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.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Playing with Fire
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for July 27th.
Nancy watched flames dance in the evening breeze. An eerie smile graced her face while she slowly poured a line of gasoline from the small campfire to the tent, making sure to douse the outside of the enclosure.
Silently, she circled around the tent and back to the campfire. Once there, she sat the can down and drew a book of matches she had stolen earlier from her pocket. Striking a match, she giggled and dropped it on the line of gas.
She stood, transfixed, watching fire leap from the small blaze and follow the trail she had made to the tent.
“What the hell!” a voice cried from inside the tent.
Nancy giggled once more when the tent zipper refused to open; happy the glue she had applied earlier was working long enough for the fire to catch.
“Nancy!” the man yelled. “Help me!”
“I don’t want to help you tonight, Daddy,” Nancy replied. “I helped you last night remember? You said you’d never felt anything so warm.” Tears running down her cheeks, she added, “I told you it hurt, Daddy. That it burned like fire. You said a little fire never hurt anyone.”
Nancy watched flames dance in the evening breeze. An eerie smile graced her face while she slowly poured a line of gasoline from the small campfire to the tent, making sure to douse the outside of the enclosure.
Silently, she circled around the tent and back to the campfire. Once there, she sat the can down and drew a book of matches she had stolen earlier from her pocket. Striking a match, she giggled and dropped it on the line of gas.
She stood, transfixed, watching fire leap from the small blaze and follow the trail she had made to the tent.
“What the hell!” a voice cried from inside the tent.
Nancy giggled once more when the tent zipper refused to open; happy the glue she had applied earlier was working long enough for the fire to catch.
“Nancy!” the man yelled. “Help me!”
“I don’t want to help you tonight, Daddy,” Nancy replied. “I helped you last night remember? You said you’d never felt anything so warm.” Tears running down her cheeks, she added, “I told you it hurt, Daddy. That it burned like fire. You said a little fire never hurt anyone.”
Daddy's Little Helper
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story photo prompt from July 15th. I'm playing catch up!
Daniel never saw Roy pick the hammer up. One minute he was pounding the last nail into the porch step, and the next he was holding his hand close to his chest, jumping around and howling in pain.
Sandra couldn’t help but laugh. “He was only trying to help,” she sputtered. “You’re always saying you wish he’d do more guy stuff with you,” she added, quickly picking Roy up and heading inside.
Daniel never saw Roy pick the hammer up. One minute he was pounding the last nail into the porch step, and the next he was holding his hand close to his chest, jumping around and howling in pain.
Sandra couldn’t help but laugh. “He was only trying to help,” she sputtered. “You’re always saying you wish he’d do more guy stuff with you,” she added, quickly picking Roy up and heading inside.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Self Sufficient
The words for Three Word Wednesday this week were: cradle, perfect and snare. Hope you like my offering.
Jacob cackled with glee at the bounty the perfect snare he’d set the night before held. Picking it up, he settled the rabbit in the cradle of his arms and headed home for supper.
Jacob cackled with glee at the bounty the perfect snare he’d set the night before held. Picking it up, he settled the rabbit in the cradle of his arms and headed home for supper.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Impatient Torture
Finally doing another Three Word Wednesday prompt. Hope y'all like this one.
“Wipe that sulk off your face,” Terrance teased Bruce, who was starring hypnotically at the man before them, pouting because of the wait. “You’ll get to kill him soon enough.”
“This waiting around shit is for the birds,” Bruce answered back. “This is supposed to be torture?” he added, watching the drip drip of water hit their prisoners face.
“Supposed to drive them crazy or something, and make them want to talk to stop it,” Terrance replied.
“I don’t know about him, but it’s driving me crazy.”
“You didn’t have far to go,” Terrance quipped, and then ducked the blow Bruce aimed at his head.
The two were locked in a combat embrace when the door burst open. “What the hell’s going on here?” their commander demanded.
“Sorry, Sir,” Bruce saluted.
“Won’t happen again,” Terrance added.
“See that it doesn’t,” the commander said, then ordered, “Kill him,” pointing at the prisoner. “We no longer need the information he possess.”
Bruce smiled, saluted again, and headed for the door.
“Bout time.” Terrance heard him mumble, before he slipped his revolver out of its holster and shot the man twice in the head.
“Wipe that sulk off your face,” Terrance teased Bruce, who was starring hypnotically at the man before them, pouting because of the wait. “You’ll get to kill him soon enough.”
“This waiting around shit is for the birds,” Bruce answered back. “This is supposed to be torture?” he added, watching the drip drip of water hit their prisoners face.
“Supposed to drive them crazy or something, and make them want to talk to stop it,” Terrance replied.
“I don’t know about him, but it’s driving me crazy.”
“You didn’t have far to go,” Terrance quipped, and then ducked the blow Bruce aimed at his head.
The two were locked in a combat embrace when the door burst open. “What the hell’s going on here?” their commander demanded.
“Sorry, Sir,” Bruce saluted.
“Won’t happen again,” Terrance added.
“See that it doesn’t,” the commander said, then ordered, “Kill him,” pointing at the prisoner. “We no longer need the information he possess.”
Bruce smiled, saluted again, and headed for the door.
“Bout time.” Terrance heard him mumble, before he slipped his revolver out of its holster and shot the man twice in the head.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The End
This is the last story I needed to do for the Your Photo Story prompt site to catch up.
Mark heard the rumble and looked up; not knowing it was already too late. He could only watch in horror as piles of boulders slammed down upon him. He tried to issue a warning to those below, but his scream was silenced by one well-placed rock landing on his head. In his last moments, Mark laid helpless, eyes focused on the house below, his wife and son silhouetted in living room window, tears streaming down their faces.
Mark heard the rumble and looked up; not knowing it was already too late. He could only watch in horror as piles of boulders slammed down upon him. He tried to issue a warning to those below, but his scream was silenced by one well-placed rock landing on his head. In his last moments, Mark laid helpless, eyes focused on the house below, his wife and son silhouetted in living room window, tears streaming down their faces.
Lost
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for June 16. I am catching my stories up today.
Tyler stopped to catch his breath, resting against a slab of rock. Standing upright again, he slammed his fist against the granite surface after noticing the map. The same map he had stumbled upon earlier and followed to find his way out of the woods.
“Damnit!” he shouted. “I’ve been going in circles!”
He studied the map once more, trying to figure out where he went wrong. “I don’t understand it, I followed the map exactly,” he mumbled, unfolding the piece of paper he had copied the map onto.
Disgusted, he crumpled the paper and shoved it in his pack. “I’ll find my own way out of these God forsaken woods,” he stated, setting out.
What he failed to notice was a small piece of rock lying on the ground at the base of the granite map that stated: Due to recent erosion and storms, the trail map is no longer correct. A new map will be provided soon.
Tyler stopped to catch his breath, resting against a slab of rock. Standing upright again, he slammed his fist against the granite surface after noticing the map. The same map he had stumbled upon earlier and followed to find his way out of the woods.
“Damnit!” he shouted. “I’ve been going in circles!”
He studied the map once more, trying to figure out where he went wrong. “I don’t understand it, I followed the map exactly,” he mumbled, unfolding the piece of paper he had copied the map onto.
Disgusted, he crumpled the paper and shoved it in his pack. “I’ll find my own way out of these God forsaken woods,” he stated, setting out.
What he failed to notice was a small piece of rock lying on the ground at the base of the granite map that stated: Due to recent erosion and storms, the trail map is no longer correct. A new map will be provided soon.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Release
Penelope was tired. She was tired of fighting, of trying to hang on. The pain was unbearable, excruciating. Every movement hurt, even blinking. It was time to end it.
Hearing his key in the lock, she braced herself.
“What the hell?” he screamed, sighting the mess in the floor. “Clean it up, bitch!”
Penelope spit in his face. “No.”
The blow was strong, but not strong enough.
“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted.
His fists reigned down then. With the pain came release. Penelope smiled, being in control of her own fate for a change felt awesome.
Hearing his key in the lock, she braced herself.
“What the hell?” he screamed, sighting the mess in the floor. “Clean it up, bitch!”
Penelope spit in his face. “No.”
The blow was strong, but not strong enough.
“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted.
His fists reigned down then. With the pain came release. Penelope smiled, being in control of her own fate for a change felt awesome.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Forbidden Swim
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week.
Amber watched the cool, clear water cascade over the rocks and splash into the stream below. She dipped her toes in the stream, testing the water temperature. Cold but bearable, she thought, scanning the tree line to see if anyone else was around.
Suppressing a girlish giggle, she started unbuttoning her blouse. By the time she was down to her knickers, she was shaking with anticipation. She knew the water was going to feel delicious.
“Aw, heaven,” she murmured, submerging up to her neck.
She swam and frolicked in the water for over an hour before the chill in the air caught her attention. Standing, she quickly covered her breasts and looked around, making sure she was still alone.
She slipped out of her knickers as fast as possible, and then donned her blouse and skirt. With one last, lingering glance at the falls and stream, she sighed and turned for home.
The man in the bushes wiped sweat from his brow. His hands were shaking he was so overworked from what he had just witnessed. “Heaven indeed,” he whispered, watching the woman disappear around the bend.
Amber watched the cool, clear water cascade over the rocks and splash into the stream below. She dipped her toes in the stream, testing the water temperature. Cold but bearable, she thought, scanning the tree line to see if anyone else was around.
Suppressing a girlish giggle, she started unbuttoning her blouse. By the time she was down to her knickers, she was shaking with anticipation. She knew the water was going to feel delicious.
“Aw, heaven,” she murmured, submerging up to her neck.
She swam and frolicked in the water for over an hour before the chill in the air caught her attention. Standing, she quickly covered her breasts and looked around, making sure she was still alone.
She slipped out of her knickers as fast as possible, and then donned her blouse and skirt. With one last, lingering glance at the falls and stream, she sighed and turned for home.
The man in the bushes wiped sweat from his brow. His hands were shaking he was so overworked from what he had just witnessed. “Heaven indeed,” he whispered, watching the woman disappear around the bend.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Reap the Oats You Sow
This is my contribution for this week's Your Photo Story prompt.
Jeb sat on the porch in his rocker, shotgun across his lap. He squinted into the distance, waiting for the first sign of dust to signal Marybeth’s return.
“That girl’s gonna be sorry she was ever born,” he muttered, spitting tobacco in a spittoon by his side.
“Aw, don’t be too hard on her, Jeb,” Sarah said from the doorway. “She’s just sowing her oats.”
“Wild oats, no doubt,” Jeb spat. “With that Williams boy.”
“He’s not a bad boy,” Sarah assured Jeb.
“Never said he was,” Jeb replied. “He’s just not good enough for my little girl.”
“Nobody’s gonna be good enough for Marybeth in your eyes, Jeb.”
“Damn right!” Jeb agreed, and spit another wad into the spittoon.
“She’s grown, Jeb. You gotta let her live her own life.”
“She can live her own life when she has he own house.”
“You never change,” Sarah sighed.
Jeb shrugged, and went back to rocking. Sarah knew there was no talking to him once he made up his mind. She went back in the house, waiting for the fight to come. Because as stubborn as Jeb was, Marybeth had him beat.
A few minutes later, Sarah heard the rocker stop squeaking. She stopped washing dishes, took a deep breath, and waited to hear what happened.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” Jeb demanded as soon as Marybeth and Jacob stepped onto the porch.
“We got married, Pa,” Marybeth said, smile beaming.
“You what!” Jeb shouted, jumping up and engaging the shotgun. “I’m gonna kill you, boy. Say your prayers now.”
“Pa!” Marybeth yelled, stepping in front of Jacob. “Hear me out.”
“I don’t care what you got to say,” Jeb shouted.
“I’m pregnant, Pa,” Marybeth whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You’re gonna be a grandpa.”
“I…what?” Jeb sputtered, falling hard into the rocker.
“Oh, baby,” Sarah said, rushing out the door and engulfing Marybeth in a hug. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, Ma,” Marybeth said. Pulling Jacob over, she added, “We’re both very happy about this baby.”
“That’s good.” Sarah offered, sliding a glance at Jeb.
“Well, you ain’t raising it here,” Jeb snapped.
“Jeb!” Sarah squealed. “Don’t be that way.”
“It’s ok, Ma. We don’t need to live here. Jacob rented us a place in town.”
Sarah couldn’t help herself. She poked Jeb in the ribs and said, “I guess she can live her own life then, huh?”
Jeb sat on the porch in his rocker, shotgun across his lap. He squinted into the distance, waiting for the first sign of dust to signal Marybeth’s return.
“That girl’s gonna be sorry she was ever born,” he muttered, spitting tobacco in a spittoon by his side.
“Aw, don’t be too hard on her, Jeb,” Sarah said from the doorway. “She’s just sowing her oats.”
“Wild oats, no doubt,” Jeb spat. “With that Williams boy.”
“He’s not a bad boy,” Sarah assured Jeb.
“Never said he was,” Jeb replied. “He’s just not good enough for my little girl.”
“Nobody’s gonna be good enough for Marybeth in your eyes, Jeb.”
“Damn right!” Jeb agreed, and spit another wad into the spittoon.
“She’s grown, Jeb. You gotta let her live her own life.”
“She can live her own life when she has he own house.”
“You never change,” Sarah sighed.
Jeb shrugged, and went back to rocking. Sarah knew there was no talking to him once he made up his mind. She went back in the house, waiting for the fight to come. Because as stubborn as Jeb was, Marybeth had him beat.
A few minutes later, Sarah heard the rocker stop squeaking. She stopped washing dishes, took a deep breath, and waited to hear what happened.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” Jeb demanded as soon as Marybeth and Jacob stepped onto the porch.
“We got married, Pa,” Marybeth said, smile beaming.
“You what!” Jeb shouted, jumping up and engaging the shotgun. “I’m gonna kill you, boy. Say your prayers now.”
“Pa!” Marybeth yelled, stepping in front of Jacob. “Hear me out.”
“I don’t care what you got to say,” Jeb shouted.
“I’m pregnant, Pa,” Marybeth whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You’re gonna be a grandpa.”
“I…what?” Jeb sputtered, falling hard into the rocker.
“Oh, baby,” Sarah said, rushing out the door and engulfing Marybeth in a hug. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, Ma,” Marybeth said. Pulling Jacob over, she added, “We’re both very happy about this baby.”
“That’s good.” Sarah offered, sliding a glance at Jeb.
“Well, you ain’t raising it here,” Jeb snapped.
“Jeb!” Sarah squealed. “Don’t be that way.”
“It’s ok, Ma. We don’t need to live here. Jacob rented us a place in town.”
Sarah couldn’t help herself. She poked Jeb in the ribs and said, “I guess she can live her own life then, huh?”
Truth by Mail
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt.
Samantha learned the folly of her ways after a particularly hostile missive arrived in the mail.
“Now I know what a sexy man like him was doing with an ordinary woman like me,” she sighed, tearing the letter his wife had sent up and throwing it in the trash.
Samantha learned the folly of her ways after a particularly hostile missive arrived in the mail.
“Now I know what a sexy man like him was doing with an ordinary woman like me,” she sighed, tearing the letter his wife had sent up and throwing it in the trash.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Orders
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. It's very loosely based on truth about my dad.
Terry had stared into the camera, scared to death but trying hard not to show it. He had signed up to be a mechanic, but orders had come down and he was sent to Vietnam. Needless to say, his wife wasn’t happy with the arrangement either.
It turned out the deployment was more than his wife could take. She took the twins and left him, a dear John letter was the least of his worries. She took all his possessions and burned or sold them. She also kept the kids away from him when he came back. He hadn’t seen them since.
He sighed, crumpling the picture in his clinched fist. Looking back, Vietnam had been the best time of his life. People thought he was crazy for doing two tours, but he always asked them what he had to come home to.
Turns out, he was right. His life went straight to hell when he came back to the states. Protesters throwing tomatoes at disembarking soldiers, riots in the streets, and an empty house. If only that had been the worst of it.
Now, here he sat with lung cancer. They told him agent orange was responsible, which meant they’d pay the bills, but what good did that do him? He was still dying. Dying, in a one-room apartment, his only companion a floppy eared hound in dire need of a bath.
A knock at the door startled him. Hobbling over, he looked through the peephole, astonished he had company. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come by.
“I’ll be damned,” he uttered, grabbing he door handle.
Standing on the other side, smiling shyly, were two mirror images of the picture still clutched in his hand.
Terry had stared into the camera, scared to death but trying hard not to show it. He had signed up to be a mechanic, but orders had come down and he was sent to Vietnam. Needless to say, his wife wasn’t happy with the arrangement either.
It turned out the deployment was more than his wife could take. She took the twins and left him, a dear John letter was the least of his worries. She took all his possessions and burned or sold them. She also kept the kids away from him when he came back. He hadn’t seen them since.
He sighed, crumpling the picture in his clinched fist. Looking back, Vietnam had been the best time of his life. People thought he was crazy for doing two tours, but he always asked them what he had to come home to.
Turns out, he was right. His life went straight to hell when he came back to the states. Protesters throwing tomatoes at disembarking soldiers, riots in the streets, and an empty house. If only that had been the worst of it.
Now, here he sat with lung cancer. They told him agent orange was responsible, which meant they’d pay the bills, but what good did that do him? He was still dying. Dying, in a one-room apartment, his only companion a floppy eared hound in dire need of a bath.
A knock at the door startled him. Hobbling over, he looked through the peephole, astonished he had company. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come by.
“I’ll be damned,” he uttered, grabbing he door handle.
Standing on the other side, smiling shyly, were two mirror images of the picture still clutched in his hand.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Two Sentence Stories
A while back, I entered some two-sentence stories for a contest site. I didn’t win, but I like my stories so thought I’d share them with y’all. Do any of you write micro-fiction?
Abandoned
A single tear slid down his cheek, uncomfortable emotions clogged his throat, and anger pulsed at the injustice of it all when the tiny, perfect hand clasped his finger. With a frustrated sigh, he hugged the baby close, stood, and cast a last look at the carnage that represented two ruined lives, before walking around the lifeless body and handing the precious bundle to the waiting social worker.
Dumping the Pain
I sat, agonizing, wishing I’d made a different choice, and hoping the pain would end soon. After one last, sharp twinge expelled the demon mass from my body, I sighed, flushed, and went to rejoin the party, grabbing a cheese ball on the way.
Fire Stoked
When first married, passion’s fire so hot, never the lovemaking did you scrimp.Twenty years later, the embers are cold, and poker limp.
Overcoming Temptation
Ruth stood, empty hands clenched, watching the truck disappear.
“Wish he’d peddle his damn ice cream on another street,” she fumed, heading back inside.
Regrets
Heart heavy, shoulders slumped, he opened the front door. After crossing the threshold, with the mistake he made tormenting his soul, he shut the door on his past and his future.
Carnal Dance
Sweat glistened on bodies joined in carnal dance, trickled over softly rounded landscapes, dipped into secret valleys, while the frenzy increased. After echoes of the last soaring crescendo diminished, the slickened bodies separated, heartbeats slowed, and passion cooled the weeping love had ignited.
Financial Woes
Frustrated, Ronald released a forlorn sigh. Hanging his head in defeat, he placed one more bill on the ever-growing pile.
Impatience Rewarded
Smiling glances traded by the aged couple sitting on the front row as cherished memories dance through their minds, whispered antidotes of childhood pranks and mishaps, and one fidgety dance of impatience all come to a halt when the gilded doors at the back of the room opened. Tony knew the wait was worth it, the extra few minutes time well spent, when his bride came through the doors and he watched his future walk toward him, one beautiful step at a time.
Pushing the Limits
Poised on the brink, muscles taut, back straight, Carol dives into history. Slicing the water cleanly, no ripples present, she emerges to eruptions from the crowd and the announcer proclaiming a new record set.
Abandoned
A single tear slid down his cheek, uncomfortable emotions clogged his throat, and anger pulsed at the injustice of it all when the tiny, perfect hand clasped his finger. With a frustrated sigh, he hugged the baby close, stood, and cast a last look at the carnage that represented two ruined lives, before walking around the lifeless body and handing the precious bundle to the waiting social worker.
Dumping the Pain
I sat, agonizing, wishing I’d made a different choice, and hoping the pain would end soon. After one last, sharp twinge expelled the demon mass from my body, I sighed, flushed, and went to rejoin the party, grabbing a cheese ball on the way.
Fire Stoked
When first married, passion’s fire so hot, never the lovemaking did you scrimp.Twenty years later, the embers are cold, and poker limp.
Overcoming Temptation
Ruth stood, empty hands clenched, watching the truck disappear.
“Wish he’d peddle his damn ice cream on another street,” she fumed, heading back inside.
Regrets
Heart heavy, shoulders slumped, he opened the front door. After crossing the threshold, with the mistake he made tormenting his soul, he shut the door on his past and his future.
Carnal Dance
Sweat glistened on bodies joined in carnal dance, trickled over softly rounded landscapes, dipped into secret valleys, while the frenzy increased. After echoes of the last soaring crescendo diminished, the slickened bodies separated, heartbeats slowed, and passion cooled the weeping love had ignited.
Financial Woes
Frustrated, Ronald released a forlorn sigh. Hanging his head in defeat, he placed one more bill on the ever-growing pile.
Impatience Rewarded
Smiling glances traded by the aged couple sitting on the front row as cherished memories dance through their minds, whispered antidotes of childhood pranks and mishaps, and one fidgety dance of impatience all come to a halt when the gilded doors at the back of the room opened. Tony knew the wait was worth it, the extra few minutes time well spent, when his bride came through the doors and he watched his future walk toward him, one beautiful step at a time.
Pushing the Limits
Poised on the brink, muscles taut, back straight, Carol dives into history. Slicing the water cleanly, no ripples present, she emerges to eruptions from the crowd and the announcer proclaiming a new record set.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Spread Your Wings
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week.
Jake looked out over the horizon, waiting to catch his breath. The trek up the mountain had been hard on him, but he was determined to make it. A tear slipped down his cheek at the beauty nature laid out before him.
He knew people would think him selfish, but he just didn’t want to go on…not this way. The infection was slowly eating away at him from the inside out. The doctors can’t figure out how to stop it, so keep telling him to just take it easy and hope for the best. He knows there is no best though.
He could feel the end coming, and he knows it would not be pleasant, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.
What better way to go out, he thought, gazing at the mountains and valleys surrounding his perch.
“You lose!” he shouted, stepping off the precipice into serenity.
Jake looked out over the horizon, waiting to catch his breath. The trek up the mountain had been hard on him, but he was determined to make it. A tear slipped down his cheek at the beauty nature laid out before him.
He knew people would think him selfish, but he just didn’t want to go on…not this way. The infection was slowly eating away at him from the inside out. The doctors can’t figure out how to stop it, so keep telling him to just take it easy and hope for the best. He knows there is no best though.
He could feel the end coming, and he knows it would not be pleasant, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.
What better way to go out, he thought, gazing at the mountains and valleys surrounding his perch.
“You lose!” he shouted, stepping off the precipice into serenity.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Cause and Effect
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Hope you enjoy it!
Sean lined up, finding the perfect trajectory. With a last nervous look over his shoulder, he set the projectile on course, before ducking behind a concrete divider.
After hearing the first scream, Sean peeked around the divider. The chunks of red muck covering Casey William’s face brought a chuckle. The murderous look in her eye when she threw pudding at Sheila Brown added to his delight. At least now they have something to bicker about, he thought, slipping out the cafeteria doorway.
Sean lined up, finding the perfect trajectory. With a last nervous look over his shoulder, he set the projectile on course, before ducking behind a concrete divider.
After hearing the first scream, Sean peeked around the divider. The chunks of red muck covering Casey William’s face brought a chuckle. The murderous look in her eye when she threw pudding at Sheila Brown added to his delight. At least now they have something to bicker about, he thought, slipping out the cafeteria doorway.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Garden Guests
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week.
John stood back and looked at the garden with satisfaction. The perfect rows of corn swaying in the breeze, the tomatoes red and juicy, ready for picking, and the cabbage leaves nice and green. He thought maybe this farming business wasn’t going to be as hard as he once expected.
He was turning to go back inside when movement under a cabbage leaf caught his eye. Stepping closer to investigate, he about jumped out of his skin when a rabbit poked its head out.
“Get out of there,” he yelled, flapping his hat at the animal.
The rabbit hopped away, into the surrounding fields. John decided he might need some fencing around the garden like others had suggested. He sure didn’t want rabbits eating up all his vegetables, so planned to go into town and get some fencing the next day.
The next morning, John was getting in his truck when he noticed something didn’t look right in the garden. On closer inspection, he saw that one whole row of cabbage was destroyed. He could see evidence of teeth marks on the remaining stubs left in the ground.
“Damn rabbits!”
John worked long into the evening installing his newly purchased fence, cursing rabbits the whole time. He was sure the garden was secure once he finished. Rubbing his aching back, he retreated to the comfort of home.
Late that night, a sound woke him from a deep sleep. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, he looked out the kitchen window.
“I’ll be damned,” he sputtered, watching rabbits hop all around the cabbage rows. “I don’t know how you got in there, you little bastards, but I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispered, grabbing his shotgun.
Not even stopping to dress, John ran outside. He was in such a hurry, he forgot the front steps were lose and tumbled down them head over heels, landing on the left over fencing material he was going to get rid of the next morning.
After pushing to his feet, John shook his head to clear it. Seeing another cabbage leaf in the garden become rabbit food, his blood boiled. He let out a roar and started forward, entangling both feet in fence wire.
This time when he fell, his head hit the sledgehammer he had used to pound the fence posts into the ground, cracking his skull and ending his troubles.
The rabbits watched to see if the human would move again. Finally, they decided it was safe and resumed dinner.
John stood back and looked at the garden with satisfaction. The perfect rows of corn swaying in the breeze, the tomatoes red and juicy, ready for picking, and the cabbage leaves nice and green. He thought maybe this farming business wasn’t going to be as hard as he once expected.
He was turning to go back inside when movement under a cabbage leaf caught his eye. Stepping closer to investigate, he about jumped out of his skin when a rabbit poked its head out.
“Get out of there,” he yelled, flapping his hat at the animal.
The rabbit hopped away, into the surrounding fields. John decided he might need some fencing around the garden like others had suggested. He sure didn’t want rabbits eating up all his vegetables, so planned to go into town and get some fencing the next day.
The next morning, John was getting in his truck when he noticed something didn’t look right in the garden. On closer inspection, he saw that one whole row of cabbage was destroyed. He could see evidence of teeth marks on the remaining stubs left in the ground.
“Damn rabbits!”
John worked long into the evening installing his newly purchased fence, cursing rabbits the whole time. He was sure the garden was secure once he finished. Rubbing his aching back, he retreated to the comfort of home.
Late that night, a sound woke him from a deep sleep. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, he looked out the kitchen window.
“I’ll be damned,” he sputtered, watching rabbits hop all around the cabbage rows. “I don’t know how you got in there, you little bastards, but I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispered, grabbing his shotgun.
Not even stopping to dress, John ran outside. He was in such a hurry, he forgot the front steps were lose and tumbled down them head over heels, landing on the left over fencing material he was going to get rid of the next morning.
After pushing to his feet, John shook his head to clear it. Seeing another cabbage leaf in the garden become rabbit food, his blood boiled. He let out a roar and started forward, entangling both feet in fence wire.
This time when he fell, his head hit the sledgehammer he had used to pound the fence posts into the ground, cracking his skull and ending his troubles.
The rabbits watched to see if the human would move again. Finally, they decided it was safe and resumed dinner.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Turn About is Fair Play
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Short, but not so sweet!
It came to Sarah in a flash. No tiptoeing around or being cryptic, she went straight for the jugular.
Robin Johnson gave Gary Evans a blowjob last Saturday behind Jake’s BBQ.
Malign my character again, bitch, she thought, hitting send, and sitting back with a self-satisfied smile, watching the messages start popping up.
It came to Sarah in a flash. No tiptoeing around or being cryptic, she went straight for the jugular.
Robin Johnson gave Gary Evans a blowjob last Saturday behind Jake’s BBQ.
Malign my character again, bitch, she thought, hitting send, and sitting back with a self-satisfied smile, watching the messages start popping up.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Daddy's Belt
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. I bet this one is something alot of people can relate to in one way or another.
Amelia stares at the belt, goose bumps popping out on her arms. She doesn’t move though. She knows to run will bring worse consequences than standing and taking her punishment like a man.
She remembers the day she asked her father how she could take it like a man when she was a girl. She never made that mistake again. Rubbing her leg, she winces while thinking about the welt he had left that took three weeks to heal.
Cringing when the screen door slams, Amelia calmly walks to the belt. Pulling it off the hook, she carries it outside to her father who was waiting behind the barn. He takes the belt, sits down on the oak stump, and pats his lap. Amelia lies across his legs, waiting for the first stinging thwack.
Jerking, but being sure to make no noise, Amelia endures her punishment. She is confused when her father stops at three smacks, expecting the usual five. Suddenly, she finds herself in the dirt at her father’s feet. Looking up, she sees him clinch his chest and fall backward over the stump.
“Come along, Amelia.”
“I’m coming, Mama,” Amelia replies, stepping to her side. “Here,” she says, thrusting something into her mother’s hand. “I didn’t want them to forget daddy’s belt,” she smiles, and wonders at the tear running down her mother’s cheek.
Amelia stares at the belt, goose bumps popping out on her arms. She doesn’t move though. She knows to run will bring worse consequences than standing and taking her punishment like a man.
She remembers the day she asked her father how she could take it like a man when she was a girl. She never made that mistake again. Rubbing her leg, she winces while thinking about the welt he had left that took three weeks to heal.
Cringing when the screen door slams, Amelia calmly walks to the belt. Pulling it off the hook, she carries it outside to her father who was waiting behind the barn. He takes the belt, sits down on the oak stump, and pats his lap. Amelia lies across his legs, waiting for the first stinging thwack.
Jerking, but being sure to make no noise, Amelia endures her punishment. She is confused when her father stops at three smacks, expecting the usual five. Suddenly, she finds herself in the dirt at her father’s feet. Looking up, she sees him clinch his chest and fall backward over the stump.
***
“Come along, Amelia.”
“I’m coming, Mama,” Amelia replies, stepping to her side. “Here,” she says, thrusting something into her mother’s hand. “I didn’t want them to forget daddy’s belt,” she smiles, and wonders at the tear running down her mother’s cheek.
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?”
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.
“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.
Defeat
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.
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.
“Shit!”
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.
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.
“Shit!”
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.
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
Terrorism
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Reacting
This is my story for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week.
“You really do need to learn to be proactive instead of reactive, Aerial,” Shawn snapped. “You let people run all over you, claiming it’s in your best interest. By the time you figure out what they’re up to, it’s too late,” he finished with a sigh.
“There’s nothing wrong with trusting people,” Aerial replied earnestly. “You’d have more friends if you gave people a chance.”
“I don’t need more friends,” Shawn replied. “Especially not like yours.”
“I have very good friends,” Aerial huffed.
“Yeah, why aren’t they here helping?” he inquired.
Aerial looked at him, tears welling in her eyes, before turning her back. Seeing her shoulders slump, Shawn felt like a total cad. He started to apologize, but then remembered one of her ‘friends’ was the reason they were in their current predicament, and kept his mouth shut. He shook his head, not understanding how even Aerial could let someone paint a mural on their parent’s garage.
Aerial couldn’t handle the silence any longer, so asked Shawn if she could do anything to help.
Shawn handed her a rag, “start wiping,” he said, and resumed his own scrubbing. “I think I’m almost through the first layer.”
“I’m sorry you have to do this, Shawn,” Aerial whispered. “I thought it would be a cool surprise for mom and dad. I never dreamed he’d paint naked fairies!”
“It’s ok, Sis,” Shawn sighed. “If I’d been home like I was supposed to be it never would have happened.
Aerial giggled.
“I don’t see anything funny here.” Shawn grumped.
“If you’d stayed home instead of going out with Shirley, you wouldn’t be cleaning paint of the garage door with me,” Aerial told him.
“Yeah, so?”
“Looks like you’re doing a little reacting of your own,” Aerial smiled, ducking the rag he threw at her.
“You really do need to learn to be proactive instead of reactive, Aerial,” Shawn snapped. “You let people run all over you, claiming it’s in your best interest. By the time you figure out what they’re up to, it’s too late,” he finished with a sigh.
“There’s nothing wrong with trusting people,” Aerial replied earnestly. “You’d have more friends if you gave people a chance.”
“I don’t need more friends,” Shawn replied. “Especially not like yours.”
“I have very good friends,” Aerial huffed.
“Yeah, why aren’t they here helping?” he inquired.
Aerial looked at him, tears welling in her eyes, before turning her back. Seeing her shoulders slump, Shawn felt like a total cad. He started to apologize, but then remembered one of her ‘friends’ was the reason they were in their current predicament, and kept his mouth shut. He shook his head, not understanding how even Aerial could let someone paint a mural on their parent’s garage.
Aerial couldn’t handle the silence any longer, so asked Shawn if she could do anything to help.
Shawn handed her a rag, “start wiping,” he said, and resumed his own scrubbing. “I think I’m almost through the first layer.”
“I’m sorry you have to do this, Shawn,” Aerial whispered. “I thought it would be a cool surprise for mom and dad. I never dreamed he’d paint naked fairies!”
“It’s ok, Sis,” Shawn sighed. “If I’d been home like I was supposed to be it never would have happened.
Aerial giggled.
“I don’t see anything funny here.” Shawn grumped.
“If you’d stayed home instead of going out with Shirley, you wouldn’t be cleaning paint of the garage door with me,” Aerial told him.
“Yeah, so?”
“Looks like you’re doing a little reacting of your own,” Aerial smiled, ducking the rag he threw at her.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Retribution
This is my contribution for the Your Photo Story prompt this week. A little micro fiction piece I hope y'all enjoy.
Rain mingled with the tears cascading from Adrian’s eyes. She couldn’t believe he was gone.
Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was around, she hissed, “I wish I’d been the one to put the bullet in your brain, you bastard,” before wiping away the tears, smiling, and heading home, safe at last.
Rain mingled with the tears cascading from Adrian’s eyes. She couldn’t believe he was gone.
Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was around, she hissed, “I wish I’d been the one to put the bullet in your brain, you bastard,” before wiping away the tears, smiling, and heading home, safe at last.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Unlikely Hero
This is my story for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week.
“Burdens are ubiquitous in this day and age,” the Red Cross representative proclaimed to the anxious crowd. “We want to thank all of you for offering your services to your fallen friends today; in light of the damages you all incurred yourselves.”
Clem looked around, studying his neighbors, what was left of them anyway. The tornado had devastated his small town overnight. Many were taken in their sleep.
Burt nudged Clancy, “Look over there,” he said, pointing at Clem. “What’s old man Gregory doing here? Like he ever cared about anybody,” he finished in disgust.
Clem felt them watching him, sneers on their faces.
“And now I’d like to take a moment to thank someone. A true hero among us.”
Everyone looked around, wondering whom the speaker was talking about. When she singled Clem Gregory out, a gasp went through the crowd.
“Mr. Gregory opened his root cellar to three of his neighbors last night. Without his generosity, all would have perished along with their homes.”
Clem smiled when applause broke out and enjoyed the rest of the speech in his honor.
After fighting his way through the crowd, who all wanted to personally thank him, Clem finally made it to his truck. He enjoyed the limelight during the speech, but didn’t cotton too well to people touching and talking to him. Next time we’re playing poker at George’s house, he grumbled to himself, pulling out of the parking lot.
If you liked this story,please check out my others on the Your Photo Story blog.
“Burdens are ubiquitous in this day and age,” the Red Cross representative proclaimed to the anxious crowd. “We want to thank all of you for offering your services to your fallen friends today; in light of the damages you all incurred yourselves.”
Clem looked around, studying his neighbors, what was left of them anyway. The tornado had devastated his small town overnight. Many were taken in their sleep.
Burt nudged Clancy, “Look over there,” he said, pointing at Clem. “What’s old man Gregory doing here? Like he ever cared about anybody,” he finished in disgust.
Clem felt them watching him, sneers on their faces.
“And now I’d like to take a moment to thank someone. A true hero among us.”
Everyone looked around, wondering whom the speaker was talking about. When she singled Clem Gregory out, a gasp went through the crowd.
“Mr. Gregory opened his root cellar to three of his neighbors last night. Without his generosity, all would have perished along with their homes.”
Clem smiled when applause broke out and enjoyed the rest of the speech in his honor.
After fighting his way through the crowd, who all wanted to personally thank him, Clem finally made it to his truck. He enjoyed the limelight during the speech, but didn’t cotton too well to people touching and talking to him. Next time we’re playing poker at George’s house, he grumbled to himself, pulling out of the parking lot.
If you liked this story,please check out my others on the Your Photo Story blog.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
The Killing Tree
This is my story for the Your Photo Story prompt this week.
Anthony smiled broadly when the ax struck the tree for the first time. Not even getting the blade hung in one of the tree’s huge knots squelched his satisfaction at cutting the monstrosity down.
Each whack of the ax killed a grizzly memory. Memories of secret meetings his father called and he was forced to attend. Memories that had left scars on his soul no therapist had been able to erase.
Anthony swung a wide arc. The thwack of the ax resounded through the woods, and reminded him of other, more haunting, sounds the woods had endured over the years.
After the last cut, while he watched the great tree fall, Anthony searched his heart for even a shred of sadness over his father’s fate. He knew the therapist thought he should be sorry the state was executing his father, but the therapist didn’t know how many people his father had ordered executed under the killing tree, white hood hiding his identity, keeping his secrets.
The souls of many heard this tree fall in the woods, he mused sadly, listening to the sigh of the breeze through the trees, before he turned and headed to the penitentiary.
Anthony smiled broadly when the ax struck the tree for the first time. Not even getting the blade hung in one of the tree’s huge knots squelched his satisfaction at cutting the monstrosity down.
Each whack of the ax killed a grizzly memory. Memories of secret meetings his father called and he was forced to attend. Memories that had left scars on his soul no therapist had been able to erase.
Anthony swung a wide arc. The thwack of the ax resounded through the woods, and reminded him of other, more haunting, sounds the woods had endured over the years.
After the last cut, while he watched the great tree fall, Anthony searched his heart for even a shred of sadness over his father’s fate. He knew the therapist thought he should be sorry the state was executing his father, but the therapist didn’t know how many people his father had ordered executed under the killing tree, white hood hiding his identity, keeping his secrets.
The souls of many heard this tree fall in the woods, he mused sadly, listening to the sigh of the breeze through the trees, before he turned and headed to the penitentiary.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tantrum
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week.
Kimberly had to cajole and fuss to get Mark into the car so they could leave for dinner with her parents. He was throwing a temper tantrum of untold proportions. She was a nervous wreck, muscles tense, holding the steering wheel in a death grip when they stopped for a light on Martin and First.
“Who lives there, Mommy,” Mark whispered, staring wide-eyed at a dilapidated house, shutters falling off, with weeds covering the lawn.
“Recluse John lives there,” Kimberly replied.
“What’s a recluse,” Mark asked.
Kimberly sighed, not wanting to start a round of twenty questions. “A recluse is someone who stays to themselves, usually because nobody else wants to be around them.”
“Why don’t people want to be around them? Are they mean or something?”
Hearing this inspiration struck. “Nobody wants to be around them because they throw temper tantrums all the time.”
“Oh,” Mark said, turning to watch the house disappear behind them.
“Mommy.”
“Yes, Mark.”
“I’m sorry I threw a tantrum.”
Kimberly hid her smile.
Kimberly had to cajole and fuss to get Mark into the car so they could leave for dinner with her parents. He was throwing a temper tantrum of untold proportions. She was a nervous wreck, muscles tense, holding the steering wheel in a death grip when they stopped for a light on Martin and First.
“Who lives there, Mommy,” Mark whispered, staring wide-eyed at a dilapidated house, shutters falling off, with weeds covering the lawn.
“Recluse John lives there,” Kimberly replied.
“What’s a recluse,” Mark asked.
Kimberly sighed, not wanting to start a round of twenty questions. “A recluse is someone who stays to themselves, usually because nobody else wants to be around them.”
“Why don’t people want to be around them? Are they mean or something?”
Hearing this inspiration struck. “Nobody wants to be around them because they throw temper tantrums all the time.”
“Oh,” Mark said, turning to watch the house disappear behind them.
“Mommy.”
“Yes, Mark.”
“I’m sorry I threw a tantrum.”
Kimberly hid her smile.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The Path
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt. I made the photo prompt site with hopes other writers will join the fun and make a story off the picture of the week.
Sharon saw the path up ahead. Being unfamiliar with these woods, she had no idea where it led. She did however know where, and to whom, the path behind her led.
One painful step at a time, she trekked through the woods. Her leg was throbbing, the knife wound seeping through the makeshift bandage she had made out of a torn piece of shirt. She checked the path to make sure no signs of blood were marking her direction. Seeing none, she continued.
Behind her, watching from atop an oak tree, the killer smiled. He had climbed the tree to get a better vantage point after spotting the drag marks left on the path from the woman favoring her injured leg. Now he knew exactly where his victim was heading.
Letting the woman get farther ahead, the killer then climbed down from the tree. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a small two-way radio.
“Dad,” he said, pressing the talk button.
“Come in,” a voice replied.
“She’s on the way,” the killer offered. “Make her comfortable until I get there.”
Sharon saw the path up ahead. Being unfamiliar with these woods, she had no idea where it led. She did however know where, and to whom, the path behind her led.
One painful step at a time, she trekked through the woods. Her leg was throbbing, the knife wound seeping through the makeshift bandage she had made out of a torn piece of shirt. She checked the path to make sure no signs of blood were marking her direction. Seeing none, she continued.
Behind her, watching from atop an oak tree, the killer smiled. He had climbed the tree to get a better vantage point after spotting the drag marks left on the path from the woman favoring her injured leg. Now he knew exactly where his victim was heading.
Letting the woman get farther ahead, the killer then climbed down from the tree. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a small two-way radio.
“Dad,” he said, pressing the talk button.
“Come in,” a voice replied.
“She’s on the way,” the killer offered. “Make her comfortable until I get there.”
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Old Timer
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Hope you enjoy it!
Marcus listened in fascination as the man rambled on, astounded at the old timer’s genuine ability in storytelling.
“And that’s when Bubba grabbed his shotgun and yelled, ‘You ain’t takin’ her back, Harold,’ before shooting him deader than a doornail right there on the courthouse steps,” the old timer said, finishing his tale.
I’m going to have to do something to avenge the English language before printing this, Marcus mused, shaking the man’s hand and thanking him for his time, before heading to the office to beat the morning edition deadline.
Marcus listened in fascination as the man rambled on, astounded at the old timer’s genuine ability in storytelling.
“And that’s when Bubba grabbed his shotgun and yelled, ‘You ain’t takin’ her back, Harold,’ before shooting him deader than a doornail right there on the courthouse steps,” the old timer said, finishing his tale.
I’m going to have to do something to avenge the English language before printing this, Marcus mused, shaking the man’s hand and thanking him for his time, before heading to the office to beat the morning edition deadline.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Dead Silent
Silence shrouded the woods. Mist covered the forest floor, making each step an act of courage. Sheila knew one wrong move could lead to disaster. Unfortunately, she had to keep moving. Stopping would mean certain death, whereas moving left the option open.
Quietly emerging from behind the giant oak, she crept forward, one cautious step at a time. The sweat dripping into her eyes burned, nearly blinding her. Pausing to wipe her forehead, she sensed movement to her left. Panicked, she started running.
Her frantic dash ended when she tripped, smashing head first into a tree. Her last thought before passing out was she should have listened to her mother when she warned of picking up strangers.
***
Carl picked the fallen girl up, carrying her easily through the forest. She was very small, just the way he liked them. He’d been watching her all evening. There were many women at the party, but she stood out from all the rest. Her carrot red hair shone in the light, a beacon he couldn’t resist.
Laying her gently onto the cave floor, he ventured back into the forest. He had things to do before he could begin enjoying her. Everything had to be perfect. She deserved the best.
***
Sheila awoke, every limb shivering, with a pool of water under her cheek. Have I been drooling? She wondered, pushing herself upright. With tingles shooting from every nerve, she stood. Grabbing the cave wall for support, her head spinning, she looked around. How did I get here?
A faint light for her guide, she made her way to the mouth of the cave. Darkness cloaked the forest in a coat of black. “What am I going to do now,” she groaned to the darkness. “I’ll never find the road.”
Buck up, girl, she could hear her mom admonishing. You can do anything you put your mind to.
Gathering her courage, she pushed into the darkness. “Thanks, Mom,” she murmured.
***
Whistling, Carl made quick work of his task. He was in a hurry to return to the cave. Thinking about the girl lying there, hair spread out around her creamy face, was making it hard for him to concentrate. Shaking himself, he set about finishing.
He entered the cave quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she were still sleeping. Noticing she was missing, he dropped the firewood he had collected. He knew she couldn’t have gone far. The knot on her head was fresh. It would make moving painful. Cursing under his breath, he set out to find her once again.
***
Sheila was exhausted. Her head felt like it was going to split in two, her feet were swollen, but her worst problem was being lost. She knew the highway had to be close, but she couldn’t find it. Should have listened more when maps were taught in school, she thought, then maybe I’d know what to look for.
She’d lost track of the times she’d fallen down. Her knees were sore from the abuse. Pushing ahead was becoming harder with every passing moment. The only thing keeping her going was the knowledge he was out there. I don’t think he’s the giving up kind, she thought. Maybe that’s because the last thing you heard him yell was that he’d find you no matter what, she reminded herself.
“Why did he pick me, Lord?” she beseeched. “What did I do to deserve this?”
When no answer was forthcoming, she trudged on. The forest was even denser in this part. She could no longer see her hand in front of her face. It was early fall, so she didn’t think she’d freeze to death even though it was cold. Her biggest worry by far was the lunatic chasing her.
“What was that?” she asked the night, stopping dead still. “Cars! I hear cars!” she cried.
In her excitement, she didn’t hear Carl creep up behind her. Winded from his frantic run through the woods, Carl was quietly trying to catch his breath. Seeing the girl sprint into the distance, he cursed, “Shit,” then took off after her.
***
A car rounded the curve. Sheila was waving her arms trying to get the drivers attention when she felt a presence behind her. Turning, she saw Carl towering there. The look on his face terrified her into stillness, giving him the last advantage he needed.
Sheila snapped out of her stupor as Carl swung the limb above his head. Her scream reverberated through the forest, then silence filled the night once more.
Quietly emerging from behind the giant oak, she crept forward, one cautious step at a time. The sweat dripping into her eyes burned, nearly blinding her. Pausing to wipe her forehead, she sensed movement to her left. Panicked, she started running.
Her frantic dash ended when she tripped, smashing head first into a tree. Her last thought before passing out was she should have listened to her mother when she warned of picking up strangers.
***
Carl picked the fallen girl up, carrying her easily through the forest. She was very small, just the way he liked them. He’d been watching her all evening. There were many women at the party, but she stood out from all the rest. Her carrot red hair shone in the light, a beacon he couldn’t resist.
Laying her gently onto the cave floor, he ventured back into the forest. He had things to do before he could begin enjoying her. Everything had to be perfect. She deserved the best.
***
Sheila awoke, every limb shivering, with a pool of water under her cheek. Have I been drooling? She wondered, pushing herself upright. With tingles shooting from every nerve, she stood. Grabbing the cave wall for support, her head spinning, she looked around. How did I get here?
A faint light for her guide, she made her way to the mouth of the cave. Darkness cloaked the forest in a coat of black. “What am I going to do now,” she groaned to the darkness. “I’ll never find the road.”
Buck up, girl, she could hear her mom admonishing. You can do anything you put your mind to.
Gathering her courage, she pushed into the darkness. “Thanks, Mom,” she murmured.
***
Whistling, Carl made quick work of his task. He was in a hurry to return to the cave. Thinking about the girl lying there, hair spread out around her creamy face, was making it hard for him to concentrate. Shaking himself, he set about finishing.
He entered the cave quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she were still sleeping. Noticing she was missing, he dropped the firewood he had collected. He knew she couldn’t have gone far. The knot on her head was fresh. It would make moving painful. Cursing under his breath, he set out to find her once again.
***
Sheila was exhausted. Her head felt like it was going to split in two, her feet were swollen, but her worst problem was being lost. She knew the highway had to be close, but she couldn’t find it. Should have listened more when maps were taught in school, she thought, then maybe I’d know what to look for.
She’d lost track of the times she’d fallen down. Her knees were sore from the abuse. Pushing ahead was becoming harder with every passing moment. The only thing keeping her going was the knowledge he was out there. I don’t think he’s the giving up kind, she thought. Maybe that’s because the last thing you heard him yell was that he’d find you no matter what, she reminded herself.
“Why did he pick me, Lord?” she beseeched. “What did I do to deserve this?”
When no answer was forthcoming, she trudged on. The forest was even denser in this part. She could no longer see her hand in front of her face. It was early fall, so she didn’t think she’d freeze to death even though it was cold. Her biggest worry by far was the lunatic chasing her.
“What was that?” she asked the night, stopping dead still. “Cars! I hear cars!” she cried.
In her excitement, she didn’t hear Carl creep up behind her. Winded from his frantic run through the woods, Carl was quietly trying to catch his breath. Seeing the girl sprint into the distance, he cursed, “Shit,” then took off after her.
***
A car rounded the curve. Sheila was waving her arms trying to get the drivers attention when she felt a presence behind her. Turning, she saw Carl towering there. The look on his face terrified her into stillness, giving him the last advantage he needed.
Sheila snapped out of her stupor as Carl swung the limb above his head. Her scream reverberated through the forest, then silence filled the night once more.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Author Website
I would really appreciate if all of you would check out my new author website. Bookmark the site to keep abreast of important events in my writing career. I hope there will be a lot to report!
I am excited about the upcoming anthology in which two of my poems will be featured. Once the book is released, a link will be provided on the author website. The anthology is going to be sold in bookstores such as Amazon.com, Barnes and Nobel.com, and others.
Please let me know what you think of the author website. All suggestions are welcomed. I want to make it look professional, but keep “me” in it. Thanks to everyone who checks it out! Don't forget to sign the guest book.
Angel Sharum's Author Website
I am excited about the upcoming anthology in which two of my poems will be featured. Once the book is released, a link will be provided on the author website. The anthology is going to be sold in bookstores such as Amazon.com, Barnes and Nobel.com, and others.
Please let me know what you think of the author website. All suggestions are welcomed. I want to make it look professional, but keep “me” in it. Thanks to everyone who checks it out! Don't forget to sign the guest book.
Angel Sharum's Author Website
Friday, February 20, 2009
Pricision
“Hello, beautiful,” the man said as he walked into the room and turned the overhead light on.
“Go to hell!” Elizabeth spat as she pulled against the ropes binding her to the bed. She had been in total darkness for so long she thought she’d lose her mind, wishing someone would turn the light on. She wanted it back off now. What she saw literally stopped her heart.
“That’s not any way for a lady to talk,” he replied with a sneer.
The look made the scar stretch even more on his cheek. Elizabeth looked away with revulsion. The man saw her and smiled. Anything to add to their discomfort just made it all the more fun for him.
“If you aren’t going to act like a lady, I guess I don’t need to treat you like one, do I?” her captor said with a shake of his head as he turned to the table in the corner.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth demanded. “No! Stay away!” She cried when the man picked up a butcher knife and walked slowly across the floor towards where she lay, captive and terrified.
***
The hospital was abuzz with the news of the latest of the ‘Barry County Butcher’s’ victims. The newspaper was saying the latest murder was the most gruesome of all. The victim, Elizabeth Connelly, was only twenty-seven years old. Her parents were devastated and police were no closer to catching the Butcher than before.
“How can there be no evidence?” the head nurse whispered to the orderly.
“It seems the killer knows what he’s doing. No finger prints, no semen, nothing for the cops to go on is ever left behind. He even washes the bodies before he burns them! He’s leaving nothing to chance,” replied the orderly with a shiver as he thought about the way the women died.
“He’ll slip up one day. Let’s just hope it’s before another woman dies,” said another nurse.
“I don’t know. The sheriff’s department is saying they’ve never saw anything like it. I’ve heard rumors they think it might even be a cop because of the lack of evidence,” the orderly offered.
“I haven’t heard that. Who told you they think it might be a cop?” the head nurse asked.
“Bob over in pathology. You know we’ve got every one of the bodies here for autopsy, right?” the orderly answered.
“Yes, I was aware of that. All the killings happened within ten miles of the hospital. Doesn’t exactly make me feel safe leaving here after dark, but what can I do about it?” The nurse shook her head. “I heard the hospital has performed more autopsies in the last three months than the rest of the year combined,” she informed the others.
“I hope it’s not a cop. You like to think you can trust the cops to protect you,” the other nurse said with a sigh.
“I wouldn’t trust a cop as far as I could throw him,” replied the orderly. He’d had some run-ins with the local cops in his younger days.
“It makes sense if you think about it,” he continued. “Who would know better than a cop how to destroy evidence and make it to where he’s never caught?”
“What do you think, Dr. Monroe? You think one of Barry County’s finest is the Butcher?” the orderly asked the only person standing at the nurses’ station yet to offer an opinion.
“Could be, Jackson. You never know what goes on in someone’s mind. It could even be someone here in the hospital,” he said with a frown.
The nurses all looked down. They respected Dr. Monroe, but it was hard to look at him. That scar put everyone off.
“Go to hell!” Elizabeth spat as she pulled against the ropes binding her to the bed. She had been in total darkness for so long she thought she’d lose her mind, wishing someone would turn the light on. She wanted it back off now. What she saw literally stopped her heart.
“That’s not any way for a lady to talk,” he replied with a sneer.
The look made the scar stretch even more on his cheek. Elizabeth looked away with revulsion. The man saw her and smiled. Anything to add to their discomfort just made it all the more fun for him.
“If you aren’t going to act like a lady, I guess I don’t need to treat you like one, do I?” her captor said with a shake of his head as he turned to the table in the corner.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth demanded. “No! Stay away!” She cried when the man picked up a butcher knife and walked slowly across the floor towards where she lay, captive and terrified.
***
The hospital was abuzz with the news of the latest of the ‘Barry County Butcher’s’ victims. The newspaper was saying the latest murder was the most gruesome of all. The victim, Elizabeth Connelly, was only twenty-seven years old. Her parents were devastated and police were no closer to catching the Butcher than before.
“How can there be no evidence?” the head nurse whispered to the orderly.
“It seems the killer knows what he’s doing. No finger prints, no semen, nothing for the cops to go on is ever left behind. He even washes the bodies before he burns them! He’s leaving nothing to chance,” replied the orderly with a shiver as he thought about the way the women died.
“He’ll slip up one day. Let’s just hope it’s before another woman dies,” said another nurse.
“I don’t know. The sheriff’s department is saying they’ve never saw anything like it. I’ve heard rumors they think it might even be a cop because of the lack of evidence,” the orderly offered.
“I haven’t heard that. Who told you they think it might be a cop?” the head nurse asked.
“Bob over in pathology. You know we’ve got every one of the bodies here for autopsy, right?” the orderly answered.
“Yes, I was aware of that. All the killings happened within ten miles of the hospital. Doesn’t exactly make me feel safe leaving here after dark, but what can I do about it?” The nurse shook her head. “I heard the hospital has performed more autopsies in the last three months than the rest of the year combined,” she informed the others.
“I hope it’s not a cop. You like to think you can trust the cops to protect you,” the other nurse said with a sigh.
“I wouldn’t trust a cop as far as I could throw him,” replied the orderly. He’d had some run-ins with the local cops in his younger days.
“It makes sense if you think about it,” he continued. “Who would know better than a cop how to destroy evidence and make it to where he’s never caught?”
“What do you think, Dr. Monroe? You think one of Barry County’s finest is the Butcher?” the orderly asked the only person standing at the nurses’ station yet to offer an opinion.
“Could be, Jackson. You never know what goes on in someone’s mind. It could even be someone here in the hospital,” he said with a frown.
The nurses all looked down. They respected Dr. Monroe, but it was hard to look at him. That scar put everyone off.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Cow Patty Prank
“Hey, Elbert, watch this.” Dale whispered.
“What did you do this time?” Elbert inquired.
“Shhh, he’ll hear us.” Dale admonished.
Thomas was in a good mood. He was whistling when he walked into the barn. Until he stepped in the big glop of cow manure.
“Damnit!” he muttered, hopping on one foot toward the grass to clean his boot.
“Wait a minute,” he said, looking at the cows in the paddock behind the latched gate. “How the hell?” he continued, after cleaning his boot and walking over to make sure the latch was still secure.
He only had two cows in the small paddock. Since it wasn’t very big, he decided to check the fence for problems. After walking around the entire thing, and finding no breaks in the fence, he headed back into the barn, mumbling, “I just don’t get it. It’s not like the cows grew arms and opened the latch.”
“Actually I did,” Dale stated.
Thomas poked his head out the barn door. Great, now I’m hearing things too, he thought, after assuring himself that no one was there.
With a shrug, he turned back inside. Once he had the tool he’d came for, he made his way back to the house.
Dale was laughing so hard, milk was squirting from his utters. Elbert jumped when some hit him on the leg.
“Hey, watch it,” he snapped.
“Sorry, man, but that was great.”
“He’s going to figure it out one day and you’ll be sorry,” Elbert admonished.
“Nah, they never figure anything out,” Dale replied with a smirk. “They’re still trying to find the people of Roanoke.”
“What did you do this time?” Elbert inquired.
“Shhh, he’ll hear us.” Dale admonished.
Thomas was in a good mood. He was whistling when he walked into the barn. Until he stepped in the big glop of cow manure.
“Damnit!” he muttered, hopping on one foot toward the grass to clean his boot.
“Wait a minute,” he said, looking at the cows in the paddock behind the latched gate. “How the hell?” he continued, after cleaning his boot and walking over to make sure the latch was still secure.
He only had two cows in the small paddock. Since it wasn’t very big, he decided to check the fence for problems. After walking around the entire thing, and finding no breaks in the fence, he headed back into the barn, mumbling, “I just don’t get it. It’s not like the cows grew arms and opened the latch.”
“Actually I did,” Dale stated.
Thomas poked his head out the barn door. Great, now I’m hearing things too, he thought, after assuring himself that no one was there.
With a shrug, he turned back inside. Once he had the tool he’d came for, he made his way back to the house.
Dale was laughing so hard, milk was squirting from his utters. Elbert jumped when some hit him on the leg.
“Hey, watch it,” he snapped.
“Sorry, man, but that was great.”
“He’s going to figure it out one day and you’ll be sorry,” Elbert admonished.
“Nah, they never figure anything out,” Dale replied with a smirk. “They’re still trying to find the people of Roanoke.”
Monday, February 9, 2009
The Other Woman
Sally watched Jason kiss the “other woman.” She felt the hatred well up. Her stomach was rolling, the sight made her so sick. How can he touch the whore with the same hands he caressed me with this morning, she wondered.
“You had to bring her to our favorite restaurant, you rat bastard,” she whispered under her breath. “Never worrying one of our friends might walk in.”
When the woman laughed it made Sally seethe. Her hand clinched so tightly the metal bit into her skin. When their hands laced across the table, she moved forward.
The look on the woman’s face was enough to convince Sally she knew Jason was married. Her shocked, “Oh my God, your wife!” only cemented her fate.
Arriving at the table, Sally calmly removed the gun from her pocket, shot the woman, then turned to Jason who was sitting in stunned silence. “At least you only lied to one of us,” she proclaimed before shooting him in the crotch. “If you live, I doubt you will have to worry about cheating on another woman,” she continued before raising the gun to her own head then pulling the trigger.
“You had to bring her to our favorite restaurant, you rat bastard,” she whispered under her breath. “Never worrying one of our friends might walk in.”
When the woman laughed it made Sally seethe. Her hand clinched so tightly the metal bit into her skin. When their hands laced across the table, she moved forward.
The look on the woman’s face was enough to convince Sally she knew Jason was married. Her shocked, “Oh my God, your wife!” only cemented her fate.
Arriving at the table, Sally calmly removed the gun from her pocket, shot the woman, then turned to Jason who was sitting in stunned silence. “At least you only lied to one of us,” she proclaimed before shooting him in the crotch. “If you live, I doubt you will have to worry about cheating on another woman,” she continued before raising the gun to her own head then pulling the trigger.
Monday, January 26, 2009
A Game of Cat and Mouse
Silently sneaking ever closer, Ebony kept his prey in sight. The muscles rippled underneath his shiny black coat with every step nearer his intended target. With ears laid back and eyes focused, he watched the unsuspecting mouse scurry back and forth under the rickety old porch.
Stopping suddenly, hackles raised, he stood motionless while a strong breeze ruffled his coat. Once the offending presence had subsided, he targeted in on his prey again and continued the quest.
Ebony watched the mouse grab a piece of cat food and quickly scamper beneath the porch. Tail twitching, back arched, he waited for the perfect time to pounce.
The next time the mouse emerged from under the porch, Ebony shot forward. The mouse quickly darted to the right, climbing a piece of wood that was propped against the deck of structure. Before Ebony knew what was happening, the other end of the board snapped up, hitting him under the chin.
Ebony lay in the dirt, dazed. He saw the mouse watching from the porch, nose twitching, little hands holding a piece of cat food up in triumph.
Stopping suddenly, hackles raised, he stood motionless while a strong breeze ruffled his coat. Once the offending presence had subsided, he targeted in on his prey again and continued the quest.
Ebony watched the mouse grab a piece of cat food and quickly scamper beneath the porch. Tail twitching, back arched, he waited for the perfect time to pounce.
The next time the mouse emerged from under the porch, Ebony shot forward. The mouse quickly darted to the right, climbing a piece of wood that was propped against the deck of structure. Before Ebony knew what was happening, the other end of the board snapped up, hitting him under the chin.
Ebony lay in the dirt, dazed. He saw the mouse watching from the porch, nose twitching, little hands holding a piece of cat food up in triumph.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Road
This is my contribution to the Weekend Wordsmith prompt. It's short and sweet this time!
It stretched before him. The end nowhere in sight. Smooth, straight freedom his for the taking. All he had to do was make the first step. Set his feet in motion. Take the chance on a new life down the road.
With one backward glance, he took the first step toward his future. The past but a shadow, a shrouded eulogy of the life he wished to forget. With a new sense of optimism, he whistled, walking into the night, knowing the best was yet to come.
It stretched before him. The end nowhere in sight. Smooth, straight freedom his for the taking. All he had to do was make the first step. Set his feet in motion. Take the chance on a new life down the road.
With one backward glance, he took the first step toward his future. The past but a shadow, a shrouded eulogy of the life he wished to forget. With a new sense of optimism, he whistled, walking into the night, knowing the best was yet to come.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Loving Deception
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. Hope you enjoy it!
Vincent sat silently in the corner, observing the other patrons. He fought rising panic, keeping his mind focused on the objective. Total dedication was required to bring this scheme to fruition.
He remembered stammering when April asked why they were going to this particular restaurant, since he usually balked at the prices and glitz of the place. He couldn’t remember the reason he came up with, although he knows it must have been weak because she’d been casting suspicious glances his way since sitting down. He would be glad when the deception was over. He’d never been good at subterfuge.
He watched Armand cross the crowed restaurant, stopping to address guests here and there along the way. The closer Armand got to his table, the more nervous Vincent became. To hide this fact, he quickly began eating.
Thankfully, April was enjoying the harpist playing in the vestibule, completely unaware of Vincent’s agitation. When Armand slid to a stop at their table, April smiled, looking questioningly at Vincent.
Armand set a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the table, then placed a piece of chocolate cake in front of April, before retreating.
Vincent heard April gasp when she noticed the ring resting in a rose petal that was atop the cake. He quickly dropped to one knee, took her hand and pledged everlasting love if she would be his bride.
Vincent sat silently in the corner, observing the other patrons. He fought rising panic, keeping his mind focused on the objective. Total dedication was required to bring this scheme to fruition.
He remembered stammering when April asked why they were going to this particular restaurant, since he usually balked at the prices and glitz of the place. He couldn’t remember the reason he came up with, although he knows it must have been weak because she’d been casting suspicious glances his way since sitting down. He would be glad when the deception was over. He’d never been good at subterfuge.
He watched Armand cross the crowed restaurant, stopping to address guests here and there along the way. The closer Armand got to his table, the more nervous Vincent became. To hide this fact, he quickly began eating.
Thankfully, April was enjoying the harpist playing in the vestibule, completely unaware of Vincent’s agitation. When Armand slid to a stop at their table, April smiled, looking questioningly at Vincent.
Armand set a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the table, then placed a piece of chocolate cake in front of April, before retreating.
Vincent heard April gasp when she noticed the ring resting in a rose petal that was atop the cake. He quickly dropped to one knee, took her hand and pledged everlasting love if she would be his bride.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Passionate Mistake
My contribution for the Three Word Wednesday Prompt.
I only wish I had listened when my mother warned me about Bobby, Sandra thought. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess!
But he was so sexy and dangerous that she let her emotions lead her. She remembers how her heart would pound whenever he came near. Just the sight of him was enough to make her melt. He exuded passion and she wasn’t strong enough to resist.
“Sandra, get your ass in here,” he bellowed from the living room.
Sighing, she went to see what he wanted. The sight that greeted her made her stomach turn. Pizza boxes and empty beer cans littered the tables and floor, stains were apparent on every surface, and the man himself was wearing only a dirty pair of boxer shorts.
He scratched, and then commanded, “Bring me another beer and a sandwich. I don’t know what’s taking you so long in there.”
Sandra scrunched her nose in disgust, replying, “I’m cleaning the kitchen. Thankfully, you don’t spend much time in there so the damage isn’t too bad. It will take a decontamination team to clean this room!” she finished, flinging her arms to encompass the immediate area.
“A decomwhat?” he muttered.
“Nevermind,” she said, turning back to the kitchen.
She often wondered what happened to the stud she married. Not even a glimmer of him existed any longer. He was now a hulking brute.
I wonder how many I told you so’s I’d have to endure if I went home, she mused, spreading mayonnaise on a piece of bread.
I only wish I had listened when my mother warned me about Bobby, Sandra thought. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess!
But he was so sexy and dangerous that she let her emotions lead her. She remembers how her heart would pound whenever he came near. Just the sight of him was enough to make her melt. He exuded passion and she wasn’t strong enough to resist.
“Sandra, get your ass in here,” he bellowed from the living room.
Sighing, she went to see what he wanted. The sight that greeted her made her stomach turn. Pizza boxes and empty beer cans littered the tables and floor, stains were apparent on every surface, and the man himself was wearing only a dirty pair of boxer shorts.
He scratched, and then commanded, “Bring me another beer and a sandwich. I don’t know what’s taking you so long in there.”
Sandra scrunched her nose in disgust, replying, “I’m cleaning the kitchen. Thankfully, you don’t spend much time in there so the damage isn’t too bad. It will take a decontamination team to clean this room!” she finished, flinging her arms to encompass the immediate area.
“A decomwhat?” he muttered.
“Nevermind,” she said, turning back to the kitchen.
She often wondered what happened to the stud she married. Not even a glimmer of him existed any longer. He was now a hulking brute.
I wonder how many I told you so’s I’d have to endure if I went home, she mused, spreading mayonnaise on a piece of bread.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Achieving Your Goals
Here's my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. It's different than what I've been putting up, but I hope someone likes it!
Faith whispered, “It’s a miracle,” looking at the number on the scale in awe.
Faith whispered, “It’s a miracle,” looking at the number on the scale in awe.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Dawn Break
Dawn slipped over the horizon. An orange hue colored the meadow, bringing new life to the wild flowers riotously growing there. Beth loved watching the sunrise over Lower Meadow. It was the literal bright spot of her day. Her way of making the drudgery easier to deal with.
Sighing, she continued on her way to Hearst House. She would have to hurry. Mrs. Atchison would skin her hide if she were late again. “Punctuality is a virtue, young lady.” Mrs. Atchison pronounced the last time she was late. Right before handing her a toothbrush, instructing her to clean the bathroom from top to bottom.
I will be out of this life soon, Beth thought. Cornelius promised it would be any day now.
Upon entering the side door, she heard Mrs. Atchison talking with someone. Recognizing Cornelius’s voice, she rushed forward. His next words stopped her in her tracks, however.
“The wedding will be on Saturday, June first. You are to send the invitations no later than next Monday. We want everything to be perfect. Alicia is finally home from London, ready to go ahead. I have assured her all is well. She is secure in my devotion,” he emphasized. “There will be no reason for her to postpone this time. No reasons! Do I make myself clear, Mrs. Atchison?”
“Yes, Sir, I understand perfectly.”
“Very good then, I leave it in your capable hands.”
Beth could not believe what she had just heard. Cornelius was getting married. To Alicia, no less. The woman he swore he wanted nothing more to do with. “You are the only one for me, Bethy, you know that. Alicia is in the past. She was too complicated, always wanting more. I need a girl like you, one who knows her worth without all the trappings,” he had told her on one of their early encounters.
Right before I tumbled on the bed with him, she groaned to herself.
“Oh, there you are,” Mrs. Atchison said, nearly running into Beth when she rounded the corner.
“You need to return home to pack,” she said, looking away uncomfortably.
“Pack? Why do I need to pack?”
“You are going to Cromwell House in Wales.”
“But why? Why am I being sent away? I do not understand,” Beth implored.
Shaking her head sadly, Mrs. Atchison replied, “I know, child, I know.”
***
I guess he kept his promise, Beth thought, watching Hearst House slowly recede as the carriage carried her to her new destination.
Sighing, she continued on her way to Hearst House. She would have to hurry. Mrs. Atchison would skin her hide if she were late again. “Punctuality is a virtue, young lady.” Mrs. Atchison pronounced the last time she was late. Right before handing her a toothbrush, instructing her to clean the bathroom from top to bottom.
I will be out of this life soon, Beth thought. Cornelius promised it would be any day now.
Upon entering the side door, she heard Mrs. Atchison talking with someone. Recognizing Cornelius’s voice, she rushed forward. His next words stopped her in her tracks, however.
“The wedding will be on Saturday, June first. You are to send the invitations no later than next Monday. We want everything to be perfect. Alicia is finally home from London, ready to go ahead. I have assured her all is well. She is secure in my devotion,” he emphasized. “There will be no reason for her to postpone this time. No reasons! Do I make myself clear, Mrs. Atchison?”
“Yes, Sir, I understand perfectly.”
“Very good then, I leave it in your capable hands.”
Beth could not believe what she had just heard. Cornelius was getting married. To Alicia, no less. The woman he swore he wanted nothing more to do with. “You are the only one for me, Bethy, you know that. Alicia is in the past. She was too complicated, always wanting more. I need a girl like you, one who knows her worth without all the trappings,” he had told her on one of their early encounters.
Right before I tumbled on the bed with him, she groaned to herself.
“Oh, there you are,” Mrs. Atchison said, nearly running into Beth when she rounded the corner.
“You need to return home to pack,” she said, looking away uncomfortably.
“Pack? Why do I need to pack?”
“You are going to Cromwell House in Wales.”
“But why? Why am I being sent away? I do not understand,” Beth implored.
Shaking her head sadly, Mrs. Atchison replied, “I know, child, I know.”
***
I guess he kept his promise, Beth thought, watching Hearst House slowly recede as the carriage carried her to her new destination.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Cafepress Store
I have listed a few items on my cafepress store that have to do with writing and being published. Don’t know if any of you have a cafepress store, but they are pretty cool. It is free to open the basic shop, and it’s another way to showcase your creativity. I do wish I had a better image program, but even with limited capabilities, I have made a few sales on my products.
If you’d like to check my items out, click here. Everything on that page is mine. Let me know if you like the designs and little writing blurbs!
If you’d like to check my items out, click here. Everything on that page is mine. Let me know if you like the designs and little writing blurbs!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Poetry Contest Winner!
Two of my poems were picked. They will be published in an anthology in February of 2009. The anthology is going to be available from real bookstores like Amazon!
I still can’t believe it’s real! I entered three poems, and they picked two. That’s pretty good! I also won $20.00!
The poems will be between the sections of short stories in the anthology. I get my own copy of the book for winning which is even cooler!
When the link for the book is up, I will put it here on the blog so you can all check it out!
I am so excited!
I still can’t believe it’s real! I entered three poems, and they picked two. That’s pretty good! I also won $20.00!
The poems will be between the sections of short stories in the anthology. I get my own copy of the book for winning which is even cooler!
When the link for the book is up, I will put it here on the blog so you can all check it out!
I am so excited!
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
Leaves
This is my contribution to the Weekend Wordsmith prompt. Hope you like it!
“Damn things keep multiplying!” Roger swore.
Picking up the rake, he started back to work. His back was killing him and he had calluses on his hands. The torture had started early that morning when he opened the door and saw that the front yard was covered. I need to do something about this, he thought, before stepping back inside to read the paper.
Putting it off as long as possible, he sighed before putting the paper aside and getting into his work clothes. The next obstacle was finding the rake because he couldn’t remember exactly where he’d put it. He hit his head on a shelf, stubbed his toe on the grill, and banged his elbow on the work table, before finding the rake sitting pretty as you please in the corner.
That was three hours ago. What he thought would be a quick job was turning into an all day affair. His wife and kids would be home soon. They were all going to watch a movie after dinner. If he weren’t done, he’d never hear the end of it.
Pushing the last stack onto the pile, he heard the car roll into the driveway. Just in time, he thought, heading to the garage to put the rake up. I’ll burn them in the morning.
He heard the squeals before he saw them. “No!” he screamed, but it was too late. He watched as the jubilant children jumped in, threw, and wrecked total carnage on his lovely pile of leaves.
“Damn things keep multiplying!” Roger swore.
Picking up the rake, he started back to work. His back was killing him and he had calluses on his hands. The torture had started early that morning when he opened the door and saw that the front yard was covered. I need to do something about this, he thought, before stepping back inside to read the paper.
Putting it off as long as possible, he sighed before putting the paper aside and getting into his work clothes. The next obstacle was finding the rake because he couldn’t remember exactly where he’d put it. He hit his head on a shelf, stubbed his toe on the grill, and banged his elbow on the work table, before finding the rake sitting pretty as you please in the corner.
That was three hours ago. What he thought would be a quick job was turning into an all day affair. His wife and kids would be home soon. They were all going to watch a movie after dinner. If he weren’t done, he’d never hear the end of it.
Pushing the last stack onto the pile, he heard the car roll into the driveway. Just in time, he thought, heading to the garage to put the rake up. I’ll burn them in the morning.
He heard the squeals before he saw them. “No!” he screamed, but it was too late. He watched as the jubilant children jumped in, threw, and wrecked total carnage on his lovely pile of leaves.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Time
This is my contribution to the 100 wood meme, on Velvet Verbosity.
I never really thought about it. I always had more than enough. It was my friend. I’d heard people talk about it slipping away, and them never having fully enjoyed it. I thought they were overemotional, that surely they hadn’t missed all they implied. I know differently now.
There are so many things I wish I’d done, things that are lost to me now. So many people I’d love to have one more conversation with. Things I’d love to pass along to help others understand so that they wouldn’t find themselves in my place. If I only had the time…
I never really thought about it. I always had more than enough. It was my friend. I’d heard people talk about it slipping away, and them never having fully enjoyed it. I thought they were overemotional, that surely they hadn’t missed all they implied. I know differently now.
There are so many things I wish I’d done, things that are lost to me now. So many people I’d love to have one more conversation with. Things I’d love to pass along to help others understand so that they wouldn’t find themselves in my place. If I only had the time…
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Paying for Mistakes
This is my contribution to the Weekend Wordsmith prompt. The word was float.
How did I get here? How did things get this out of hand? I thought I had it all worked out. Thought I could handle anything, fix all the mistakes. I didn’t fix anything. I only made it worse.
Mom always said I was cocky. She warned that it would get me in trouble one day. I guess that day’s came. Mom will know soon enough that she was right. Wonder if it’ll give her satisfaction?
They were thorough, I’ll give ‘em that much. No way in hell I can get out of these ropes. Not that it would matter.
I hope it’s over with quick. I’ve heard drowning is an awful way to go. Nothing more than I deserve though.
The water is freezing. Maybe I’ll freeze to death before I drown. No, I don’t guess that’s going to happen. After all, anchors don’t float.
How did I get here? How did things get this out of hand? I thought I had it all worked out. Thought I could handle anything, fix all the mistakes. I didn’t fix anything. I only made it worse.
Mom always said I was cocky. She warned that it would get me in trouble one day. I guess that day’s came. Mom will know soon enough that she was right. Wonder if it’ll give her satisfaction?
They were thorough, I’ll give ‘em that much. No way in hell I can get out of these ropes. Not that it would matter.
I hope it’s over with quick. I’ve heard drowning is an awful way to go. Nothing more than I deserve though.
The water is freezing. Maybe I’ll freeze to death before I drown. No, I don’t guess that’s going to happen. After all, anchors don’t float.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Combination
This is my contribution to the Simply Snickers poetry prompt for the week.
A balance struck
A tightrope walked
Being bold a stroke of luck
Being bright self-taught
A balance struck
A tightrope walked
Being bold a stroke of luck
Being bright self-taught
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Love Again
This is my entry for Velvet Verbosity this week. Hope you like it.
Love resurrected and feelings are true again
Time healed wounds, and hearts on the mend
A second chance in true loves embrace
Emotions dance in delight
Of the past there is no trace
Hope overflows and abounds
Tenderness and joy grow
Soft touches leave faces aglow
The tried and true remembered
The new eagerly sought
Replacing the old with freshness
Hard fought
A chance to fix old mistakes
And make new treasures
To make life happier
And better together
Patience and grace
Help rekindle the flame
Of a love that faded too quickly
And the death that came
Love resurrected and feelings are true again
Time healed wounds, and hearts on the mend
A second chance in true loves embrace
Emotions dance in delight
Of the past there is no trace
Hope overflows and abounds
Tenderness and joy grow
Soft touches leave faces aglow
The tried and true remembered
The new eagerly sought
Replacing the old with freshness
Hard fought
A chance to fix old mistakes
And make new treasures
To make life happier
And better together
Patience and grace
Help rekindle the flame
Of a love that faded too quickly
And the death that came
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Second Chances
This is my second contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. I hope they don’t mind that I did two!
Hope’s shoulders slumped as the gravity of the doctor’s statement sunk in. This morning the only thing she was worried about was getting to work on time. Now she had to worry about living to work another month.
What would she tell her parents? Her boyfriend? She couldn’t face any of them right now.
Once she arrived home, Hope made some tea and sit starring out the window. Snow was lightly drifting down, leaving a dusting on the sidewalk. Normally she’d be worried about shoveling snow off the next morning, but now all she saw was the beauty.
She marvels at the way your perspective changes when the end is near. Things you should have done haunt you. Mistakes you’ve made seem larger. Life seems more beautiful. And you miss it even before it’s gone.
Sighing, she gets up to call her parents. She’ll deal with her boyfriend when he comes over later.
***
She’s still with Tom, although things aren’t the same. The relationship is strained. He still holds her, but she feels the difference in his embrace, a subtle nuance of something missing. Who could blame him though? It must be hard to love someone who’s leaving you.
They’re in the mountains. It’s been three weeks since the diagnosis, and she needed to get away. Tom agreed to bring her to her parent’s cabin even though he didn’t like the idea. There was no phone, no electricity, and the only water was from a well. Cell phones worked, but only in certain places.
Hope wanted to go because it was so isolated. She couldn’t stand all the pitying looks and tears. She just wanted to die in peace. Tom didn’t know it yet, but she was sending him away tomorrow.
***
He put up more of a fight than she thought he would. She figured he would be glad to leave, but he surprised her. In the end she won though. After all, it was her life that was ending. She should be allowed to face that end in whatever way she saw fit.
She kissed him goodbye one last time and walked back into the house. After a last call to her parent’s she was going into the mountains.
She still felt fine. The doctor said that wasn’t unusual with her condition. That death came softly and without warning. She decided to spend the last days looking out over the canyon. Tom had helped set everything up before he left. All she had to do was close the cabin and head out.
The call to her parents was harder than she thought. She was really going to miss them. There were many things she’d do different if she had the chance.
After locking the cabin door, she headed to her destination.
***
The roar of an engine startled Hope out of a sound sleep. She’d forgotten to stoke the fire and it was down to embers. Not that it mattered. Dying was dying, whether from hypothermia or disease.
Tom came blasting up to the campsite on a snowmobile. Hope couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d told him to stay away. That she didn’t want him seeing her at the end. How could have go against her wishes this way?
And he looked happy to be doing it. A big smile graced his face.
Hope stood as Tom raced over to her. Grabbing her face in his hands, he kissed her. Startled, Hope sprung away.
“What are you doing here, Tom? I asked you to leave,” she whispered.
“You’re going with me, baby,” Tom replied.
“What are you talking about? You know I’m dying here. I don’t want to be hooked to machines in some hospital.”
“You’re not dying anywhere. Not right now at least. The doctor’s office has been trying to get you for days. The test results were messed up somehow. You’re fine, Hope! Healthy as a horse.” Tom cried jubilantly.
Hope smiled the most brilliant smile. Her eyes shone with light.
“It’s not every day you get a second chance on life and I plan to do things right this time,” she told Tom.
“Starting right this instant,” she added as she pulled him into her arms.
Hope’s shoulders slumped as the gravity of the doctor’s statement sunk in. This morning the only thing she was worried about was getting to work on time. Now she had to worry about living to work another month.
What would she tell her parents? Her boyfriend? She couldn’t face any of them right now.
Once she arrived home, Hope made some tea and sit starring out the window. Snow was lightly drifting down, leaving a dusting on the sidewalk. Normally she’d be worried about shoveling snow off the next morning, but now all she saw was the beauty.
She marvels at the way your perspective changes when the end is near. Things you should have done haunt you. Mistakes you’ve made seem larger. Life seems more beautiful. And you miss it even before it’s gone.
Sighing, she gets up to call her parents. She’ll deal with her boyfriend when he comes over later.
***
She’s still with Tom, although things aren’t the same. The relationship is strained. He still holds her, but she feels the difference in his embrace, a subtle nuance of something missing. Who could blame him though? It must be hard to love someone who’s leaving you.
They’re in the mountains. It’s been three weeks since the diagnosis, and she needed to get away. Tom agreed to bring her to her parent’s cabin even though he didn’t like the idea. There was no phone, no electricity, and the only water was from a well. Cell phones worked, but only in certain places.
Hope wanted to go because it was so isolated. She couldn’t stand all the pitying looks and tears. She just wanted to die in peace. Tom didn’t know it yet, but she was sending him away tomorrow.
***
He put up more of a fight than she thought he would. She figured he would be glad to leave, but he surprised her. In the end she won though. After all, it was her life that was ending. She should be allowed to face that end in whatever way she saw fit.
She kissed him goodbye one last time and walked back into the house. After a last call to her parent’s she was going into the mountains.
She still felt fine. The doctor said that wasn’t unusual with her condition. That death came softly and without warning. She decided to spend the last days looking out over the canyon. Tom had helped set everything up before he left. All she had to do was close the cabin and head out.
The call to her parents was harder than she thought. She was really going to miss them. There were many things she’d do different if she had the chance.
After locking the cabin door, she headed to her destination.
***
The roar of an engine startled Hope out of a sound sleep. She’d forgotten to stoke the fire and it was down to embers. Not that it mattered. Dying was dying, whether from hypothermia or disease.
Tom came blasting up to the campsite on a snowmobile. Hope couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d told him to stay away. That she didn’t want him seeing her at the end. How could have go against her wishes this way?
And he looked happy to be doing it. A big smile graced his face.
Hope stood as Tom raced over to her. Grabbing her face in his hands, he kissed her. Startled, Hope sprung away.
“What are you doing here, Tom? I asked you to leave,” she whispered.
“You’re going with me, baby,” Tom replied.
“What are you talking about? You know I’m dying here. I don’t want to be hooked to machines in some hospital.”
“You’re not dying anywhere. Not right now at least. The doctor’s office has been trying to get you for days. The test results were messed up somehow. You’re fine, Hope! Healthy as a horse.” Tom cried jubilantly.
Hope smiled the most brilliant smile. Her eyes shone with light.
“It’s not every day you get a second chance on life and I plan to do things right this time,” she told Tom.
“Starting right this instant,” she added as she pulled him into her arms.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Cruel Love
This is my contribution to the Simply Snickers prompt for the week.
People prey on the emotions of others
Cruelty, hatred, and pain are often wrought
Lust can pose as love
And the unsuspecting get caught
Finding a port for a bruised heart
Is the solace often sought
See with eyes wide open
To avoid becoming ensnared
Because the pain is not soon forgot
People prey on the emotions of others
Cruelty, hatred, and pain are often wrought
Lust can pose as love
And the unsuspecting get caught
Finding a port for a bruised heart
Is the solace often sought
See with eyes wide open
To avoid becoming ensnared
Because the pain is not soon forgot
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Halloween Horror
This is my contribution to the 1000 Word Meme this week. I thought it was fitting.
“This is why I hate Halloween,” Stan remarked, gazing at the mutilated bodies in the bedroom.”All the crazies come out of the woodwork.”
His partner was examining the body of the lady of the house. She used to be quite beautiful according to the picture by the bed. Now it was all he could do to look at her. Her face had been carved up. It looked like someone had tried to make her look like the Joker off the Batman movie.
The man wasn’t any better. His nose had been cut off and his eyes poked out.
“I don’t understand why there aren’t signs of a struggle,” Stan said. “It looks like someone just walked in, did the deed, and waltz out pretty as you please.”
“Chief, you need to see this,” a deputy called from the kitchen.
“What ya got,” he asked upon entering the kitchen.
“We found this sitting on the counter beside the booze,” he said, pointing at a box of rat poison.
“You got to be shitin me. Nobody uses rat poison to kill these days.”
“Seems somebody did. Looks like it still works too,” the deputy replied.
Stan made his way back to the bedroom shaking his head. Rat poison. Haven’t had a case of that in years, he thought.
“They were poisoned, John. Rat poison, if you can believe it,” Stan told his partner.
“Guess that explains why they didn’t put up a fight. That stuff’s lethal.”
***
“Holy Shit!” someone in another part of the house muttered.
Stan and John made their way to a bedroom down the hall. As they entered they saw a deputy staring into the closet. He was stock still with a shocked expression on his face.
“What is it, deputy?” Stan asked.
“A kid,” the deputy replied.
“A kid? Well, what are you doing? Get him out of the closet.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Chief.”
“Why the hell not?” Stan asked as he made his way to the closet.
What he saw inside chilled even his hardened heart. A child of about ten was sitting crossed legged in the closet floor holding a small dog. In the child’s hand was a knife. He was busy carving the dogs face.
The chief heard him say, “I’m sorry, Toby, but Mom wouldn’t get me a pumpkin. I asked her and Dad both but they wanted to get drunk as usual. I just wanted one normal Halloween like all the kids at school talk about. I wanted to carve a pumpkin! I think yours is going to look the best. I practiced on Mom and Dad first. I wonder if I can cut the heads off and sit them on the porch?”
“This is why I hate Halloween,” Stan remarked, gazing at the mutilated bodies in the bedroom.”All the crazies come out of the woodwork.”
His partner was examining the body of the lady of the house. She used to be quite beautiful according to the picture by the bed. Now it was all he could do to look at her. Her face had been carved up. It looked like someone had tried to make her look like the Joker off the Batman movie.
The man wasn’t any better. His nose had been cut off and his eyes poked out.
“I don’t understand why there aren’t signs of a struggle,” Stan said. “It looks like someone just walked in, did the deed, and waltz out pretty as you please.”
“Chief, you need to see this,” a deputy called from the kitchen.
“What ya got,” he asked upon entering the kitchen.
“We found this sitting on the counter beside the booze,” he said, pointing at a box of rat poison.
“You got to be shitin me. Nobody uses rat poison to kill these days.”
“Seems somebody did. Looks like it still works too,” the deputy replied.
Stan made his way back to the bedroom shaking his head. Rat poison. Haven’t had a case of that in years, he thought.
“They were poisoned, John. Rat poison, if you can believe it,” Stan told his partner.
“Guess that explains why they didn’t put up a fight. That stuff’s lethal.”
***
“Holy Shit!” someone in another part of the house muttered.
Stan and John made their way to a bedroom down the hall. As they entered they saw a deputy staring into the closet. He was stock still with a shocked expression on his face.
“What is it, deputy?” Stan asked.
“A kid,” the deputy replied.
“A kid? Well, what are you doing? Get him out of the closet.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Chief.”
“Why the hell not?” Stan asked as he made his way to the closet.
What he saw inside chilled even his hardened heart. A child of about ten was sitting crossed legged in the closet floor holding a small dog. In the child’s hand was a knife. He was busy carving the dogs face.
The chief heard him say, “I’m sorry, Toby, but Mom wouldn’t get me a pumpkin. I asked her and Dad both but they wanted to get drunk as usual. I just wanted one normal Halloween like all the kids at school talk about. I wanted to carve a pumpkin! I think yours is going to look the best. I practiced on Mom and Dad first. I wonder if I can cut the heads off and sit them on the porch?”
Monday, October 27, 2008
Abyss
This is my contribution to the Weekend Wordsmith prompt. The word for this week was "down". Hope you like the story.
Larry knew he’d heard a scream earlier, but he couldn’t find anyone. He’d been walking around the woods for two hours now. It was twenty degrees out so he knew if someone was hurt out here they’d need help. Left to the elements a person would die tonight.
He decided to give it thirty more minutes. There was one section he hadn’t checked yet. He headed in that direction hoping to come upon whoever was out here before it was too late.
The forest floor was dense with vegetation in this section. Larry tripped more than once during his search. He kept looking because he knew the sound earlier was a scream; he was sure of it!
Larry wasn’t watching his footing. He was looking around so he wouldn’t miss anyone that had fallen. His didn’t know his good intentions were going to be rewarded very soon.
Larry didn’t see the log until it was too late. He tripped over it and started falling. The last thought he had as he fell down the abyss was that he now knew where the scream came from.
Larry knew he’d heard a scream earlier, but he couldn’t find anyone. He’d been walking around the woods for two hours now. It was twenty degrees out so he knew if someone was hurt out here they’d need help. Left to the elements a person would die tonight.
He decided to give it thirty more minutes. There was one section he hadn’t checked yet. He headed in that direction hoping to come upon whoever was out here before it was too late.
The forest floor was dense with vegetation in this section. Larry tripped more than once during his search. He kept looking because he knew the sound earlier was a scream; he was sure of it!
Larry wasn’t watching his footing. He was looking around so he wouldn’t miss anyone that had fallen. His didn’t know his good intentions were going to be rewarded very soon.
Larry didn’t see the log until it was too late. He tripped over it and started falling. The last thought he had as he fell down the abyss was that he now knew where the scream came from.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Only Words
“But I love you!” John beseeched.
“Those are just words, John. You don’t know what love is. If you loved me, you wouldn’t cheat. If you loved me, you wouldn’t belittle everything I do. If you loved me, you wouldn’t call me stupid. Love is more than just saying the words,” Lisa replied.
“I’ve taken care of you all these years. Gave you a roof over your head, food to eat, a car. Doesn’t that count for anything?” John asked.
“All those are material things. Yes, they were nice and I thank you for them, but you never gave me what I really needed. Someone to listen and share my dreams with; someone to talk to about what was going on in my life, a shoulder to cry on. You never offered any of those things,” Lisa said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ve tried so hard to make this work. I asked about your day, spend time with your friends, and tell you how smart I think you are. I SHOWED you my love, John. But I’m all out now. I just can’t do this anymore.”
“So you’re just going to leave? Just walk out on our life and never come back.”
“Yes. I have to. It hurts too much to stay. I deserve better than this, John. I’m worth more than this. It took me a long time to figure that out, but I finally have,” Lisa said with a rueful shake of her head. “I hope you learn what love really means, John. I really do.”
“Oh, and one more thing,” Lisa calls on her way out the door. “Don’t say the words if you don’t mean them.”
“Those are just words, John. You don’t know what love is. If you loved me, you wouldn’t cheat. If you loved me, you wouldn’t belittle everything I do. If you loved me, you wouldn’t call me stupid. Love is more than just saying the words,” Lisa replied.
“I’ve taken care of you all these years. Gave you a roof over your head, food to eat, a car. Doesn’t that count for anything?” John asked.
“All those are material things. Yes, they were nice and I thank you for them, but you never gave me what I really needed. Someone to listen and share my dreams with; someone to talk to about what was going on in my life, a shoulder to cry on. You never offered any of those things,” Lisa said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ve tried so hard to make this work. I asked about your day, spend time with your friends, and tell you how smart I think you are. I SHOWED you my love, John. But I’m all out now. I just can’t do this anymore.”
“So you’re just going to leave? Just walk out on our life and never come back.”
“Yes. I have to. It hurts too much to stay. I deserve better than this, John. I’m worth more than this. It took me a long time to figure that out, but I finally have,” Lisa said with a rueful shake of her head. “I hope you learn what love really means, John. I really do.”
“Oh, and one more thing,” Lisa calls on her way out the door. “Don’t say the words if you don’t mean them.”
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Betrayal
My contribution to the Simply Snickers poetry prompt for the week.
The toast sets off the evening
Tempted to touch as glances meet
Across a crowded room
Glasses tinkling
Voices murmuring congratulations
The bride looks back to her groom
The toast sets off the evening
Tempted to touch as glances meet
Across a crowded room
Glasses tinkling
Voices murmuring congratulations
The bride looks back to her groom
Monday, October 20, 2008
Wasting Daylight
This is my contribution to the 1000 Words meme for the week. You really should go check out the picture they have up, it's beautiful!
Annabelle couldn’t wait to go outside. She was literally hopping from one foot to the other waiting on her mother to get ready. She’d been ready for hours. She didn’t understand why her mother had to sleep so late, and then take so long getting ready.
“Come on, Mom, we’re burning daylight here,” she cried.
After her mother finished laughing she asked, “Where did you hear that, Annabelle?”
“From Daddy.”
“It does sound like something he’d say,” her mom agreed.
“Are you ready, Mom?”
“Ok, come on I’m ready now,” her mom said as she grabbed her coat.
Annabelle already had her coat on. She’d been wearing it for the last hour, even though her mom said she’d get too hot. She wasn’t worried about that, she just wanted to go.
She was in the car and buckled up before her mom even got down the driveway. Her foot was swinging back and forth against the seat as she waited impatiently for her mom to back the car out. She just couldn’t wait to get there!
Once they got to the park, she jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped. After running around to her mom’s side, she grabbed her hand and pulled her along. Once they rounded the bend she stopped with a gasp.
“Oh, Mom, isn’t it beautiful? God painted the trees again. I just knew He would!”
Annabelle couldn’t wait to go outside. She was literally hopping from one foot to the other waiting on her mother to get ready. She’d been ready for hours. She didn’t understand why her mother had to sleep so late, and then take so long getting ready.
“Come on, Mom, we’re burning daylight here,” she cried.
After her mother finished laughing she asked, “Where did you hear that, Annabelle?”
“From Daddy.”
“It does sound like something he’d say,” her mom agreed.
“Are you ready, Mom?”
“Ok, come on I’m ready now,” her mom said as she grabbed her coat.
Annabelle already had her coat on. She’d been wearing it for the last hour, even though her mom said she’d get too hot. She wasn’t worried about that, she just wanted to go.
She was in the car and buckled up before her mom even got down the driveway. Her foot was swinging back and forth against the seat as she waited impatiently for her mom to back the car out. She just couldn’t wait to get there!
Once they got to the park, she jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped. After running around to her mom’s side, she grabbed her hand and pulled her along. Once they rounded the bend she stopped with a gasp.
“Oh, Mom, isn’t it beautiful? God painted the trees again. I just knew He would!”
Friday, October 17, 2008
NaNoWriMo
Nothing should stop you.
Anybody can play!
November is the month.
Out of the starting gate…
Write fast, write long.
Rush to the finish.
Ignore all but the sirens song.
Music to any writer’s ear…
Of finishing that novel so dear
Anybody can play!
November is the month.
Out of the starting gate…
Write fast, write long.
Rush to the finish.
Ignore all but the sirens song.
Music to any writer’s ear…
Of finishing that novel so dear
Thursday, October 16, 2008
A Matter of Trust
This is my contribution to the Matineemuse writing prompt. It's the first time I've participated with them. I hope somebody likes it. I did a microfiction for this one.
“Timmy, don’t let me see you do that again.”
“Why not, Mom. I’m not hurting him,” Timmy whined.
“What if I handed you your food and then took it right back? Would you like that? No, you wouldn’t. It’s a matter of trust, Timmy. A matter of trust.”
“Timmy, don’t let me see you do that again.”
“Why not, Mom. I’m not hurting him,” Timmy whined.
“What if I handed you your food and then took it right back? Would you like that? No, you wouldn’t. It’s a matter of trust, Timmy. A matter of trust.”
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Bloom of Death
My contribution to Three Word Wednesday. Hope y'all like it.
“Such a delicate flower. So sweet and fragrant,” the masked man whispered.
Nancy lay as still as she could in the trunk. If she didn’t move, maybe he wouldn’t notice she was awake. She didn’t know exactly where she was, but knew it was a forest. She could hear the night bugs singing to each other.
“Wake up, little flower,” the man said as he shook Nancy’s shoulder.
When Nancy didn’t move, he just reached in the trunk and scooped her up like she weighed nothing, and then started walking into the woods.
Nancy hung limp in his arms, waiting for a chance to do something. She couldn’t just let this madman kill her! She’d become jaded towards life recently, but she still wanted to live. A cheating boyfriend and a dead-end job were nothing compared to this.
Think, Nancy! What can you do? There has to be something, her brain screamed as the man carried her farther into the woods.
When her captor tripped over a fallen log, she saw her chance. As she was rolling away after he dropped her, she grabbed a limb and swung at his head. The man saw it just in time, turning so the impact hit his shoulder instead.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said with a smirk, walking towards her. “Now you’ll have to pay.”
Nancy tried to run, but her legs were stiff from being cooped up in the trunk so long. She only got a few feet before he caught her. She screamed as loud as she could which seemed to amuse him.
“Scream all you want. There’s nobody out here tonight but you and me,” he informed her with a smile.
Nancy kicked and scratched with all her might, but it did no good. He was just too strong. He finally got tired of the fight and hit her over the head.
The last thing Nancy saw was her captor’s feet and a shovel propped against a giant oak tree.
“I don’t remember this from our last hike in these woods, do you?” Jacob asked his brother.
“No, and we would have remember that. It’s beautiful,” his brother replied looking at the blood red flower.
“I wonder how it grows under the shade of this old oak.”
“Such a delicate flower. So sweet and fragrant,” the masked man whispered.
Nancy lay as still as she could in the trunk. If she didn’t move, maybe he wouldn’t notice she was awake. She didn’t know exactly where she was, but knew it was a forest. She could hear the night bugs singing to each other.
“Wake up, little flower,” the man said as he shook Nancy’s shoulder.
When Nancy didn’t move, he just reached in the trunk and scooped her up like she weighed nothing, and then started walking into the woods.
Nancy hung limp in his arms, waiting for a chance to do something. She couldn’t just let this madman kill her! She’d become jaded towards life recently, but she still wanted to live. A cheating boyfriend and a dead-end job were nothing compared to this.
Think, Nancy! What can you do? There has to be something, her brain screamed as the man carried her farther into the woods.
When her captor tripped over a fallen log, she saw her chance. As she was rolling away after he dropped her, she grabbed a limb and swung at his head. The man saw it just in time, turning so the impact hit his shoulder instead.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said with a smirk, walking towards her. “Now you’ll have to pay.”
Nancy tried to run, but her legs were stiff from being cooped up in the trunk so long. She only got a few feet before he caught her. She screamed as loud as she could which seemed to amuse him.
“Scream all you want. There’s nobody out here tonight but you and me,” he informed her with a smile.
Nancy kicked and scratched with all her might, but it did no good. He was just too strong. He finally got tired of the fight and hit her over the head.
The last thing Nancy saw was her captor’s feet and a shovel propped against a giant oak tree.
***
“I don’t remember this from our last hike in these woods, do you?” Jacob asked his brother.
“No, and we would have remember that. It’s beautiful,” his brother replied looking at the blood red flower.
“I wonder how it grows under the shade of this old oak.”
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Locked Away
This weeks story for the 1000 Words Meme.
Alisa sat looking out at the dreary afternoon. Rain pelted the window, the teardrops washing the grime away. How she wished to be outside! She only felt alive when she got to leave this room. Inside, her spirit was weak and her thoughts ran away with her. She feared what might happen if she were locked inside too long.
“Alisa, are you still sitting at that window?” her mother called from the kitchen.
Alisa didn’t answer. Her mother knew she was at the window. She was always at the window when she couldn’t be outside.
“You know, they said it might rain all week. You can’t sit there and do nothing all that time,” her mother went on.
“All week!” Alisa squeaked.
There was no way she could go a whole week cooped up inside. She’d go crazy! She had to be outside and breathe the fresh air. See the birds flying, and hear the squirrels scampering. Her soul would wither and die if kept inside that long.
“We need the rain, Alisa. We’ve been in a drought in case you haven’t noticed.”
Alisa had noticed. She loved the drought. It meant she got to go outside every day! She didn’t have to come in until supper time. For a whole month she’d been able to sit beneath the trees and smell the grass. She loved taking her shoes off and scrunching her toes in the grass. She knew there’d be no grass without rain, but somehow that wasn’t as important as going outside.
“Can I go play in the rain, Mom?” Alisa asked plaintively.
“No, you’ll catch cold.”
“It’s not cold outside, Mom. I’ll wear a coat.”
“Alisa, you know how your dad feels about you going out in bad weather. He thinks you spend too much time daydreaming outside anyway.”
Alisa knew what her Dad thought. He’d told her often enough. He didn’t understand the pull of nature. The only time he wanted to go outside was if he was going to a ballgame. Her mom wasn’t much better. She only went out to do the grocery shopping.
Alisa remembered the time she’d asked if she was adopted. The stunned expressions on her parent’s faces were comical. They really had no idea why she’d asked. When she tried to explain, talking about all the differences between them, they just got more confused. She finally gave up; although she still wondered from time to time.
“Ok, Mom,” Alisa sighed, turning back to the window.
The rain continued to hit the window. Alisa watched as the drops slid down and disappeared. Disappeared just like her soul was. Slowly, one drop at a time.
Alisa sat looking out at the dreary afternoon. Rain pelted the window, the teardrops washing the grime away. How she wished to be outside! She only felt alive when she got to leave this room. Inside, her spirit was weak and her thoughts ran away with her. She feared what might happen if she were locked inside too long.
“Alisa, are you still sitting at that window?” her mother called from the kitchen.
Alisa didn’t answer. Her mother knew she was at the window. She was always at the window when she couldn’t be outside.
“You know, they said it might rain all week. You can’t sit there and do nothing all that time,” her mother went on.
“All week!” Alisa squeaked.
There was no way she could go a whole week cooped up inside. She’d go crazy! She had to be outside and breathe the fresh air. See the birds flying, and hear the squirrels scampering. Her soul would wither and die if kept inside that long.
“We need the rain, Alisa. We’ve been in a drought in case you haven’t noticed.”
Alisa had noticed. She loved the drought. It meant she got to go outside every day! She didn’t have to come in until supper time. For a whole month she’d been able to sit beneath the trees and smell the grass. She loved taking her shoes off and scrunching her toes in the grass. She knew there’d be no grass without rain, but somehow that wasn’t as important as going outside.
“Can I go play in the rain, Mom?” Alisa asked plaintively.
“No, you’ll catch cold.”
“It’s not cold outside, Mom. I’ll wear a coat.”
“Alisa, you know how your dad feels about you going out in bad weather. He thinks you spend too much time daydreaming outside anyway.”
Alisa knew what her Dad thought. He’d told her often enough. He didn’t understand the pull of nature. The only time he wanted to go outside was if he was going to a ballgame. Her mom wasn’t much better. She only went out to do the grocery shopping.
Alisa remembered the time she’d asked if she was adopted. The stunned expressions on her parent’s faces were comical. They really had no idea why she’d asked. When she tried to explain, talking about all the differences between them, they just got more confused. She finally gave up; although she still wondered from time to time.
“Ok, Mom,” Alisa sighed, turning back to the window.
The rain continued to hit the window. Alisa watched as the drops slid down and disappeared. Disappeared just like her soul was. Slowly, one drop at a time.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Consequences
It seemed like a good idea at the time. Kyle said it was fantastic. Sheila was absolutely euphoric when talking about it, going on and on. I decided to try it. What could it hurt, right?
Wrong! I couldn’t have been more wrong if I’d tried. I knew something wasn’t right from the start. The sweating, cramps, and nausea were awful. The convulsions came next. I bit my tongue. I didn’t feel it, but I tasted the blood. The noise would have brought someone, except my meticulously laid out plan was working perfectly.
I wanted to be alone for my experiment. I picked a day my parents both worked late, and my sister was at soccer practice. I don’t know how long I lay there before help arrived.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. I say waking up. I feel like I’m awake, I can hear and see everything. My parents and sister come to visit and I talk to them but they can’t hear me. They act like they don’t even know I’m trying to talk. My friends aren’t any better.
Yes, my friends come to visit. Crying and holding my hand. I can’t feel them holding my hand, but I can see it. I can’t feel anything anymore. Funny, when Kyle talked about feeling no pain it seemed like a good thing…
Wrong! I couldn’t have been more wrong if I’d tried. I knew something wasn’t right from the start. The sweating, cramps, and nausea were awful. The convulsions came next. I bit my tongue. I didn’t feel it, but I tasted the blood. The noise would have brought someone, except my meticulously laid out plan was working perfectly.
I wanted to be alone for my experiment. I picked a day my parents both worked late, and my sister was at soccer practice. I don’t know how long I lay there before help arrived.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. I say waking up. I feel like I’m awake, I can hear and see everything. My parents and sister come to visit and I talk to them but they can’t hear me. They act like they don’t even know I’m trying to talk. My friends aren’t any better.
Yes, my friends come to visit. Crying and holding my hand. I can’t feel them holding my hand, but I can see it. I can’t feel anything anymore. Funny, when Kyle talked about feeling no pain it seemed like a good thing…
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Candlelight
My contribution to the Weekend Wordsmith prompt.
Shadows dancing
Bodies moving as one
The beat of love
As hearts come undone
Passion shared
Throughout the night
Souls joined
In the glow of candlelight
Shadows dancing
Bodies moving as one
The beat of love
As hearts come undone
Passion shared
Throughout the night
Souls joined
In the glow of candlelight
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Unwanted
This is my first contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. I hope you like it!
“I’m going to thrash the living daylights out of you if you don’t stop that crying,” Joe shouted at his son as he shoved him across the room with effortless ease.
Toby leaned against the wall, rubbing his cheek from the earlier slap. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done to set his Dad off this time. All he did was ask if he could have five dollars for science class tomorrow. They had to pay to use the lab. Next thing he knew, his Dad had slapped him so hard it brought tears to his eyes.
He tried to stop the tears because he knew how bad his Dad hated them. He was always telling him that men don’t cry. The pain was too bad though, and he couldn’t stop.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Toby ventured after a few minutes had passed.
He still wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but he knew he was supposed to do it.
“Do you think I’m made of money, Toby?” his father asked?
“That damned school always wants money for something. Your mom knew this I bet, the vindictive bitch. That’s why she left you for me to take care of. Only person she’s gonna spend money on is herself,” he muttered.
Toby didn’t know what to say. His Mom had left a few months earlier. Just walked out one night and never came back. Toby didn’t miss her much. Things were worse when she was home. All the fighting and yelling really scared him.
“Come on, Toby, let’s go,” his father said an hour later. He grabbed his coat of the rack and started towards the door.
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t worry about it, just get moving.”
Toby watched the buildings go by through the car window. He knew they were heading downtown, but still didn’t know exactly where. When his Dad pulled into the church parking lot he was shocked. They never went to church. It sure was a pretty building though. He’d like to see the inside.
Toby changed his mind quickly. He didn’t like this. He wasn’t sure why, but something wasn’t right. His dad was just sitting in the car looking at the church. Toby could tell he was thinking about something because the vein on the side of his head was pulsing.
“What are we doing at a church, Dad?” Toby asked.
“Toby, I want you to go knock on the door. When the priest answers ask him if you can have five dollars,” his father replied.
Toby looked at the church uncertainly, but got out of the car anyway. He had to do what his dad said even if he didn’t understand it. Why would the priest give him money? Maybe his dad knew him or something.
Toby knocked on the door and then stepped back. Just as the door opened he heard his dad start the car. The priest looked down at him and asked, “What can I do for you, son?”
Toby started to ask him for the money when he heard the car leave the parking lot. He didn’t know what to think at first so just stood frozen in place. The next thing he knew, his dad was squealing rubber down the road. He started running after the car yelling for his dad to come back.
The priest chased him down and brought him into the church.
“Calm down, son, and tell me what’s going on,” he said kindly.
Toby had never seen anyone with eyes like his. They looked so nice. He bet this man’s kids never got slapped. He didn’t want to admit that his dad had left him but he couldn’t lie to this man. He didn’t know why, but it just didn’t seem right.
“I don’t know. My Dad told me to knock and ask you for five dollars. I need it for science class tomorrow and he doesn’t have it. Mom might but she’s a vindictive bitch that only spends money on herself,” he told the startled priest.
“Where is your mother?” the priest said as he looked Toby over. He could tell the boy hadn’t had a bath in a while, and he looked hungry. There was also a red welt on his cheek.
“She left a while back. We haven’t seen her since. It’s just Dad and me now,” Toby replied. “I don’t know where dad went,” Toby went on with a look at the door.
“Come with me. We’ll go to the office and I can make a phone call. We’ll try to find out where your dad went, ok?” the priest said holding his hand out to Toby.
Toby was leery, but he took the man’s hand and let him lead the way to the office. Once there the priest told him to sit in the red chair in the hall while he made the call.
The priest went into the office and closed the door. Keeping his eye on Toby, he called the local police station and asked to speak to Sergeant Jones.
“Hello, John, this is Randy at St. Michaels.”
“Hello, Father, what can I do for you?” Sergeant Jones inquired.
“I have a boy here with me. His father just left him on the stoop.”
Sergeant Jones sighed and said, “I’ll be right over. It’s a damned shame when people have kids and then change their mind ain’t it, Father?”
The priest agreed, but looking at the mark on Toby’s cheek he thought leaving him here might have been the only good thing his dad had ever done for him.
“I’ll wait in the church with him, Sergeant,” he said as he hung up the phone.
Now he was left with the task of telling the child that his father wasn’t coming back, that he was unwanted. He sighed as he opened the office door and walked out. Seeing the expectant look on Toby’s face only made his heart sink lower.
“Toby, there’s something I have to tell you…”
“I’m going to thrash the living daylights out of you if you don’t stop that crying,” Joe shouted at his son as he shoved him across the room with effortless ease.
Toby leaned against the wall, rubbing his cheek from the earlier slap. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done to set his Dad off this time. All he did was ask if he could have five dollars for science class tomorrow. They had to pay to use the lab. Next thing he knew, his Dad had slapped him so hard it brought tears to his eyes.
He tried to stop the tears because he knew how bad his Dad hated them. He was always telling him that men don’t cry. The pain was too bad though, and he couldn’t stop.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Toby ventured after a few minutes had passed.
He still wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but he knew he was supposed to do it.
“Do you think I’m made of money, Toby?” his father asked?
“That damned school always wants money for something. Your mom knew this I bet, the vindictive bitch. That’s why she left you for me to take care of. Only person she’s gonna spend money on is herself,” he muttered.
Toby didn’t know what to say. His Mom had left a few months earlier. Just walked out one night and never came back. Toby didn’t miss her much. Things were worse when she was home. All the fighting and yelling really scared him.
“Come on, Toby, let’s go,” his father said an hour later. He grabbed his coat of the rack and started towards the door.
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t worry about it, just get moving.”
Toby watched the buildings go by through the car window. He knew they were heading downtown, but still didn’t know exactly where. When his Dad pulled into the church parking lot he was shocked. They never went to church. It sure was a pretty building though. He’d like to see the inside.
Toby changed his mind quickly. He didn’t like this. He wasn’t sure why, but something wasn’t right. His dad was just sitting in the car looking at the church. Toby could tell he was thinking about something because the vein on the side of his head was pulsing.
“What are we doing at a church, Dad?” Toby asked.
“Toby, I want you to go knock on the door. When the priest answers ask him if you can have five dollars,” his father replied.
Toby looked at the church uncertainly, but got out of the car anyway. He had to do what his dad said even if he didn’t understand it. Why would the priest give him money? Maybe his dad knew him or something.
Toby knocked on the door and then stepped back. Just as the door opened he heard his dad start the car. The priest looked down at him and asked, “What can I do for you, son?”
Toby started to ask him for the money when he heard the car leave the parking lot. He didn’t know what to think at first so just stood frozen in place. The next thing he knew, his dad was squealing rubber down the road. He started running after the car yelling for his dad to come back.
The priest chased him down and brought him into the church.
“Calm down, son, and tell me what’s going on,” he said kindly.
Toby had never seen anyone with eyes like his. They looked so nice. He bet this man’s kids never got slapped. He didn’t want to admit that his dad had left him but he couldn’t lie to this man. He didn’t know why, but it just didn’t seem right.
“I don’t know. My Dad told me to knock and ask you for five dollars. I need it for science class tomorrow and he doesn’t have it. Mom might but she’s a vindictive bitch that only spends money on herself,” he told the startled priest.
“Where is your mother?” the priest said as he looked Toby over. He could tell the boy hadn’t had a bath in a while, and he looked hungry. There was also a red welt on his cheek.
“She left a while back. We haven’t seen her since. It’s just Dad and me now,” Toby replied. “I don’t know where dad went,” Toby went on with a look at the door.
“Come with me. We’ll go to the office and I can make a phone call. We’ll try to find out where your dad went, ok?” the priest said holding his hand out to Toby.
Toby was leery, but he took the man’s hand and let him lead the way to the office. Once there the priest told him to sit in the red chair in the hall while he made the call.
The priest went into the office and closed the door. Keeping his eye on Toby, he called the local police station and asked to speak to Sergeant Jones.
“Hello, John, this is Randy at St. Michaels.”
“Hello, Father, what can I do for you?” Sergeant Jones inquired.
“I have a boy here with me. His father just left him on the stoop.”
Sergeant Jones sighed and said, “I’ll be right over. It’s a damned shame when people have kids and then change their mind ain’t it, Father?”
The priest agreed, but looking at the mark on Toby’s cheek he thought leaving him here might have been the only good thing his dad had ever done for him.
“I’ll wait in the church with him, Sergeant,” he said as he hung up the phone.
Now he was left with the task of telling the child that his father wasn’t coming back, that he was unwanted. He sighed as he opened the office door and walked out. Seeing the expectant look on Toby’s face only made his heart sink lower.
“Toby, there’s something I have to tell you…”
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Passion
This is my contribution to the Simply Snickers poetry prompt for the week.
The swing moved slowly back and forth
The only sound breaths and moans
The sweet surrender absolute
Love given and received with greed
The swell of passion mounting
Senses swim with intense sensation
Bodies merging as one
Completion reached together
The swing moved slowly back and forth
The only sound breaths and moans
The sweet surrender absolute
Love given and received with greed
The swell of passion mounting
Senses swim with intense sensation
Bodies merging as one
Completion reached together
Monday, October 6, 2008
Blend
This is my contribution the the 100 Words meme. I missed last weeks! Hope y'all like this one.
“Are you wearing that to school, Debra?”
“Yes, Mother. It’s what all the girls wear these days,” Debra replied.
Her mother looked her over again from head to toe. The outfit left nothing at all to the imagination.
“Isn’t it a little revealing?” she asked her daughter cautiously.
“No more so than anyone else’s clothes at school,” Debra said with a shrug.
“I think you should change, Debra.”
“But I thought you wanted me to blend in, Mother. Remember, you always said if I stood out people would notice all my flaws,” Debra replied as she went out the door.
“Are you wearing that to school, Debra?”
“Yes, Mother. It’s what all the girls wear these days,” Debra replied.
Her mother looked her over again from head to toe. The outfit left nothing at all to the imagination.
“Isn’t it a little revealing?” she asked her daughter cautiously.
“No more so than anyone else’s clothes at school,” Debra said with a shrug.
“I think you should change, Debra.”
“But I thought you wanted me to blend in, Mother. Remember, you always said if I stood out people would notice all my flaws,” Debra replied as she went out the door.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Forbidden
This is my contribution to the Sunday Scribblings writing prompt. Let me know what you think.
She walked into the room and every head turned. They all knew she was taken. Charlie made sure everyone know just who she belonged to. If he caught them looking there’d be hell to pay. But it was so hard not to stare at something that perfect.
Long legs and flowing blonde hair combined with a smile that could knock your socks off. What man could resist that? Charlie knew everyone looked. He just didn’t like seeing them when they did it. He sure liked it when they talked about how lucky he was though. Too bad Johnny was new to town and didn’t know all this.
Johnny almost fell off his bar stool when April walked into the room. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When he saw her sit down, he got up and ambled over. You could have heard a pin drop when he pulled out a chair and sat down.
April was so shocked that she didn’t even think to stop him. She just sat gaping.
The next thing anybody knew, Johnny was flying across the floor and Charlie was screaming bloody murder. Johnny lay stunned for a few minutes, long enough for the second blow to land squarely upside his jaw. After this he realized he better get up and try to figure out what was going on.
“Wait a minute, fella,” he said as Charlie came in for another blow. “What’s going on here?”
“You were messing with my woman is what’s going on here,” Charlie replied before kicking Johnny in the knee.
“Dammit, will you stop!” Johnny pleaded.
“Stop? I’ve just got started. Nobody messes with my woman and gets away with it. You think you can just waltz in and steal her away from me, don’t ya pretty boy? Well it ain’t gonna happen,” Charlie sneered.
“I wasn’t stealing anything. I was just going to talk to her. I didn’t know she belonged to anybody,” Johnny cried as he blocked the next blow.
“Well now you know. And so nobody else makes the mistake of thinking otherwise, I’m gonna make an example out of you.”
Charlie worked on Johnny for a good thirty minutes. By the time he was through the whole bar was a mess. He’d owe Chuck a pretty penny this time for sure. When he finally got too tired to fight any longer he sat down at the table with April.
Looking down at Johnny he said, “Do you understand now, son? You don’t go messing with another man’s woman. You should find out if the lady’s taken before you try to pick her up. I know my April’s something special, luscious and sweet. But this here is forbidden fruit, son. Nobody gets a taste but me.”
She walked into the room and every head turned. They all knew she was taken. Charlie made sure everyone know just who she belonged to. If he caught them looking there’d be hell to pay. But it was so hard not to stare at something that perfect.
Long legs and flowing blonde hair combined with a smile that could knock your socks off. What man could resist that? Charlie knew everyone looked. He just didn’t like seeing them when they did it. He sure liked it when they talked about how lucky he was though. Too bad Johnny was new to town and didn’t know all this.
Johnny almost fell off his bar stool when April walked into the room. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When he saw her sit down, he got up and ambled over. You could have heard a pin drop when he pulled out a chair and sat down.
April was so shocked that she didn’t even think to stop him. She just sat gaping.
The next thing anybody knew, Johnny was flying across the floor and Charlie was screaming bloody murder. Johnny lay stunned for a few minutes, long enough for the second blow to land squarely upside his jaw. After this he realized he better get up and try to figure out what was going on.
“Wait a minute, fella,” he said as Charlie came in for another blow. “What’s going on here?”
“You were messing with my woman is what’s going on here,” Charlie replied before kicking Johnny in the knee.
“Dammit, will you stop!” Johnny pleaded.
“Stop? I’ve just got started. Nobody messes with my woman and gets away with it. You think you can just waltz in and steal her away from me, don’t ya pretty boy? Well it ain’t gonna happen,” Charlie sneered.
“I wasn’t stealing anything. I was just going to talk to her. I didn’t know she belonged to anybody,” Johnny cried as he blocked the next blow.
“Well now you know. And so nobody else makes the mistake of thinking otherwise, I’m gonna make an example out of you.”
Charlie worked on Johnny for a good thirty minutes. By the time he was through the whole bar was a mess. He’d owe Chuck a pretty penny this time for sure. When he finally got too tired to fight any longer he sat down at the table with April.
Looking down at Johnny he said, “Do you understand now, son? You don’t go messing with another man’s woman. You should find out if the lady’s taken before you try to pick her up. I know my April’s something special, luscious and sweet. But this here is forbidden fruit, son. Nobody gets a taste but me.”
Thursday, October 2, 2008
A Slow Death
Here's this weeks poem for the Simply Snickers poetry prompt.
The clouds weep
The oceans wail
Rubbish clutters the beaches
And the ozone fails
Trash abounds
Pollution runs wild
The climate suffers
The effects of style
More concerned with how things look
Getting places in a hurry
Bigger and better is the cry
As the world dies
The clouds weep
The oceans wail
Rubbish clutters the beaches
And the ozone fails
Trash abounds
Pollution runs wild
The climate suffers
The effects of style
More concerned with how things look
Getting places in a hurry
Bigger and better is the cry
As the world dies
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Poison
Here's this weeks contribution to the Weekend Wordsmith Meme. It was fun writing this one!
Just one little drop, that’s all it would take to end my problems. It wouldn’t hurt much. Well, wouldn’t hurt me much anyway. I guess Harry would think differently. But after all the pain he’s put me though I don’t much care for his opinion.
He never cared when he hurt me. All the beatings…it’s a wonder I’m still alive. Not that I call this living. Stuck in this chair for the rest of my life. Oh how he enjoys the sympathy from friends! It makes my skin crawl when he talks about taking care of me. He takes care of me alright, every night. Takes care that I don’t scream too loud and wake the neighbors.
He should never have left the bottle sitting on the kitchen counter. He seems to think I can’t do anything in this chair, but I can. I reached the bottle for instance, and I’ve kept it hidden ever since. Just one little drop, and I’ll be free. Free to do what I’m not quite sure; but free from him, though, is the important thing. Maybe two little drops would be better.
Here he comes now, stomping up the stairs. Better get in the living room.
“What are you looking at, you little cripple?” he snarls as he walks in.
I know better than to say anything back. Don’t want the beatings to start too early.
“I guess you’ve been sitting here watching TV all day while I’ve been working. You’re useless,” he says as he’s pulling his work boots off, leaving his dirty, smelly socks lying on the floor.
“After I get me a beer and clean up, we’ll see if we can’t find a use for you,” he says with a smirk.
We’ll see about that, Harry. This time things are going to be different. I’m not taking any more of this crap. I’m tired of it. I’m just tired period.
“Damn that’s good,” he says after the first swig of beer.
“I won’t be long, and then we can have some fun,” he throws back on his way to the bathroom.
Just one little drop. Wonder how the beer will taste now. He is kinda big, better use two drops. There, all done. Just in time too, here he comes.
“What are you looking at?” he snarls. “After I finish this beer I’ll teach you some respect.”
“What the hell? What’s going on here? Argh…” he says grabbing his chest and falling to the floor. “What have you done, you little shit?”
This is very interesting. He’s actually twitching. I thought people only did that on TV. He’s turning blue too. I hope it will be over soon.
“Carmen, baby, call 911. You can’t let me die like this! You know I love you. I’m sorry. I won’t hurt you anymore. Please, baby, call someone!” he pleads.
“Sorry, Dad, remember I can’t reach the phone anymore. You wouldn’t lower it on the wall.”
Just one little drop, that’s all it would take to end my problems. It wouldn’t hurt much. Well, wouldn’t hurt me much anyway. I guess Harry would think differently. But after all the pain he’s put me though I don’t much care for his opinion.
He never cared when he hurt me. All the beatings…it’s a wonder I’m still alive. Not that I call this living. Stuck in this chair for the rest of my life. Oh how he enjoys the sympathy from friends! It makes my skin crawl when he talks about taking care of me. He takes care of me alright, every night. Takes care that I don’t scream too loud and wake the neighbors.
He should never have left the bottle sitting on the kitchen counter. He seems to think I can’t do anything in this chair, but I can. I reached the bottle for instance, and I’ve kept it hidden ever since. Just one little drop, and I’ll be free. Free to do what I’m not quite sure; but free from him, though, is the important thing. Maybe two little drops would be better.
Here he comes now, stomping up the stairs. Better get in the living room.
“What are you looking at, you little cripple?” he snarls as he walks in.
I know better than to say anything back. Don’t want the beatings to start too early.
“I guess you’ve been sitting here watching TV all day while I’ve been working. You’re useless,” he says as he’s pulling his work boots off, leaving his dirty, smelly socks lying on the floor.
“After I get me a beer and clean up, we’ll see if we can’t find a use for you,” he says with a smirk.
We’ll see about that, Harry. This time things are going to be different. I’m not taking any more of this crap. I’m tired of it. I’m just tired period.
“Damn that’s good,” he says after the first swig of beer.
“I won’t be long, and then we can have some fun,” he throws back on his way to the bathroom.
Just one little drop. Wonder how the beer will taste now. He is kinda big, better use two drops. There, all done. Just in time too, here he comes.
“What are you looking at?” he snarls. “After I finish this beer I’ll teach you some respect.”
“What the hell? What’s going on here? Argh…” he says grabbing his chest and falling to the floor. “What have you done, you little shit?”
This is very interesting. He’s actually twitching. I thought people only did that on TV. He’s turning blue too. I hope it will be over soon.
“Carmen, baby, call 911. You can’t let me die like this! You know I love you. I’m sorry. I won’t hurt you anymore. Please, baby, call someone!” he pleads.
“Sorry, Dad, remember I can’t reach the phone anymore. You wouldn’t lower it on the wall.”
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