Wednesday, April 29, 2009

To Pay or Not to Pay

This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week.

Brandon knew an opportunity when he saw one. The quarrel with his conscience didn’t last long.

“Wonderful service, old chap,” he informed the waiter, slapping him on the shoulder on his way out the door, leaving the check and payment in the little folder on the table.

“Damn,” cried the waiter, retrieving the money and noticing he had forgotten to add the entre to the bill. “What happened to all the honest people?”

Monday, April 27, 2009

Troll Under the Bridge

This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. A new take on an old tale.

“We can’t cross it,” Sherrie whispered to Rachel. “He’ll get us if we do!”

“Don’t be silly, Sherrie. There is no troll under this bridge. That was just a fairy tale.”

Sherrie studied the old bridge, trying to see underneath without actually getting any closer. She knew Rachel thought she was being a baby, but that troll under the bridge story really scared her. This bridge looked old enough a troll would like it, so she was not crossing it first.

“You go first then,” she told Rachel, pushing her forward.

“Oh, alright!” Rachel said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’ll see there’s nothing under this old bridge.

Rachel stepped to the edge of the bridge and halted. She would never admit it to Sherrie, but the story got to her a little too. She didn’t really believe trolls lived under bridges, but this one was old and rotten looking.

Drawing a deep breath, Rachel made the first step onto the bridge. It creaked under her weight, but nothing jumped out, so she proceeded. Sherrie watched, warily eyeing the bushes under the bridge for any sign of movement.

Rachel made it half way across, when a terrible thrashing ensued under the bridge. She screamed, ran back to Sherrie, grabbed her hand, and led her back toward home.

Neither of them noticed the family of rabbits hop from under the bridge and flee into the woods.


This is my contribution to the Shortest Short Story contest on the Washwords site. I hope y'all like it.

I bet Washington didn’t use words like this when talking to his troops, Private Ward thought, listening while the sergeant hurled obscenities at the men of C Company. Then again, his men won their battle.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Shit Happens

I had a writing prompt the other day on the Accentuate Writers Forum. It wanted to know what you would do if you were on the toilet, had finished your business, and found yourself to be without toilet paper on the roll, or under the cabinet. This is the story I came up with...

Doug finished his business, put his guns and ammo magazine down, and reached for the toilet paper. Coming away with only a wispy torn scrap, he reached over to get a new roll from under the cabinet.

“Damn!” he snapped, finding an empty Angel Soft bag.

He looked around, hoping to spot some sort of paper, with no luck. Finally, he decided the only recourse left was to hobble over to the pantry and get a washcloth.

Doug pulled his pants up to right above his knees, let out a deep breath, and stood half way up. He held his pants scrunched tightly in both hands, hobbled toward the pantry, keeping his but poked in the air, and the cheeks spread.

Finally reaching the pantry, he pulled the door open, only to see bare shelves.


After hitting the top shelf hard enough to knock it loose, where it in turn fell on the next two shelves, leaving the pantry a complete mess, Doug hobbled to the closet and snatched a shirt off its hanger.

Once he finished wiping, he buried the dirty shirt under the top layer of clothes in the hamper.

“That’ll teach the lazy bitch to keep the laundry done,” he quipped.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Blood Oath

This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. Hope y'all like it!

Carl pledged vengeance, an oath he reiterated each time he stuck his knife in a man whose ineptitude had played a part in his father’s death.

Employing a cunning deceit, he finally found the last of the group. Wanting to indulge his blood lust, he slowly withdrew the blade from the man’s side before plunging it in again, just a few inches closer to the bastard’s heart.

“Nothing like surgical precision is there, Doc?” he quipped, smiling into the dying eyes of his father’s killer.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009


This is my contribution for the Your Photo Story prompt this week.

Michael offered a silent prayer while looking out over the valley below. The viewing platform was high enough for him to see across the entire town resting in the nook between mountains.

He saw the power plant nestled in the middle of everything; the town sprawled out around it. “If only you had not supplied power to our enemies,” he cried.

Taking the cap off the canister clinched in his hands, he sighed deeply, before pouring the powdery contents into the wind. Watching the cloud of death sink over the homes below, tears sliding down his cheeks, Michael stepped onto the railing of the platform.

Closing his eyes tightly, Michael whispered, “I’m sorry,” before leaping.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Looking on the Bright Side

I combined the Three Word Wednesday prompt and the Your Photo Story promtps again. The photo on the Your Photo Story site this week was of an old outhouse. I liked how the words from 3WW worked with the pictue. I hope y'all enjoy it!

The outhouse held no allure for Melody. She was spitting nails, cursing Nathan every step of the way, while trekking through the high grass across the backyard. She couldn’t believe Nathan actually thought she would find the rustic cabin with no indoor plumbing quaint and fun.

That’s what I get for dating a man raised on a farm, she thought, yanking the outhouse door roughly open.

Her scream filled the night at sight of the grizzled old man perched on the wooden seat in the outhouse, everything on vivid display.

Nathan ran to her side, scared she’d come across a snake or something. When he spied the old man, he let out a chuckle.

Melody snapped out of her frightened stupor at the sound. “What are you laughing at?” she snapped. “He scared me half to death.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to use the outhouse anymore,” Nathan observed, noticing the wet spot on the ground between Melody’s feet.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Beautiful End

It was midnight yet the sky was brilliant orange. Even the screams of her family and friends couldn’t make Joy look away. It was so very beautiful.

She lay down in the meadow, ignoring the cries of the others. Resting her head on her hands, she thought back over her life: all the people she loved, the places she’d been, the things she never got to do. None of it mattered now.

The news had come three days ago. The end was imminent. The sun, giver of life, was taking it away. Some people prayed, some hid in caves hoping to survive somehow, and others…others like Joy, just sit back to watch.

No one could deny the beauty death was bringing. Oranges, yellows, and reds were painting the sky more brightly each hour.

Joy felt something brush her arm. Looking over, she saw people lying down all across the meadow. A tear rolled down her cheek when they all joined hands.

Her fingers entwined with the woman beside her, Joy closed her eyes as the sun enveloped them.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Smooth Landing

I combined the Three Word Wednesday and Your Photo Story prompts again because the words seemed to work so well for both this week! I hope y'all enjoy my little story.

Mom always did say I loved to flirt with danger, Floyd thought, looking down and watching the ground grow larger and larger. I bet she never dreamed I’d take it this far though, he mused, running over the ploy once more, ensuring he remembered everything.

Checking below, marking the distance left, he pulled the ripcord. Drawing on years of experience, he glided smoothly toward the earth and his ultimate destination.

Landing softly, Floyd cut the parachute cords and disengaged himself. He then silently stepped around the corner of the house, stopping when in view of the two occupants in the hot tub.

“Floyd,” Samantha sputtered, dropping her champagne glass and grabbing her bikini top, trying to cover herself.

Floyd calmly pulled his gun, shot Samantha and her new boyfriend, and then retraced his steps. Packing the chute in a bag he’d brought along, he went around the back of the house to the cliff edge, whistling all the while.

Checking his equipment to make sure all was well, Floyd dropped off the face of the cliff into a stunning sunset. The second small chute worked wonderfully, allowing Floyd to descend quietly to the canyon floor.

After touching down, Floyd walked into the mouth of the canyon, dragging the parachute behind him to eradicate his tracks. He still had on the shoe slipcovers, but figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

Arriving at the river that ran through the canyon, Floyd gathered wood to make a fire on the bank. He took off the shoe covers, stepped into the river, and then threw the covers in the fire along with the parachute and all its accoutrements.

Once the fire went out, Floyd brushed all the evidence off into the river.

That went rather well, he thought, swimming to the boat he had left in the river the night before.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Murphy's Law for Mothers

This story is for the Three Word Wednesday and Your Photo Story prompts. Hope y'all enjoy it!

Sandy was caught in the crush as all the children tried to go down the stairs at the same time. Admonishments of slow down, watch your step, and don’t knock your sister over fell on deaf ears.

“Hey, watch it! I’m first!” and “Harry pinched me!” were some of the many varied complaints uttered while each child tried to beat the other to the front door, and the promised ice cream that waited in the truck at the end of the drive way.

Sandy started to warn Michael about pinching, when her heel caught on the stair runner, sending her sliding down the last few steps to land in a heap at the bottom.

“Mommy fell down the stairs,” Little Sarah giggled, pointing at Sandy.

She always did have a knack for stating the obvious, Sandy mused, pushing to her feet.