#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!

Flash Fiction Weeks of February 20th to March 2nd

The last several weeks were crazy week of work for me. The owner of my company was on vacation so I was in charge (scary thought) and was on-call the entire week in February. Being on-call really eats into my writing time when it gets busy. Ah well, every week isn't like that.

What sucks is when you go a few days without writing, you tend to lose your 'mojo' and lose your thoughts. When I pulled my manuscript up yesterday, I had to re-read several pages of what I had already written just to get back into the scene. It worked, and I think the mojo has returned, however sporadically.

I've tried to get back in with the flash fiction but my participation has been spotty. Some of the prompts just didn't speak to me. As before, I try to keep them in the spirit of my WIP if possible.

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#MenageMonday (made Honorable Mention! Woo!)

Title: One Life to Give

The Old Mother stands proudly, naked and still in the crisp spring air. Her coverings have long been removed, allowing her flesh to dry and chap through the harsh winter. Breathing is difficult for her this Spring, but she tries all the same to last as long as she can.

Regardless of the pain she is in, she relishes the feeling of growth along her skin. Gentle caresses of new life slowly worked their way up her ancient body, curling and exploring with delicate shoots.

“It’s almost time,” she thinks to herself, knowing that this will be the last season for her.

She sighs as small insect life crawls up the tender shoots, investigating the cracks and crevasses of her time ravaged frame. Slowly they work their way inside, taking from the Old Mother the only nourishment she has to give.

With her last, gasping breath, the Old Mother offers herself to the young ones all around her, knowing that they will live on because of her, with her, from her.

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#5MinuteFiction

--I was a little disappointed by this, I got interrupted while I was writing so I wasn't able to complete the thought I was going with for this. Ah well, another day.

Alana followed the clues she found in the archives which led her to her Grandmother’s garden behind the house. However, it didn’t end there. The clues told her to seek out the water of the Creator. The only water Alana knew of was a small pond that was beyond the edge of what she thought was the property line.

Carefully, she stepped through the overgrown brush and brambles until she heard the quiet lapping of the small pond she only just recently became aware of being there. Her memories of being here as a small child were faint, but none contained anything about a pond, just the garden with her Grandmother.

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#5MinuteFiction

Title: Breath of Strength

As Alana ran towards the town hall, the wind ripped around her.  Leaves and various small bits of trash blew about, caught up in the storm. It was so strange. The weather forecast said it was going to be calm with clear skies. This was clearly not that.

However, when she thought about it, it felt like the storm was following her. In glimpses through the debris filled wind, there were trees with limbs unbowed from the gale and flags hanging limply from their poles.

It made sense. The Destroyers were after her any way they could. They could not physically stop her but they could create other things to stop her.

Alana was distracted by a boom off to her right and tripped over a branch that was on the ground. She landed roughly, skinning her hands and knees. Her skin smarted as dirt rubbed into the abrasions. With a grimace, she rolled over on her back and tried to get up.

Suddenly, the wind became oppressive. It tightened and tangled, like a vise, holding her down. Breathing became difficult and she saw stars in front of her eyes.  She closed her eyes, took as deep of a breath as she could, and grasped her pendant, hoping the power inside of it would give her the strength to continue.

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#FridayPictureShow

“Give me the pendant,” Alana demanded. The man behind her tightened his grip on her arms.

The leader of the Destroys laughed, cold and merciless, as he dangled it in front of her face. “No.”

Alana snarled and struggled to free herself from the man restraining her.

The leader laughed again and started to turn away when David took advantage of the distraction and lunged forward to try to grab the pendant.

Before Alana could blink, a shot rang out and David hit the floor. Smoke curled from the barrel of a gun held by one of the other henchmen.

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That's all folks. Hopefully this week will be better!

Flash Fiction Week of January 30th

Ah, month end craziness is over so I did pretty good on doing all of the contests this week.

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#MenageMonday - I was the judge this week so I was not eligible for the contest

(#WIP500)

Title: The Ways of the World

The wind was cold as it came across the harbor. Alana pulled her jacket tighter around her body as she walked. After she found the letters from her grandmother, she needed to get out of Wardville to get some clarity. The world as she knew it had just turned on its axis and nothing would ever be the same. David tried to talk to her, but she wasn’t ready. Knowing that he had a part in this too was even the more mind-boggling.

Alana was a Creator, from a family of Creators. She was the last of a long and ancient line of women who had the power to create. Sure other women could have babies, but Alana’s family was the first. It was their existence that allowed others to have progeny.

As she walked, she looked up at a sculpture of a family, with the father looking up to the heavens with his hand raised. The pose struck her and she approached the large installation to get a better look. When she got close enough, she was able to read the inscription at the bottom: The Protector Begs the Heavens.

Startled, she looked closer at the figures and saw a spiral necklace hanging from the woman’s neck.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her knees weakening as her hand reached up to touch her own spiral pendant. Alana dropped to her knees in front of the statue in shock, not noticing the cold cement.

David was her Protector. Did this mean that he was also supposed to be the father of her children? Sure, he and his father before him and his father before him were entrusted with protecting the Creators, but Alana had no idea it meant this too. She cared about David, but did she care about him that much?

Was this statue a symbol of the way it was supposed to be? If this was the case, why wasn’t her father a Protector as well?

Alana finally rose to her feet a bit unsteadily. Her grandmother’s letters answered many questions, but brought many more new questions to light. The mysterious ways of the world were even more occluded than before.

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#MotivationalMonday

(#WIP500)

Title: Letters of Love

I’ll never forget that smile, or the way you laugh, Alana’s grandmother, Evelyn, said in one of the many letters she had written to Alana before she died. Alana continued to read as her eyes began to water. With a shaking hand, she wiped away the tears before they fell, and read on.

Alana discovered the letters in a box one day when she was going through her grandmother’s things in Evelyn’s old roll-top desk. It was just a seemingly ordinary cardboard box except it had Alana’s name written on it in her grandmother’s familiar looping script. Curious, she opened the box and was overwhelmed with what she found.

There were so many letters, spanning nearly twenty-five years. It looked like Evelyn wrote several a year, sometimes more depending on what happened. It looked like she started writing them the year Alana’s parents died and Evelyn began raising her, ending just days before Evelyn passed away.

A good portion of the letters were stories about Alana’s childhood, anecdotes that Evelyn wanted to remember and preserve. Alana found herself laughing then crying as she read. Her grandmother had a keen sense of humor that came out very clearly in her written thoughts.

Some of the letters were about Alana’s mother and father, two people that Alana knew very little about. When she realized the letter was about them, she dropped everything else and poured through her grandmother’s words.

Evelyn told her about Cecilia growing up, sometimes pausing in her story to make a commentary on how alike Alana and Cecilia were at that age. Alana smiled, thinking on how precocious her mother must’ve been.

She read on, going through several years’ worth of letters before she realized how late it had gotten. Alana would have continued reading, except a familiar voice called from the first floor.

“I’m up here, David,” she called out, her voice catching at the end before she could stop it.

His heavy footsteps made quick work of the stairs and he was in her bedroom before she had gotten much farther down the page she was reading. He burst in and rushed over to her side.

“Alana, are you okay? It sounded like you were upset.” He gently touched the side of her face, his expression wavering from concern to confusion.

She smiled as fresh tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “I’m fine. I found some letters from my grandmother, telling me about me and my parents.”

David smiled and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the last bits of her tears.

“They must be very special letters.”

“They are,” she agreed.

“Are you still up for dinner?”

Her smile brightened as she carefully packed the letters back up. “Yes, please.” The not-so-quiet growl of her stomach agreed, making them both laugh.

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#5MinuteFiction I WON! Wooooooooooooo!

Title: Freedom Isn’t Free

A missile has no conscience, no concept of right or wrong. It merely exists in its singular purpose. Once the purpose is fulfilled, it has no further use or added benefit.

Reece sat quietly as he waited, knowing his mission was that of the missile. There was no further action required of him after his task was done. If he survived, there wouldn’t be anything he would want or able to do.

The life of a suicide bomber was short, but had such purpose. Reece believed strongly in his cause, the freedom of his people from the Aanti overlords who had imprisoned them so many years ago. Sure, his people lived in relative peace, but they were not free. They couldn’t do anything without Aanti approval, and if they did something without, were heavily punished.

Reece carefully crawled into position in the subterranean tunnels beneath the Aanti’s command center, being as quietly as he could so he wouldn’t trip the motion sensors.

With a final breath and a prayer, he pressed the trigger.

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#TuesdayTales

Title: Let’s Give ‘Em Something to Talk About

The red light illuminated the couple as they danced. The audience watched breathlessly as the man and woman moved seamlessly within their tango. While they both enjoyed the spotlight, this performance was more than just a showcase of their abilities.

They weren’t just dance partners but a couple, and after this performance, they were going to announce their relationship to the world. Every searing glance, every sultry step, and every sexy sway would analyzed in detail, revealing what had been hidden. They were prepared for the brouhaha that would come, as long as they were together, and dancing.

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#HumpDayChallenge I was an Honorable Mention! :)

Title: Pass the Salt

In an unprecedented decision, the city administration of Cape Coral decided to gift the town with copious amounts of road salt, something entirely unnecessary for the Florida town and detrimental to the pavement.

The populace crowed over the blunder, demanding that the mayor be entombed in the salt for the duration of his term. He protested, of course, saying that all the salt would dry out his delicate complexion and would ruin his chances of winning the next Cape Coral Queen Pageant.
The riot that followed would go down in the record books as the saltiest food fight ever.

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#ThursdayThreads - I also got an honorable mention here! WOo!

(#WIP500)

Title: The Truth of the Matter

Alana sat back in the chair, stunned over the information she had unearthed. David was still pouring over his stack of letters and documents and hadn’t noticed she had stopped.

The initial stack of letters she found from her grandmother were relatively harmless. They were just innocent stories about Alana’s and Cecilia’s childhoods, things that were the same about mother and daughter, and just things that Evelyn thought were memorable.

These stack of letters she had in her hand were of a much different variety. They also disclosed history about Alana’s family, but a darker more mysterious history. It also revealed that her parents death was not a mere accident.

“David, take a look at this,” Alana whispered, her hands shaking as she handed the page she was reading to him.

He took the offered papers but looked at her intently “Jeez, Ali, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Alana chuckled with a humorless laugh. “Perhaps not a ghost, but you’ll understand once you read it.”

As David read, his jaw fell open in shock. He looked at her incredulously. “Alana, do you know what this means?”

She nodded. “Yep. And those same people are after me.”

David frowned, his face becoming fierce. “No doubt it’s a murder in the case of your parents, but I’ll be damned if I let them do the same to you.”

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#FridayPictureShow

Title: Passionate Storm

Solitude was his preferred companion, but Collin enjoyed the additional presence of the storm all around him. The waves crashed against the old lighthouse walls like a scorned woman raging, a furious tempest of wind and rain.

He stepped outside of the main door to embrace the gale, the water lapping around his arms and legs, sucking at his limbs in an attempt to join him into the brink.

Collin pulled away before he was entranced completely, and slipped inside his welcoming column. The storm shrieked in anger at his disappearance, pounding against the old lighthouse with vigor and ire.

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Onward.....

Flash Fiction Week of January 23rd

Finding time to do the flashes this week was a bit difficult with how busy I was with work but here they are! Again, trying to keep as many of the drabbles in the spirit of my #WIP500.

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#MenageMonday

Title: Nowhere Safe

(#WIP500)

“Ugh, going through the archives was such a pain in the ass,” Alana muttered.

“It was, but we found out quite a bit,” David said as he sat down with a couple of drafts in his hand.

Alana gratefully took hers and enjoyed a long pull from the crisp Irish beer. “We did, that’s for sure.”

She looked around at the window and door frames nervously. “I don’t see the shepherd’s crooks anywhere.”

“This place wasn’t built by my family so it doesn’t have the mark.”

Her face drained of color. She only felt safe in places with the Ward family mark, and felt incredibly exposed without it.

“It’ll be okay, Al,” he reassured.

She knew better.

It wasn’t until after the waitress brought their food that things started happening. The whispers were back and they were angry. Black shrouds seem to ooze from the corners of the room. She shrank back in fear while the rest of the patrons appeared to be unaffected.

“Alana?” David asked. “Are you okay?”

One whispered voice cut through them all. It was laced with evil and coldness. “Your mother was just like you. We will destroy you and everything you represent.”

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#MotivationalMonday

Title: Deadliest Dreams

(#WIP500)

People call them dragons. Alana called them harbingers of death. Anytime there was something bad happening in her life, she saw a dragon. Sometimes it was just a picture, a caricature, or cartoon of one, or one of those gecko-like ones that some people kept as pets, but it was always something.

Growing up, her friends didn’t understand why the cartoon “Puff the Magic Dragon” made her cry or why she’d never watch Shrek. They saw innocent, cartoonish dragons. Alana saw death and destruction and evil.

Dragons never hurt Alana per se, they just seemed to always be around when something bad would happen. When she broke her leg in elementary school after falling from the monkey bars, she had dragons on her cast –at least until she took a Sharpie to them. When her dog died when she was in junior high school, Barney was on the television. When her first boyfriend broke up with her in high school at a football game, the other team’s mascot was a dragon.

Those things were relatively innocent but nevertheless made an impression on her young mind.
It continued much the same as she grew into adulthood. When her grandfather, Robert, died while she was in college, she had a horrible nightmare. Her grandfather was fighting a huge fire-breathing dragon. For a time, it looked like he was going to win, but at the end of the dream, the dragon defeated Robert, tearing him to shreds. Alana woke immediately afterwards, chilled the bone and somehow knowing that her dream wasn’t just a dream, that her grandfather really had died.

The tear-filled call by her grandmother later that morning confirmed that.

It wasn’t for several years before Alana saw another dragon. She thought she was finally growing out of it. One spring night, she was dreaming about her grandmother. They were in Evelyn’s garden, tending her flowers and ivy, when the house behind them was incinerated by a huge fireball. When the smoke cleared, a fierce dragon stood, trails of fire dripping from its nostrils. Shrouds of darkness swirled around the dragon like an evil halo.

Evelyn cried out and shoved Alana aside as the dragon let out a gust of fire at them. The older woman was immediately engulfed in the deadly flames.

Alana woke, screaming with tears running down her face. Her boyfriend tried his best to calm her down but she was inconsolable. It had happened again. Alana wasn’t sure if she’d ever be the same again.

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#5MinuteFiction

Title: Bloody Fields

(#WIP500)

Alana was puzzled. The last thing she remembered was laying down to sleep but now she found herself walking through Wardville. She was by herself, which was strange. Usually David was with her when she was in town.

The sky was an odd opal hue, almost like there were Northern Lights but during the day. Everything was completely silent. Trees didn’t rustle, although she saw leaves wave through the wind. Birds didn’t chirp, although she saw their beaks open. There also weren’t any cars on the street, or any other people for that matter.

She was completely alone.

Alana turned the corner towards the Town Hall and was immediately surrounded by a field of lilies. Normally such a pleasant flower, Alana was struck with how sinister they looked. The petals were blood red and looked wet to the touch. As she approached one, she gingerly reached a finger out.

The petal of the lily felt vevelty soft, as was normal. As she pulled her finger away, she noticed the tip was bloody. Quickly, she wiped off on her pants. There wasn’t a cut on her finger or anything. Nervously, she looked back at the lily. It remained as it did before.

She touched it a second time, leaving her finger there for a moment. Fluid collected on the tip of the petal until it finally dropped to the ground. It was blood. The lilies were bleeding.

Alana woke with a start in her bed. She sat up and looked around and everything appeared to be normal. With a sigh, she reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. She screamed when she saw her hand covered with blood.

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#FridayPictureShow

Title: The Path of Enlightenment

(Won an honorable mention)

“Which journey do you want to take?” the kindly old man asked.

Paulette stood in front of the bookshelf, tilting her neck from side to side as she thought. These were all her best loved books.

“You need to choose,” he prompted.

“I can’t decide. They’re all wonderful.”

“You have to pick the best option for you.”

“But why? Why can’t I have all of them?”

“It’s not possible.”

Paulette woke up with a start from where she had fallen asleep at her desk. It was covered with college applications from schools all across the country.

“I just can’t decide.”

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Till next week!

Flash Fiction Week of January 16th

As I continue with #WIP500 hosted by the delightful Cara Michaels, I try to keep my flash fiction drabbles within my story. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Either way, I'm still writing. :)

#MotivationMonday

Title: Finality

(WIP#500)

We just wanted to be free, Alana thought as she and David stepped carefully through the wreckage of the town hall. There were burned bricks and broken bits of drywall all over the place. Shards of glass littered the floor from windows that had blown out. It looked like a bomb had gone off.

In some ways, it probably had.

Her life had been so simple before she moved back to Maine, and she couldn’t wait until it could be again. All they had to do was free themselves and free the world from the threat brought on by the Destroyers.. Now, everything was different. She was different.

She sighed as she walked gingerly through the somewhat clear path to the basement. There was no other place the Destroyers would have gone. The bell tower was in shambles and that was the only room left that her and David hadn’t investigated.

Clutching the spiral pendants at her neck, she hoped for strength from her grandmother and all the women before her, and opened the steel door that led to the beginning of the end.

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#MenageMonday

(no title)

“Blessed are the meek,” the angel said.

“Really? Cause being meek got me into this position in the first place. If I had spoken up for myself, maybe I’d still be alive,” the ghost argued.

“But you will inherit the earth.”

“Ha, didn’t I already? I’m IN the earth! I definitely think I’ve already inherited it.”

The angel showed no sign of annoyance, merely looked on with that same peaceful gaze. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”

“Hello! I’m dead! What could I possibly be hungry for now?” The ghost swirled around the angel in agitation.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy,” the angel continued reciting Matthew.

“What mercy was I shown? I was murdered!”

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”

The ghost scoffed. “The only time I saw God was when I had an orgasm. Tell me, O Holy Angel, have you ever had an orgasm? I doubt it.”

The angel blushed.

"Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

“If this is heaven, I want a redo.”

The angel sighed.

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#5MinuteFiction

Title: Revelations

(#WIP500)

“Grab me a beer, will you?” David asked as he and Alana poured over the paperwork they copied from the town archives.

As Alana sat down next to him, she twisted the cap off of his beer and one she got for herself. They had been sitting at the table going over stacks of papers for several hours and Alana’s eyes were beginning to cross.

There was so much history in the town, which was remarkable for how small it was. David’s family was involved in just about every aspect of the town’s growth from a simple farm to what it was now. It wouldn’t be classified as a city but they had more than one stoplight.

“Find anything yet?” she asked, as she rubbed her forehead.

The difficult thing was they weren’t sure exactly what they were looking for, but hoped they would recognize it when they saw it, something that dealt with a battle between one of David’s ancestors and some of the same evil forces that were after Alana now.

Their beers were nearly empty when David jumped out of his chair. “Alana, I think I found it! Look!”

“What is it?” she asked, quickly leaning over what he had been reading.

“Here, look at this section here.” He pointed to an obscure paragraph that was nearly illegible due to fading and water-damage.

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#TuesdayTales

Title: Game Show

“Pat, I’d like to buy a vowel. The letter ‘u,’ please.”

“All right, let’s see what you got!” The overly enthusiastic announcer turned toward the game board, his papery skin nearly transparent from one too many face-lifts.

Three letter boxes lit up and rotated forward.

“Pat, I’d like to solve the puzzle. The word is ‘Pulchritudinous.'"

An applause track burst harshly from the speakers overhead as the announcer began clapping, his thin arms flapping like bare tree branches. “You are correct! For the bonus, use the word in a sentence!”

“Botox can make someone pulchritudinous but not attractive.”

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#ThursdayThreads

Title: Nerves

(#WIP500)

“Alana, what you possibly worried about? They will love you,” David said as he stood behind her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She fidgeted in front of the mirror, adjusting the same strands of hair over and over again.

“They knew my parents and my grandparents. What if I don’t live up to what they expect?”

“Alana, I know my parents. I’m telling you, you have nothing to worry about.”

She sighed, straightened her shirt, and turned to face David. “I hope you’re right.”

He pulled her face towards him and kissed her forehead. “I am. You look great, and yeah, you’re worth a million bucks, and you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She blushed and looked away briefly. “How do you know just what to say?”

“It’s a gift,” he replied with a smirk. “My father taught me everything I know.”

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#FridayPictureShow

Title: Hidden Clues

He laid the keys out, one by one, in specific order, in precise placement. He disregarded the chaos around him as he worked. He did not see the shambles of the room, or the destruction brought on by his many rages.

Each key stood for something. They were clues, clues that only he knew the answers to. He supposed that someone smart enough could figure it out, if they really tried.

With a pair of tweezers that he had bathed in bleach earlier, he carefully placed the final two keys and a slim, black button on the plate and waited.

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Till next week ...

Flash Fiction Week of January 9th

Last week was a good week for me with the flash contests. Always nice to get recognition. My goal this week was to write all of my flash contests in the universe of my WIP, with the hopes I can use some of the material in the actual story. If not usable, it will still keep my mind in those characters.


#MenageMonday


Title: Off-Roading in Style
(#WIP500)


“David, this vehicle is not appropriate for off-roading,” Alana said as she looked over the three-wheeler.


“What do you mean? The guy at the rental place said this was perfect for looking at the terminal garbage glacial stuff up in the hills.”


“They’re called terminal moraines, David.”


“Yeah, glacial garbage.”


Alana rolled her eyes and examined the vehicle again. She really didn’t see how this was practical, but she’d take a chance on it. With a deep breath, she grabbed a helmet and tossed David the other one.


“Time to saddle up, big boy.”


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#MotivationMonday


Title: Guardians
(This is also the cliffnotes version of my WIP if you are curious)


An ancient legend tells of a sword and stone, but this was something different. It was still a battle of good versus evil, except with a shepherd’s crook in stead of a sword and a womb for the stone.


In a small town in Maine, a woman returned after being gone since she was a small child. She had no idea of the evil that was laying in wait for her. A small group of men, overtaken by a timeless evil, had killed her parents and now were after her.


She was the ultimate Creator. She was the last daughter from the Original. She was the symbol of woman, of she who brought life into the world. The men were Destroyers. They reigned with delight in chaos and death.


What the Destroyers failed to realize was that without life there was no death, and vice versa. Life needed death and death needed life, as long as there was always more life to sustain the next cycle. If the destroyers ever truly won the war for good, it would be the end for everyone and everything. The Creators knew that and strived to always be one step ahead.
Until they almost weren’t.


When the Destroyers killed the last daughter’s parents, they thought they had gotten an edge. What they didn’t realize is that there were protectors out there.
Hope was in sight.


A man stood up for the last daughter and kept her safe from the evil that tried to get to her, to make her crazy, to kill her. He was a guardian. With an innocent shepherd’s crook, his symbol of his protection and strength, he stayed the wave of evil until the last daughter was strong enough.


In an epic battle, she released the men from the evil that held them. The spirits of the Destroyers were free, but without bodies, they could no longer harm her or anyone else. The last daughter was free to fulfill her destiny and create new life the only way she knew how.


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#TuesdayTales


Title: Purity of White


“I hate pink,” Matilda declared.


“We can paint it, Maddie,” her mom said with desperation.


“No, you can’t.”


Maddie faced her mother while sitting on her pristine white bed in her pristine white bedroom. Her eyes were wide, seemingly innocent, entirely deceptive. Her mother cringed back in fear, no longer defiant.


“Remove it,” the child demanded. “Now!”


Maddie’s mother hurried to the wall and began scrubbing with the hem of her shirt.
“Harder! I still see it!”


The woman scrubbed as hard as she could, even using her hands and wrists, until blood began smearing across the wall.


“Much better.”


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#5MinuteFiction


Title: Life in a Dream


I awoke in my bed, much the same as every day, wishing it was not. My husband’s clothes were tossed about the room, wherever he decided to throw them and his collection of coffee cups littered his bedside table. My frequent requests for him to clean up after himself always went unheeded and I was tired of picking up after him. We had three kids already. I didn’t need or want a forth.


With a grumble, I trudged through the mess into the living room. Again, it was much the same. The destruction that only kids could create was aided by my husband’s increasing laziness. The dish washer was full of clean dishes just waiting to be put away, while the sink was full of dirty ones. Shoes were all over the floor, interspaced with the occasional dog toy. Jackets were flung over the back of the couch in a pile.


I wanted to scream. Instead, I sighed with resignation and started to pick up the room. As I turned with an armload of shoes, I tripped on a dog bone. The last thing I heard was the clatter of shoes.


I woke on a wicker lounger on a beach with a tanned, buff man kneeling next to me with a plate of chocolates and a bottle of wine in his hands.


“Are you okay, Shar?” he asked, setting the plate down and running his hand down my arm.


“Yes, I think. I had such a horrible nightmare,” I replied with a moment of clarity.


“Was it the messy house again?”


I nodded as he fed me a piece of chocolate. As the treat melted on my tongue, I smiled at my little slice of perfection.


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#HumpDayChallenge


Title: Through a Child’s Eyes


The little girl watched the lemurs in the zoo enclosure, her mind awhirl at what they were thinking and doing in their little world.


Doris, the female with the fluffiest tail, was being serenaded by Boris, the tallest male. She twittered as he sang, clearly pleased with his efforts. She shook her tail at him as he scampered over to the pool and gathered water in his hands like a goblet for his intended.


To the little girl, she thought it was a celebration. The small creatures looked so happy, completely different from the generic description the zoo guide provided.


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#ThursdayThreads


Title: The End of the Cycle
(#WIP500)


David and Alana raced down the street of downtown Wardville, the skies darkening as they ran. The destroyers were gathering power quickly. If they didn’t get to the town hall in time, it would be too late. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Alana barely had time to digest everything she had found out about who and what she was and the significance of her pendant before she and David were literally running for their lives.


It had been an interesting day to say the least.


They burst through the doors of the town hall and were encased in darkness. Alana gasped in surprise, expecting there to be at least emergency lights on. David grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently.


“You ready for this?” she asked, as her eyes scanned the room, looking for the men who were the cause of all the evil happening.


He nodded with a smirk. “No place I’d rather be. I’m strong like bull,” he said, affecting a fake Russian accent.


“Sure you are, tough guy.” Alana laughed, her heart lifting before they got down to business.


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#FridayPictureShow


(This got submitted a few minutes too late to count but it was still fun to write.)


I remained, observing all. I was there in the day. I was there in the night. I was solemn when people came to mourn and I was pleased when the deceased spirits rose to their final rest.


Life continued by me, and still I remained.


Flowers grew, bloomed, and withered, only to grow again the next spring..


The trees grew taller and fuller each season, shedding their leaves like a layer of skin before growing again.


Still I remained and observed.


My presence was never noticed. I was as still as stone, observing all, for all time.


I remained.

Flash Fiction Week of January 2nd

Happy New Years!

I hope your New Years went well and that the start of the new years is off to a good foot. I didn't do any flash fiction last week, taking a bit of a break from it for the holiday. The start of January not only brought me refreshed for flash fiction but also the start of Cara Michael's #WIP500. So far, I'm just a little behind but I will catch up. First off is my Nano 11 novel that I haven't finished than time to crack open my Nano 10 that I set aside. Ah, cannot wait to finish!


#MenageMonday
(My entry won Judge's Pet!)

Title: Cheese Curls of Doom

Across the aisle from the cube farm we toiled away in, Leland was busy devouring cheese curls. It was disgusting to watch but I found I couldn’t look away. It was like being a gawker at a car accident. You don’t want to look but can’t stop yourself. Each bright orange curl disappeared into his huge maw, a pie hole of epic proportions, leaving only a faint trail of orange dust on his chin and a thin line of drool.

No wondered why he was still single and living in his mother’s basement.
Turning back to my workstation, I tried to ignore the muted crunching by Leland as I looked at the days left on my calendar. I was eagerly counting down the days until my vacation started and I could get the hell out of dodge for a few weeks. A good long vacation would fuel my soul and keep me from offing my co-workers –although I doubt Leland would be missed.

The crunching stopped, only to be followed by licking and sucking as Leland meticulously removed every bit of artificial cheese powder from his hand. My stomach churned and I quickly crossed through today’s date on the calendar.

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#TuesdayTales

Title: An Ending at the Beginning

Celebrations were happening all across the city as people prepared for the new year, full of hope and promise. As fireworks exploded overhead, a gunshot rang out. There was no distinguishing the pop from the gun from the fireworks.

The bright lights of the fireworks shone in the conglomerate of cement surrounding the Space Needle. A spreading pool of blood trickled across, extinguishing the reflections. Steam swirled in the cold night air from the rapidly cooling blood.

A steel-toed boot kicked the body that laid on the ground. “Happy New Year, you dirty old bastard. See you in hell.”

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#HumpDayChallenge

Title: While In Rome

Alan laid on the bed in his small room and stared at the cracks travelling up the walls. The service was friendly at the Hotel Cordial, but all the friendliness in the world couldn’t make up for how run-down the unremarkable place was.

His muses were interrupted by the heavy footfalls of boots down the hallway. Another downside of the hotel – lack of any modern soundproofing.

Thankfully, the area of Amsterdam the hotel was located in was relatively conservative so the only noises he heard were people walking back and forth, instead of other more ... vigorous noises.

He sighed.

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#ThursdayThreads

Title: Out of the Shire

“His name was what?” the cop asked as he took notes in his notepad.

“The old man said his name was Milo Scaggins,” the woman repeated

“Bilbo Baggins?”

She shook her head and huffed. “No, Milo Scaggins. Milo. Scaggins.”

The cop scribbled in his notepad again, paused, and read over what he wrote. He tapped his pen against the open page.

“What did he say to you?”

“He asked me if I wanted an apple.”

“An apple?”

“Yes, then he yelled ‘Opa,’ laughed, and ran off the ledge there.

The cop shook his head and flipped his notepad closed. Other officers were walking around the scene, taking pictures and measurements of some of the evidence. A coroner knelt over the body of the dead man.

“Thank you, ma’am. We will contact you if we need any further information.”

The woman nodded, relief evident on her face, and rushed off down the street.

“Hey Sauron, find out anything interesting?” one of the officers asked as he walked over with a smirk on his face.

“Not really, just another crazy old man.”

“Well, I found this on him. What do you think?” The officer held out his hand, revealing a gold ring.

Sauron’s eyes lit up and his lip curled as he plucked the ring from the other man’s hand. “I think this is an important piece of evidence, Theo. I will make sure it gets where it needs to go.”

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#FridayPictureShow

(No Title)

The ivies were such simple things, but they brought Alana’s grandmother such pleasure. Alana would often watch her grandmother run her hands up and down the vines, checking for soft spots or damage, nurturing each and every shoot. It often looked like the ivy was embracing her, with the vines curled up around her arms.

This was how Alana wanted to remember her grandmother, now that she was gone, gone to the earth that fed her beloved ivy. Anytime Alana walked into the backyard now, she couldn’t help but see the shade of her grandmother, always tending to her ivy.

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Enjoy until next week!

#FridayPictureShow - I won!!

Woo! Friday was Week 3 of the newest flash contest, #FridayPictureShow, started by my friend Jen DeSantis. I was last entry in, barely squeaking by, posting at 7:59 ET. It had been a super busy day, so it wasn't until it was almost the deadline that I was able write long enough to put words togeether in a way that makes sense.

There were a ton a great entries, so I thought my chances were slim. The prompt was great, tho (see left), and I had a ton of fun with my entry, written in the world of my Nano novel.

It worked because I won! :)  WOooO!OO!OO!O!OOOO!!  I now have a fancy badge to add to my blog. :)

Here's my entry and check out Jen's blog for the rest of the entries:

Alana climbed over the broken timbers of the old roller coaster as David followed behind her. This was where their research had led them. Before it was abandoned, long before it was an amusement park, this was where David’s ancestor had confronted the Destroyers and defeated them. His ancestor, as powerful as he was, wasn’t Alana. He wasn’t a Creator.

All these years, the destroyers had been laying in wait to make their reappearance. This was where the last and final showdown would eventually be. Soon, Alana would be ready to end what was started long before she was born.

Flash Fiction Round-up

Normally I post these separately but I'm feeling lazy. So here's a Flash Fiction Round up of all the contests I've participated in during the past week.

11/2 #HumpDayChallenge (this is also done in the style of my Nano novel.)

Title: Guardians

Alana raced to the police station as she crossed the street. She needed help; there was a strange man that continued to hover around her anytime she left her house and she didn’t know how to get rid of him.

At the main desk, a buck-toothed dispatcher watched at her with disinterest as she tried to tell her story. Other officers looked on as she spoke, with the same disinterested apathy. It was like they were all under some spell.

“What the hell is wrong with you people?” she yelled, no longer trying to humble herself to the police.

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11/4 #FridayPictureShow

Title: Nighshade Dalliance

Every night was the same, he came to me. He came in me. I didn’t know his name, he didn’t know mine. We didn’t need names or labels, we just were.

By day he was gone, perhaps a mirage or a ghost or my imagination. I did not care.

His touch set me afire, his kisses blistering, his body scorching.

As we moved together, his thrusts ignited a passion in me that no mortal man had before. I rose above myself, still entwined with his body. We soared, together adrift in our lovemaking, never ending until daybreak touched the sheets.

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11/7 #MenageMonday

Title: Soft Shoe

“Say what you want about the shoes, but my husband certainly likes them,” Marianne said as she showed off her patent leather heels.

“Oh, my John likes the shoes too,” Leilana agreed. “However, what he likes about the shoes is a bit disconcerting.”

Marianne arched an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“Hmm, how do I say this?” Leilana hesitated before continuing. “He likes to … wear them.”

“No!” The expression of shock on Marianne’s face was practically risible.

“Yes!” Leilana assured. “He goes nuts for them. I’ve been married to the man for over ten years and never knew he had such a shoe fetish!” She took a sip of her mojito as she gathered her thoughts. “You know those red platforms I bought last month that I just couldn’t want to wear out?”

Marianne nodded.

“He stole them! I never even got a chance to wear them before he had them all stretched out! The worst part is that he … he … masturbated on them! They’re ruined!”

Marianne choked on her sip of her drink. “Seriously?”

“Yes! I’m so embarrassed, shocked … gah, I don’t know what to feel, except I need a shoe locker with a strong lock.”

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11/8 #TuesdayTales (also done in the spirit of my Nano novel)

Title: Protection

Despite her anxiety, Alana was in high spirits. David was a source of effervescence for her. He made the anxiety and fear roll off her back when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and pretend that no one was after her.

As she looked out from his bedroom balcony, she no longer feared the outdoors. Between her pendant and the protection David provided, she knew that the destroyers could not hurt her.  She just had to figure out how to defeat them once and for all before they hurt anyone else in her family.

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11/8 #5MinuteFiction

Prompt: Your main character encounters your world’s version of the goose that laid the golden egg. 

Holy cow. I mean HOLY cow. Literally. Well, not literally since I wasn’t Hindu but still. This was awesome. I would be set for life. Hell, I’d be set for my next life too … and possibly the life after that.

I never would have thought I would have found the answer here of all places. Not quite exactly where one would expect it to be. Would you expect the THE book to just be laying there?

This wasn’t just any book, mind you. And no, it wasn’t the Bible or the Qur’an or the Vedas or even the Idiots Guide to Life.

No, this was much more important and world altering.

I had found a first edition, signed copy of, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Not important you say? HERESY.

Douglas Adams is a God in my universe and I found his holy writ.

Now don’t make me choke you with my towel if you disagree.

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And now I'm caught up. :)