Sunday, September 27, 2009

The Gates of Paradise

This is my story for the Your Photo Story prompt. Hope y'all like it.

Carrie saw the gates up ahead. She was sure she could push through the pain a little farther and make it to them and then someone would find her.

Stumbling, Carrie fell to one knee, winching in pain when the wound in her stomach reopened. Grabbing a nearby tree for support, she pushed to her feet and began walking toward the gates again.

I can’t believe I shot myself, she thought, holding her stomach, walking hunched over, one step at a time. Daddy would be so disappointed in me, she mused, tears rolling down her cheeks. Eyes blurring, she stopped to catch her breath before continuing. She was so tired. She wanted to sit and rest but knew that was out of the question. You have to keep going, she silently urged, you’ll die if you don’t.

The third time she fell, Carrie could not get back up. She lay there, dazed and motionless. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered with her last breath.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009


This is my contribution to one of the Your Photo Story prompts. It's a little different than my usual work, but not alot.

“Run, children, run!”

Maria hurried the children along, hoping to keep them out of harm’s way. She looked back and saw the death bringer getting closer. Pushing faster, she urged the children under the porch.

Hearing death come ever closer, Maria covered her last child, the only one not under the porch yet, with her body. Maria held the child close and whispered that she loved him with her last breath.

Charles crawled out from under his mother’s lifeless form and watched the death bringer walk away.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

The Woods

This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. Hope y'all like this one. Nobody dies at

Janet ran for all she was worth. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to find her pursuer. Not seeing him, she rested against an oak tree. Breathing deeply, she looked around for a weapon, anything she could use against the maniac following her.

“Damn,” she muttered, spotting only a small tree branch. “Better than nothing I guess,” she added, picking it up and heading out again.

Janet wasn’t sure which way the road was. She got turned around when the man chased her off the hiking trail. She thought if she ran toward the mountain she’d come upon the road. She only knew one thing for certain: she had to keep moving.

Pushing through the stitch in her side, Janet ran, keeping the mountain in sight the best she could. She stumbled when she noticed clouds gathering and the sun going down. Without the mountain for a guide, she wasn’t sure she would stay on track.

Stop, she silently ordered, you can do this! That bastard is not going to catch you!

“Come out; come out, wherever you are.”

Janet froze at the sound of his voice. She could tell he was only a short distance behind her. Walking quietly, placing each foot to avoid noise, she ducked into a thicket of undergrowth as silently as she could.

The man searched, whispering obscenities and menacing threats while he looked. Janet held her breath, hoping he would walk by her hiding spot. When he stopped right in front of her, she gasped.

“There you are!” he shouted, pushing his hand toward the noise and grabbing her by the hair.

What he failed to notice was the branch in Janet’s hand. While he was busy holding her and sneering into her face, Janet brought the branch up and hit him over the head. The blow only startled him, but that was enough for Janet. She took the opportunity to kick him in the left knee as hard as she could, and then brought her knee into his jaw when he bent over.

“Take that, Bastard,” she shouted, picking a rock up and hitting him in the head, “and that,” she added kicking him in the ribs a few times.

Catching her breath, Janet started running again. Ten minutes later, she found the road. Standing in the middle of the street, she flagged down a pickup truck. The man inside remarked on her disheveled appearance. Janet smiled and said, “You should see the other guy.”

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


This is my contribution to last week's Your Photo Story prompt. Short one this time.

Sergeant Marks grimaced in pity, looking from the gash in her head and following the terror-stricken death gaze of Sandra Johnson. Crouched, he watched light wink off the keys lying a few feet under the car, just out of reach of her outstretched hand.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009


A story for the Your Photo Story blog. I hope y'all like it.

Clancy bared his teeth and howled into the night. Sniffing the air, he caught the scent of his prey and headed into the alley.

Elle watched from behind the dumpster, silently praying he would pass her by. Scrunched tightly into the crevice between the metal trash bin and the door facing of a condemned bakery, she held her breath.

Clancy crashed into a stack of boxes, sending them careening every which way before moving on. He knew she was close, he could smell her, fear permeating the air.

Two drunken revelers staggered into the mouth of the alley, stretching their necks forward, trying to figure out what they were seeing. “I think it’s time to stop drinking,” one commented to the other, dropping the bottle of whiskey he held.

Elle let out an involuntary cry, watching the two men back out of the alley. Clancy rushed toward the whimper.

Nose pushed into the opening between the dumpster and the wall, saliva dripping off his chin, Clancy stared into the eyes of his prey. Frozen in fear, Elle sat, transfixed while the beast pushed the dumpster aside like it weighed nothing.

Pushing backward on all fours, Elle tried futilely to escape. The first bite rendered her immobile. Ripping flesh from bone, Clancy savored his meal. Elle’s screams were drowned out by the merriment up and down Bourbon Street.