2/12

Title: The Path Ahead

It was a dichotomy, the wind and fire, the sand and storm. No one understood how the place existed, but understanding was not necessary.

It was sacred, magical.

Only the best of us made it this far. We looked upward and were gifted with our destiny. Now it was up to us to fulfill it.

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5/9/12

Title: Strange New World

In the depth of rock, a new world exists. A single beam of light illuminates the alien environment full of strange plants and growing things. Even the air smells different, like there is something more ... more alive to this place.

As my feet touch down on this new earth, I wonder what I’ll find.

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5/16/12

Title: End of an Age

With every drip and drizzle from the tunnel, the ravine slowly died. Its life leeched away by the polluted sludge that crept along the water’s bed. No longer could the waters feed and protect the delicate tiny creatures and beings that resided in the soft soil and tender greens. 

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5/30/12

Title: The Road Less Travelled

The two pills in my hand looked relatively innocuous, but one would change my life dramatically.

I quickly swallowed the green pill and closed my eyes. The beeps of the life support system faded into nothing as my body prepared for cryo-sleep.

Upon waking, I’d find myself on the brink of a brand new world.

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Thank you for reading.

#TuesdayTales Flashes from March to June

Apparently #TuesdayTales was not my forte during this period as I only have one flash from those months that I completed. LOL

5/1/12

Title: Empty Beds

The chair sat empty, a thin layer of dust beginning to collect on the arms. She stared at it, wishing as she always did that he would reappear.

The aneurism was so sudden. One day he was here, one day he wasn’t. No more ‘conjugal visits’ as she and Frank used to call their relations. It was an inside joke, one that had started when they married, that Frank was now in prison for the rest of his life ... hence the conjugal visits.

Prison would be better than reality; at least she knew she’d see him again.

#MenageMonday Flashes from March to June

Here's the collection of entries I did for #MenageMonday from March to June of this year. Hopefully, I will do a better job of staying caught up. :)

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3/5/12

Title: Trouble Abroad

I double checked my location as I pulled into the driveway of a rundown, seemingly vacant motel. Nevertheless, the address was correct and I continued into the parking lot.

“Rhys, I need help,” Jay had said when he called me the other night.

“Sounds serious,” I commented.

I didn’t waste any time before I headed out. Jay wouldn’t say if he needed money or help of the illegal variety. Knowing Jay, it was probably a little bit of both. Before I left, I grabbed my Springfield Armory 9mm pistol.

I pulled up to the unit Jay had indicated. The lights were off and I couldn’t hear a tv or anyone talking. I chambered my gun and walked carefully to the door, keeping the barrel low but ready.

I pushed the door open with the barrel of my gun and looked around quickly. The room was empty, but appeared to be tossed. Just as I walked completely in the room, the door shut suddenly behind me and cold metal was shoved against my temple.

“You can’t ever go home again, Rhys,” Jay said, his voice flat and void of any feeling.

I opened my mouth to respond then everything went dark.

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3/19/12

Title: Music of Passion

“Check this out, Johns.”

“You found something, Daughtery?”

“I think so. The manufacturer stamp on these strings matches the ones we found.”

Johns examines the small package of guitar strings, one of several at this particular vendor’s booth.

“Can I help you gentleman find anything?” the man who ran the booth asked, as he wrung his hands.

Johns holds up the string pack. “Where else can these strings be found?”

“Um, only at my shop. I make them myself. I usually custom make them for the particular guitar player but I’ve started making a more generic line.”

Johns and Daughtery exchange a look.

“Where were you the night before last?” Daughtery asked.

“I was at home, why?”

“We found a broken g-string, made by you at a crime scene. A man was garroted with the string before it broke.”

The vendor’s fale paled and he stumbled back before sitting down in a chair he had to the side of his stand.  

“And you think I did it?”

“We aren’t sure. But we’d like you to come down to the station and answer a few questions, just a formality, of course.”

The man sighed and wiped his hands over his face.

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4/9/12

Title: Uprising

Billowing black smoke cut across the azure sky. The acrid smell of burning infected everything: clothes, hair, and skin.  The smoke was just another sign of what had happened in the last day, structures and property that suffered too much damage, burnt to the ground. It was better to be destroyed than to be used by the creatures.

Driving down the road, you could almost pretend that the last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened. You could almost imagine that this was just any ordinary road trip, and not a flight for survival. You could pretend just as long as you kept your eyes closed, your nose pinched, and your ears covered.

Most people were running, or driving, but fleeing the devastation for the hills. Surely in the country it wasn’t like this. Surely those creatures hadn’t made it that far yet. There were far too many things within the city to keep the creatures attention, at least we hoped. We pretended that we’d be safe at our destination, until the military was able to force the creatures to retreat. It was that little lie that would sustain us … hopefully before we starved or became like the creatures.

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4/16/12

Title: Checking In

(#WIP500)

After spending several days in the city private archives, Alana and David turned their search to the Wardville Public Library.  As they approached, there seemed to be a lot of people there for a weekday evening. Alana passed through a large crowd of people and discovered the reason. There was a big "Open House" banner draped across the top of the main entrance.

"Ah, I had forgotten about the renovations," David murmured as he guided her through another group of people. "They just finished a 5.5 million dollar renovation bringing the library out of the stone age and into the 21st century."

Alana chuckled and continued her way to the main entrance. Just as her hands touched the steel and glass door, she was hit by another blast of voices and a flash of a vision. She shook her head to clear it and grasped her pendant tightly.

"Anywhere but here," she whispered, her voice tight with fear.

David wrapped his arm around her and looked around for anything suspicious. "Come on, maybe it will be better inside. They can't be everywhere, can they?"

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5/7/12

Title: The Storm of the Century

(#WIP500)

The evening wind swirled around Alana’s brown hair as she stared at the fire. David had brought her to the beachfront campfire, hoping the hypnotic fluidity of the flames would help relax her. They both knew that the final confrontation with the Destroyers was coming to a head. It seemed each day that more and more evil seemed to surround them, like a building storm.

“I just need more time,” Alana said, as she threw bit of driftwood into the fire, turning part of the flames bluish-green.

“Unfortunately, time is not something we have,” he replied, stroking her back softly.

“I know. I just wish things were different. I didn’t ask for this.”

“Neither did I, but it is what we are and we can’t not do something.”

Alana nodded and poked the fire. “I don’t have much of a choice. The Destroyers would come for me, no matter what. If I want to live, I have to defeat them."

“Not just for you to live, but for all of us. No pressure or anything,” he added, drolly.

Alana nudged him with her shoulder. “Nope, no pressure.” She laced her fingers with his. “But, I have you to help me.”

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5/14/12

Title: Riding for Love

True love is like a roller-coaster. It’s crazy, exciting, and scary all at once. Dating, just like waiting in line for the ride, is sometimes boring, sometimes interesting. You meet people along the way; maybe make a few friends, but no lifelong connections. Nothing, until you actually get on the ride.

But, before you get on, you have to let go. You have to allow yourself to fall; otherwise you just hold yourself back from real happiness.

This is your time. No more bad break-ups, unanswered phone calls, or star-crossed lovers for you.

You are in the car, strapped in, and ready to shoot for the stars. The excitement builds as the coaster goes up the first hill, that initial honeymoon period of the relationship. Your heart pounds, your palms sweat, all in gleeful anticipation.

Once you crest that first hill, and you fall, screaming your head off in sheer joy, you are in the moment. You go up and down and turn and bank, through highs and lows, just like any relationship.

What matters, is when you step off that ride that you are together. As you step away, while the initial excitement is over, the happiness never ends.

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5/21/12

No Title

The village was in awe as they watched Sol slowly disappear behind Lun. No one spoke. Not a child cried. This was a sacred moment for all, except one.

She cowered in her cell, shaking as she watched the countdown to her life. She believed in the sacredness of the disappearance of Sol, and the necessity of the rebirth of her people, but she didn’t want it to be her. She had plans for herself, a life she wanted to lead.

However, the lottery had other plans for her. Being randomly picked didn’t make the shock any better. Everyone congratulated her family for the high honor. She put on a brave face, but inside she was terrified.

The village’s histories said she would be reborn with the city, that the essence of her body and blood would feed the crops and nuture the soil. Her sacrifice would appease Lun and bring Sol back.

She closed her eyes as she tried to keep the tears at bay when she heard the priests walk down the corridor to her. This was it. She would find out if the legends were true.

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6/4/12

Title: Moonlight Serenade

“Doing this at night only works if there isn’t a full moon,” Hank cracked, as he waiting for some cloud cover to strike.

“Bite me, Hank. How was I supposed to know tonight was going to be a full moon?”

“Oh, I don’t know, check the calendar or the weather report beforehand?”

George ignored him and wiped his forehead. “Jesus Christ, it’s hot out here. Why the hell is it this hot at night?”

“It’s a dry heat, desert and all.” Hank shook his head and wondered why he agreed to do this one last job with George. He wasn’t known for his planning ability.

“Why are you such an asshole, Hank?”

“Why are you such an idiot, George?”

“Fuck you, Hank. I don’t need your shit,” George retorted as he stood up out from under the cover of the rocks, the moonlight reflecting across his face.

“George, get back here before they see you!” Hank hissed.

A gunshot rang out and George’s body crumbled to the ground.

“I guess you did need my shit,” Hank replied to his dead friend’s body. He quickly grabbed George’s handgun and his own and took off before their target came looking for him.

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Thanks for reading!

Long Time No See

So my blog has been neglected a lot of late. I didn't have updates on my novel or any flashes to post. I hadn't been doing flash fiction as much due to how crazy things were at work, and then once things slowed down, I needed to get back into the groove. This week has been a good week so far for flash. Looks like my mojo has returned!

Also some news:
I am hosting a picture prompt blog that is in the process of going live. The website is up but we don't have all the bios up for the authors. What we are doing is showcasing a different author each day and their writing based on two photo prompts.

The author for the day has the option of writing a prompt based on one of the pictures or both. The theme, length, content, whatever is completely up to the creativity and inspiration of the author, provided that they are able to tie in one or both of the photos. It is a fun writing exercise that we are all looking forward to starting. Keep an eye out for my tweets about the blog when we go live, or go to the blog directly and follow so you don't miss a single day.

#DailyPicspiration  DailyPicspiration

Some authors are published, some are just starting out. What we all share is a love of writing and a desire to grow together as writers. I hope you will come along for the journey.

To wrap things up, here are some of my flash fiction entries for the month of June. I will do another post with the ones from March to June separately.

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#ThursdayThreads

Title: Till Death Do Us Part

The blood pool beneath his body was small compared to the size of the man. Morgan shook her head, not surprised that the cold, miserly man was just as cheap in death as he was in real life.

“That didn’t take long.”

Morgan scoffed. “Damn bastard never made me happy when he was alive, and now he can’t even give me something in his death.”

“Well, at least you are free of him now, right?”

“I suppose, Lane. Still disappointing, though. I was expecting so much more out of this.”

“Life is full of disappointments, sugar.” Lane shrugged his shoulders and started rolling up the plastic that covered Morgan’s deceased husband.

“Yep, and I was married to the biggest one of all.”  Morgan washed her hands and finally cracked a smile. “But, now I’m free of that horrible mistake of a man.”

Lane set down the body and wrapped his arms around Morgan’s waist. “And off to better things with me.”

For now, she thought.

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#55WordChallenge (Won this one! WOOT!)

Title: Bloody Reunion

He thought the heat from my skin was passion. He thought the tension in my body was from pleasure. He thought he knew me.

He didn’t.

He also didn’t know I saw him with my sister. He’d come tonight, but for the last time. I’d get my revenge with his blood flowing across my hands. 

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#TuesdayTales (Honorable Mention!)

Title: Vodka for Dummies

As I cracked my eyelids open, my eyes were blinded by the light of a thousand suns.  I groaned, rolling over and squeezing my eyes shut.

“Rise and shine.”

I grumbled and burrowed farther into the bed.

Rhys’ voice rumbled with laughter. “You can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Yes, I can. I’m royalty, damn it. Should be good for something,” I croaked into my pillow.

Rhys continued to chuckle as he poured a glass of water from the stand by our bed. “No matter how blue your blood may be, too much alcohol affects you just like everyone else.”

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#MotivationMonday

Title: The Burning Words

The trouble started when they threw the book in the fire. The group of boys had taunted and dared one another to do the deed until finally one got up enough nerve. With a look of determination on his face, Tommy Thompson snatched the book from the bookbag that sat in the middle of them.

Without a pause, he chucked the old, hardbound book into the hungry flames. The edges began to burn even before the book landed at the bottom of the firepit. The flames eagerly licked the sides of the book, the stiff leather of the cover cracking and melting.

Tommy swore he thought he heard something as soon as the book began to burn, but he shrugged it off. The stories about the book were just that, stories. It wasn’t possible for the book to be haunted or to be the only physical entity that held back the Maligni.

“Did you hear that?” one of the younger boys asked, his eyes darting back and forth.

“Hear what, Gerald? Your knees knocking together?” Chris taunted. He was the bully of the group, always willing to ridicule anyone and everyone.

Gerald’s lip trembled as the other boys laughed. Tommy shook his head and huffed with disgust. He was tired of Chris’ taunts.

“Leave him alone, Chris,” Tommy said firmly. “It was probably just the wind.” Tommy hoped it was just the wind.

The bully turned to the taller boy. “You scared too, Tommy? I didn’t figure you for a chicken.”

Tommy chuckled but it was without humor. “Yet, I didn’t see you throwing the book in the fire, did I? That was me. So shut up.”

“Why don’t you make me, tough guy?” Chris continued to taunt. He picked up a large stick as he walked to the edge of the fire. As he continued to speak, he prodded the burning book with the dead wood. “Nothing but a stupid book anyway.”

As soon as he poked the book, a screeching wail surrounded them. The fire leapt up the length of the wood and wrapped around Chris’s body. Chris began screaming but couldn’t seem to let go of the stick.

The rest of the boy stood in shock, frozen in fear. The fire enveloped their friend, but didn’t seem to be burning him.

“I HAVE BEEN RELEASED!” a voice boomed, coming from Chris but much deeper and older than what the teenaged boy’s voice sounded like.

Gerald wet himself as the rest of the boys ran in every direction, whatever it took to get away from the hell they unleashed.

Tommy knew it was a bad idea to mess with the supernatural, even if it was supposed to only be a story. Chris was evidence that it was no story at all. Tommy ran until he reached a church. He threw the doors open and hid under a pew until he thought it was safe.

Too bad for him, no one was safe now.

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#MenageMonday

Title: Blood Rites

Foreboding filled Tony as he approached the turn off to the Agua Fria National Monument area  Nothing good ever came out of being in such a desolate area. Sure there was some shrubbery and animal life, but people didn't live here for a reason. They tended to die out here.

Marco said it was a family affair. Of which, Tony could only imagine this was Marco's way of thinking out of the box for a sit down. Tony's Capo liked to be different. He still held to the rules of the family, but in his own unique way.

Way out in the middle of no where Arizona, no one would hear anything ... and any bodies left laying around would be picked over and desiccated before anyone was reported missing. Although, any smart person wouldn't bother doing a missing person's report. They would've known it was a fight to the death.

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Thanks for reading - and I look forward to seeing you at the new blog when we go live. :)

Happy Memorial Day!

Americans far and wide celebrate Memorial Day today, remembering those whose sacrifice allow us the freedoms we enjoy every moment of our lives. Regardless of who is President, our country is protected by the brave men and women who put our safety and security above their own. Today, no prompt will be posted in memory of those who allowed us to write and create without fear.

Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, VA

Thank you.

#SixSentenceSunday - Week 7

Today is also another #SixSentenceSunday which means another snippet of my WIP, Guardians. Check out the website for more information and to check out hundreds of other authors who participate in #SixSentenceSunday.

Alana was more interested what was in the back corner shelves where people didn’t often look, where the mystic, arcane, and darker subjects gathered.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t imagine her sweet old grandmother with her nose buried in those types of books. Perhaps there was more to Evelyn than Alana ever realized. The idea shook Alana more than she cared to admit. Evelyn was the one person in her family she thought she knew the most. If there was a part of Evelyn that Alana didn’t know, that opened so many doors to what else Alana didn’t know about her, and by extension, Robert.

Thanks for reading! What will your six sentences say?

#SixSentenceSunday - Week 6

Happy Mother's Day!

Today is also another #SixSentenceSunday which means another snippet of my WIP, Guardians. Check out the website for more information and to check out hundreds of other authors who participate in #SixSentenceSunday.

Alana wasn’t sure exactly what the purpose was in boxing these particular books up unless Evelyn decided she didn’t want them before she died. When Alana gave a cursory glance over the titles, they were definitely not the same genre of books that graced the shelves in the living room. These were more esoteric and supernatural in nature, dealing with subjects like the power of good and evil inherent in people, the soul, and the afterlife among others.

These were books that Alana never remembered Evelyn ever talking about or reading. She wasn’t around much after college so perhaps it was a subject her grandmother picked up during that time, but it still seemed so strange. Deciding to hold onto those books for awhile until she could go through them more thoroughly, she pushed them to the side. 

Thanks for reading!  What will your six sentences say?