Here is my piece for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week:
Mary wept, tears covering her hands. The daily dose of anger she dished out at her eight year old backfired when he simply said, “I’m sorry, Mom, I love you,” and gave her a hug. The arrow of shame that shot through her pierced her heart and brought her to her knees. It appears I need to stay on my knees a while and pray I can change my ways, she thought, holding the most important thing in her life close.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Fickle Love
Here's my micro fiction piece for Three Word Wednesday this week:
Tom and Charles were sharing some good-natured banter while tossing a ball back and forth until Tom caught a glance from Sarah, causing him to fumble and drop the ball on his bare foot, which led to some undignified hopping around. By the time he looked again, Sarah was gone.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Top of the Morning
Here is my piece for the Three Word Wednesday prompts of the week.
Max gave the knife a jiggle. “Damn,” he muttered when the blade broke. “You can’t get a quality knife for anything these days.”
He rummaged in a kitchen drawer, finally finding a suitable spoon, which he used to pry the broken part of his knife out of Tucker’s chest. Once finished, he packed the spoon and both parts of the knife in his carrying case, wiped down the place, even though he knew the cops weren’t likely to dust for prints in the dingy rat hole, and walked out the front door.
“Little early for that shit, ain’t it?” he snapped as he passed a bum lying in the alley, already half way through a bottle of cheap whiskey. “I’ll never understand some people,” he thought, admiring the sun rising over the heart of the city.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Final Choice
Here is my latest story for the Three Word Wednesday prompt.
Carl knew he didn’t have a choice, Fate had decided long ago his course of action. His indecision was from the fact he had gotten to know these people. He knew he shouldn’t, that it would lead to heartache… or what he suspected heartache felt like… but he did it anyway. He couldn’t help himself.
He never had the option of walking away. That wasn’t the way it worked. You were created, set on a course, and then the end came. His only consolation was that he’d stop the carnage that would have come should he not have been set on his course.
If they knew what he really was, they would shun him; maybe even kill him, which was ironic when you thought about it. In a few minutes, he’d do the job for them.
After one last look around, Carl pushed the button on his wrist, sat down, and waited for the blast.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Shakin' Things Up
Here is my Three Word Wednesday story for the week:
Chelsea swore she would gag if Bart said they had to maintain the status quo one more time. Maintaining the status quo was what got them in trouble in the first place. As far as she was concerned, they needed a major shaking up around here, and she knew just how to make that happen.
All she had to do was omit a few crucial pieces of information in the proposal to the new client, and things would definitely change. She knew the client was not a good fit for the company, but couldn’t convince Bart of it, so, she’d take things in her own hands.
And afterward, if Bart wanted her gone, so what? She already had other firms vying for her services.
Whoever said blood was thicker than had never met her family.
Chelsea swore she would gag if Bart said they had to maintain the status quo one more time. Maintaining the status quo was what got them in trouble in the first place. As far as she was concerned, they needed a major shaking up around here, and she knew just how to make that happen.
All she had to do was omit a few crucial pieces of information in the proposal to the new client, and things would definitely change. She knew the client was not a good fit for the company, but couldn’t convince Bart of it, so, she’d take things in her own hands.
And afterward, if Bart wanted her gone, so what? She already had other firms vying for her services.
Whoever said blood was thicker than had never met her family.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Choices
Long time no see! Sorry I haven't been updating the blog regularly. I'm going to try to get back to it. Here is my contribution for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week. Hope y'all like it.
Maggie was holding on to her sanity by a thread. Every second that went by, her grip lessened that much more.
She had stepped outside, hoping they would leave her alone. She should have known better. They just followed her. They were relentless.
She had to hand it to them, when they wanted something they didn’t stop until they got it. Even though she admired the trait when they employed it with others, when they turned on her, she could scream. Sometimes she did scream.
Today, she’d had about all she could take. When she removed her hands from her ears, she clinched her teeth at the noise.
“Stop!”
“OW! Mom, Stanley hit me!”
“Quit crying, you little baby.”
“If you throw that rock you’ll be sorry.”
“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?”
Throwing her hands up in the air, Maggie yelled, “Shut up!” Once assured she had their attention, she told them, “You have two choices. You can quit the fighting, shake hands and play nice, or I can get a hickory switch and tan your backsides.” She let it sink in, praying they wouldn’t call her bluff, before asking, “Which do you prefer?”
It was all she could do to keep from laughing when both children looked at her like she’d grown horns. They not only shook hands, but also gave each other a big hug, all the while promising to be good from now on.
Maggie was holding on to her sanity by a thread. Every second that went by, her grip lessened that much more.
She had stepped outside, hoping they would leave her alone. She should have known better. They just followed her. They were relentless.
She had to hand it to them, when they wanted something they didn’t stop until they got it. Even though she admired the trait when they employed it with others, when they turned on her, she could scream. Sometimes she did scream.
Today, she’d had about all she could take. When she removed her hands from her ears, she clinched her teeth at the noise.
“Stop!”
“OW! Mom, Stanley hit me!”
“Quit crying, you little baby.”
“If you throw that rock you’ll be sorry.”
“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?”
Throwing her hands up in the air, Maggie yelled, “Shut up!” Once assured she had their attention, she told them, “You have two choices. You can quit the fighting, shake hands and play nice, or I can get a hickory switch and tan your backsides.” She let it sink in, praying they wouldn’t call her bluff, before asking, “Which do you prefer?”
It was all she could do to keep from laughing when both children looked at her like she’d grown horns. They not only shook hands, but also gave each other a big hug, all the while promising to be good from now on.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Selling Out
Here is my story for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week:
“I can’t believe I just wrote that,” Val said in utter disgust after reading the last chapter of the book she’d been working on for months.
‘You can do this, Val. Slip a glittering vampire in and everybody will love it. Not every book has to be literary artwork.’
“I should have stuck to my guns and never let Abigail talk me into doing this stupid book. I know times are lean and I need some cash, but this is ridiculous!” Val muttered while gathering all the pages up to ship to her cheerleading agent.
“Abigail,” Val said when the agent answered her call. “The book is finished but I am far from happy with it.”
“What’s wrong with it?” the agent inquired.
“It’s about a glittering; weak willed, wimpy vampire is what’s wrong with it!”
Abigail sighed. Glad nothing serious was going on, she asked, “So it’s completely done and ready for me to shop it around?”
“Yes, but didn’t you hear me? It’s awful!”
“I’m sure it’s not awful, Val. You never write awful as your sales attest. You just have to write more often, which is why you did this book.”
Val knew the agent meant well but she was scared she’d lose fans by publishing this latest book. “I can’t do it, Abigail.”
“What do you mean, you can’t do it?” Abigail asked.
“I can’t put this book out there. I’m too ashamed.”
“Val, it’s just vampire fiction, not the end of the world.”
“To my fans, the fact that I dabbled in vampire fiction might lead to the end of me!” Val countered. “Mark my words, sales will go down if this book is published.”
“What was that you told me a few months ago?” Abigail teased Val. “Something about sales going down.”
Val blushed, looked around the packed auditorium at all the people waiting for her to sign a book, and finally gave her agent her due. “I bow to your wisdom, OH Great One. You were right. It seems commercial appeal is more important than literary merit these days.”
“I can’t believe I just wrote that,” Val said in utter disgust after reading the last chapter of the book she’d been working on for months.
‘You can do this, Val. Slip a glittering vampire in and everybody will love it. Not every book has to be literary artwork.’
“I should have stuck to my guns and never let Abigail talk me into doing this stupid book. I know times are lean and I need some cash, but this is ridiculous!” Val muttered while gathering all the pages up to ship to her cheerleading agent.
“Abigail,” Val said when the agent answered her call. “The book is finished but I am far from happy with it.”
“What’s wrong with it?” the agent inquired.
“It’s about a glittering; weak willed, wimpy vampire is what’s wrong with it!”
Abigail sighed. Glad nothing serious was going on, she asked, “So it’s completely done and ready for me to shop it around?”
“Yes, but didn’t you hear me? It’s awful!”
“I’m sure it’s not awful, Val. You never write awful as your sales attest. You just have to write more often, which is why you did this book.”
Val knew the agent meant well but she was scared she’d lose fans by publishing this latest book. “I can’t do it, Abigail.”
“What do you mean, you can’t do it?” Abigail asked.
“I can’t put this book out there. I’m too ashamed.”
“Val, it’s just vampire fiction, not the end of the world.”
“To my fans, the fact that I dabbled in vampire fiction might lead to the end of me!” Val countered. “Mark my words, sales will go down if this book is published.”
***
“What was that you told me a few months ago?” Abigail teased Val. “Something about sales going down.”
Val blushed, looked around the packed auditorium at all the people waiting for her to sign a book, and finally gave her agent her due. “I bow to your wisdom, OH Great One. You were right. It seems commercial appeal is more important than literary merit these days.”
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Christ Church Revival
Here is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Seems I took the whole month of November off and didn't even realize it! I have two micro pieces for this week.
Story 1:
Pastor Johnson knew that with Jesus’ help, and a little effort on his part, he could bring about the demise of evil at the Christ Church Revival this year.
Story 2:
Cathy listened to Pastor Johnson go on and on about the demise of evil. All the while, she replayed their tryst of earlier in her mind. She knew, with no more effort than batting her eyelashes and licking her lips, she could make him forget the Christ Church Revival all together.
Story 1:
Pastor Johnson knew that with Jesus’ help, and a little effort on his part, he could bring about the demise of evil at the Christ Church Revival this year.
Story 2:
Cathy listened to Pastor Johnson go on and on about the demise of evil. All the while, she replayed their tryst of earlier in her mind. She knew, with no more effort than batting her eyelashes and licking her lips, she could make him forget the Christ Church Revival all together.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Living in the Moment
Here is my contribution for the Three Word Wednesday prompt. A short micro fiction piece this week.
A tremor ran through Eliza. Only a fragile thread of reality existed between sensation and the rampant descent into pure pleasure she knew was coming.
A tremor ran through Eliza. Only a fragile thread of reality existed between sensation and the rampant descent into pure pleasure she knew was coming.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Desire
I have two little micro fiction pieces for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week.
Story 1:
Ryan stopped short at Sandra’s demand. He was reconsidering his next move when he noticed the hint of sweat on her brow. As he slowly rubbed his hand across her arm, her sharp intake of breath and the sheen of lust in her eyes told him all he needed to know.
Story 2:
The sun was just a hint over the horizon but a sheen of sweat already covered Tyler’s neck. He spotted his prey when the man stepped from the bunker, and, sighting the rifle, took his shot. The feeling when the bullet struck and the man’s head flew apart satisfied some deep desire for blood lust in his soul that he refused to recognize but had to keep sating nonetheless.
Story 1:
Ryan stopped short at Sandra’s demand. He was reconsidering his next move when he noticed the hint of sweat on her brow. As he slowly rubbed his hand across her arm, her sharp intake of breath and the sheen of lust in her eyes told him all he needed to know.
Story 2:
The sun was just a hint over the horizon but a sheen of sweat already covered Tyler’s neck. He spotted his prey when the man stepped from the bunker, and, sighting the rifle, took his shot. The feeling when the bullet struck and the man’s head flew apart satisfied some deep desire for blood lust in his soul that he refused to recognize but had to keep sating nonetheless.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Paperwork
Here is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. I hope y'all enjoy it.
Nancy knew that to tamper with the paperwork would result in the imminent demise of the current administration. Still, she couldn’t in good conscience leave things the way they were.
Without intervention, the bureaucratic machine would engulf all in its path, leading to the destruction of values she had always held dear. After one last prayer, Nancy started typing the letter that would end her career, but save her soul.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Working a Room
My contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt.
Sasha knew she was in a volatile situation. She could not afford to offend the board members for fear of losing a high paying client, but she had to speak out or risk the lives of hundreds.
She knew enough of the culture to know a woman’s views weren’t highly regarded at the best of times, and a strong woman with a direct gaze would be thought rude and garish and receive no quarter whatsoever, therefore, with a demure bow of her head, Sasha began her presentation.
Sasha knew she was in a volatile situation. She could not afford to offend the board members for fear of losing a high paying client, but she had to speak out or risk the lives of hundreds.
She knew enough of the culture to know a woman’s views weren’t highly regarded at the best of times, and a strong woman with a direct gaze would be thought rude and garish and receive no quarter whatsoever, therefore, with a demure bow of her head, Sasha began her presentation.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Responsibility
Liam watched the cops drive away with his son. Tears streamed down his cheeks with the thought of all the terrible things his firstborn had done.
“Come along, Liam,” his wife prodded, grabbing his arm to lead him inside, out of view of all the neighbors who stood gawking at their pain.
After they were safely inside, Liam settled heavily into his armchair in the livingroom, lost in memories of his son’s childhood.
His wife fussed and flittered around the kitchen, dusted the livingroom and watched her favorite show on television. By ten o’clock, she’d had enough.
“Stop your moping, Liam,” she ordered. “We are not responsible for the bad choices that boy made!”
Liam knew his wife believed what she said, but she didn’t know what he knew. He assured her he would be fine, but all the while, he was hearing the words Father Sebastian had whispered when he went to him for confession last week.
“The sins of the father…”
“Come along, Liam,” his wife prodded, grabbing his arm to lead him inside, out of view of all the neighbors who stood gawking at their pain.
After they were safely inside, Liam settled heavily into his armchair in the livingroom, lost in memories of his son’s childhood.
His wife fussed and flittered around the kitchen, dusted the livingroom and watched her favorite show on television. By ten o’clock, she’d had enough.
“Stop your moping, Liam,” she ordered. “We are not responsible for the bad choices that boy made!”
Liam knew his wife believed what she said, but she didn’t know what he knew. He assured her he would be fine, but all the while, he was hearing the words Father Sebastian had whispered when he went to him for confession last week.
“The sins of the father…”
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Indulgence
Here are my contributions for the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. I put three up this time cause they are all short micro fiction pieces.
Story #1
Carl knew if he plied his robust charm, he would soon feast on the delectable Katherine.
Story #2
The feast was robust and James enjoyed it greatly. Some would say too greatly, because no matter his charm, broccoli in his teeth and ketchup on his tie were going to ensure he left the party alone.
Story #3
Marcus had a robust appetite. His mouth watered at sight of the feast laid before him. He knew if he played his cards right, he could charm the pants off anyone, and he planned to do just that to the delectable Stella who smiled up at him from the beach blanket she’d brought and stretched out for them.
Story #1
Carl knew if he plied his robust charm, he would soon feast on the delectable Katherine.
Story #2
The feast was robust and James enjoyed it greatly. Some would say too greatly, because no matter his charm, broccoli in his teeth and ketchup on his tie were going to ensure he left the party alone.
Story #3
Marcus had a robust appetite. His mouth watered at sight of the feast laid before him. He knew if he played his cards right, he could charm the pants off anyone, and he planned to do just that to the delectable Stella who smiled up at him from the beach blanket she’d brought and stretched out for them.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Breaking the Ice
Here is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week.
Thomas knew he had to break the tension hiding under the surface of all the false pleasantry filling the room. If they never got it out in the open, all the negative energy would eat them alive, and that was no way for family to live.
“I’m telling you, John tripped Kevin,” Thomas spoke into the uneasy silence that had settled over the room, and then sat back and smiled while his family fought over who really won the flag football game earlier, knowing there was no better way to get his family back on track than with a good fight.
Thomas knew he had to break the tension hiding under the surface of all the false pleasantry filling the room. If they never got it out in the open, all the negative energy would eat them alive, and that was no way for family to live.
“I’m telling you, John tripped Kevin,” Thomas spoke into the uneasy silence that had settled over the room, and then sat back and smiled while his family fought over who really won the flag football game earlier, knowing there was no better way to get his family back on track than with a good fight.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Prayers
Here are my contributions to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. Couldn't decide which one I liked best so posting them both.
Story 1
Joy knew if she could only abstain a few more months, until she and Todd exchanged vows, her halo would await in Heaven. The only problem was it was getting harder and harder to do. Every time Todd pulled her close and kissed her tenderly, passions ran wild.
Spying that certain twinkle in the love of her life’s eye tonight, Joy offered up a fervent prayer and held on for dear life, hoping God was listening because she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer without help.
Story 2
Kayla pushed the cheap plastic halo back atop her head, hoping the man she was kneeling before would finish soon. The grimy taste and sickly sweet smell was so bad Kayla gagged.
“Hail Mary, full of grace…”
The prayer caught Kayla off guard. Her usual customer was more the cussing than praying kind. When he slipped the rosary beads around her neck, she knew things were fixing to get even kinkier.
When the beads grew tighter around her neck, Kayla offered a prayer of her own, vowing to abstain from her chosen profession, go to church, help the poor…whatever it took if God would only spare her life. Unfortunately, God was not in the room that night.
Story 1
Joy knew if she could only abstain a few more months, until she and Todd exchanged vows, her halo would await in Heaven. The only problem was it was getting harder and harder to do. Every time Todd pulled her close and kissed her tenderly, passions ran wild.
Spying that certain twinkle in the love of her life’s eye tonight, Joy offered up a fervent prayer and held on for dear life, hoping God was listening because she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer without help.
Story 2
Kayla pushed the cheap plastic halo back atop her head, hoping the man she was kneeling before would finish soon. The grimy taste and sickly sweet smell was so bad Kayla gagged.
“Hail Mary, full of grace…”
The prayer caught Kayla off guard. Her usual customer was more the cussing than praying kind. When he slipped the rosary beads around her neck, she knew things were fixing to get even kinkier.
When the beads grew tighter around her neck, Kayla offered a prayer of her own, vowing to abstain from her chosen profession, go to church, help the poor…whatever it took if God would only spare her life. Unfortunately, God was not in the room that night.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Small Cases
Here is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Hope y'all like it!
The terrible grimace on the girls’ face signified the end was very unpleasant. Even seasoned homicide detectives such as the two standing over the body were sickened when dealing with crimes like these.
“She didn’t even have a chance,” Gregor muttered, rubbing a weary hand on the back of his neck.
“None of them did,” his partner replied as he tried to push the images of the broken bodies of three other little girls they’d found out of his mind and concentrate on the one in front of him.
Both detectives moved out of the way when the coroner arrived and watched as the next phase of the investigation got underway. They knew crucial evidence was often found on a victim’s body and they definitely needed some evidence in this case. So far, the detectives had no leads and time was running out. Both were all too aware another attack was due any day now because this particular subject killed a different little girl each week.
“See anything that might help us, Doc?” Gregor asked, desperately hoping the bastard had finally left a clue, any clue that would offer a break in the case.
The coroner shook his head. “Nothing yet, Bart. I’ll know more after the full autopsy.”
Gregor and his partner knew the autopsy would be pushed to the front of the line. These killings were too close to home. All the girls lived within 2 miles of the station house, as if the killer were taunting law enforcement, daring them to find him. The fact that all the girls were under four added fuel to the fire and ensured the mayor, commissioner and every cop on the force wanted the case solved yesterday.
“Detective Gregor,” one of the deputies whispered and motioned for him to follow him outside.
“Yes, deputy?” Gregor asked when he and his partner stepped out the door.
“Another girl’s been found.”
“Shit!” Gregor roared.
“He’s testing us,” his partner added. “He usually hides the bodies well enough we don’t find them for a few days. He wants us to catch him.”
“I wish he’d just turn his sorry ass in then!” Gregor snapped before asking the address for the newest girl.
“1243 Center St.,” the deputy replied.
“No!” Gregor’s partner screamed and started running.
Gregor watched his partner stumble and then right himself as the rushed for their car. Yelling for the deputy to send every available unit, he chased after his partner. He reached him just as the man started to get behind the wheel.
“I’ll drive,” he told the distraught man.
His partner raced around the car and jumped in as Gregor squealed the tires and headed out.
“We shoulda caught the son of a bitch by now. I could have stopped it. I’m gonna kill him with my bare hands.”
Gregor let his partner ramble on, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease the pain. He just floored the car and raced toward 1243 Center St., where the man’s ex-wife and three-year-old daughter lived.
The terrible grimace on the girls’ face signified the end was very unpleasant. Even seasoned homicide detectives such as the two standing over the body were sickened when dealing with crimes like these.
“She didn’t even have a chance,” Gregor muttered, rubbing a weary hand on the back of his neck.
“None of them did,” his partner replied as he tried to push the images of the broken bodies of three other little girls they’d found out of his mind and concentrate on the one in front of him.
Both detectives moved out of the way when the coroner arrived and watched as the next phase of the investigation got underway. They knew crucial evidence was often found on a victim’s body and they definitely needed some evidence in this case. So far, the detectives had no leads and time was running out. Both were all too aware another attack was due any day now because this particular subject killed a different little girl each week.
“See anything that might help us, Doc?” Gregor asked, desperately hoping the bastard had finally left a clue, any clue that would offer a break in the case.
The coroner shook his head. “Nothing yet, Bart. I’ll know more after the full autopsy.”
Gregor and his partner knew the autopsy would be pushed to the front of the line. These killings were too close to home. All the girls lived within 2 miles of the station house, as if the killer were taunting law enforcement, daring them to find him. The fact that all the girls were under four added fuel to the fire and ensured the mayor, commissioner and every cop on the force wanted the case solved yesterday.
“Detective Gregor,” one of the deputies whispered and motioned for him to follow him outside.
“Yes, deputy?” Gregor asked when he and his partner stepped out the door.
“Another girl’s been found.”
“Shit!” Gregor roared.
“He’s testing us,” his partner added. “He usually hides the bodies well enough we don’t find them for a few days. He wants us to catch him.”
“I wish he’d just turn his sorry ass in then!” Gregor snapped before asking the address for the newest girl.
“1243 Center St.,” the deputy replied.
“No!” Gregor’s partner screamed and started running.
Gregor watched his partner stumble and then right himself as the rushed for their car. Yelling for the deputy to send every available unit, he chased after his partner. He reached him just as the man started to get behind the wheel.
“I’ll drive,” he told the distraught man.
His partner raced around the car and jumped in as Gregor squealed the tires and headed out.
“We shoulda caught the son of a bitch by now. I could have stopped it. I’m gonna kill him with my bare hands.”
Gregor let his partner ramble on, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease the pain. He just floored the car and raced toward 1243 Center St., where the man’s ex-wife and three-year-old daughter lived.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Broken
Here's my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Been a few weeks since I participated. Hope y'all like this one.
Grimacing, Jane picked up her drink and gulped it down, relishing the slow burn despite herself. Her last feeble attempt at sobriety had lasted forty-eight hours. Forty-eight of the longest hours Jane had ever lived through.
Disgusted with herself, she surveyed her fellow drunks. You couldn’t call them anything else because only true drunks were still at the bar come three in the morning. Jane knew this from experience. She’d been a drunk since seventeen. She had figured out way back then that drinking numbed the pain, and her stepfather doled out plenty of pain to numb.
Once her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she spotted him. Jane always wanted someone to commiserate with when she drank. She sauntered over to his table and pulled a chair out. The man regarded her coolly, decided he liked what he saw and ordered her another drink.
Jane smiled and winked at him, pleased to note the blush it brought to his cheeks. She may not know how long she’d go without a drink from day to day or where the rent money was coming from, but one thing Jane could predict with certainty, was that she’d never go home alone. After all, her stepfather always said she was too pretty for her own good.
Grimacing, Jane picked up her drink and gulped it down, relishing the slow burn despite herself. Her last feeble attempt at sobriety had lasted forty-eight hours. Forty-eight of the longest hours Jane had ever lived through.
Disgusted with herself, she surveyed her fellow drunks. You couldn’t call them anything else because only true drunks were still at the bar come three in the morning. Jane knew this from experience. She’d been a drunk since seventeen. She had figured out way back then that drinking numbed the pain, and her stepfather doled out plenty of pain to numb.
Once her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she spotted him. Jane always wanted someone to commiserate with when she drank. She sauntered over to his table and pulled a chair out. The man regarded her coolly, decided he liked what he saw and ordered her another drink.
Jane smiled and winked at him, pleased to note the blush it brought to his cheeks. She may not know how long she’d go without a drink from day to day or where the rent money was coming from, but one thing Jane could predict with certainty, was that she’d never go home alone. After all, her stepfather always said she was too pretty for her own good.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Progress
Here's my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Not my usual work, but still a violent concept in it's own right.
The rumble of machinery, fading into the distance, mingled with the settling dust to erase all trace of the meadow that had once brightened the landscape.
The rumble of machinery, fading into the distance, mingled with the settling dust to erase all trace of the meadow that had once brightened the landscape.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Looking on the Bright Side
My contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week.
“I’ve got a theory,” Jake informed Miles.
“I’m open to anything at this point,” Miles replied, trying once more to move the boulder blocking their exit. “This thing just won’t budge.”
“You see that faint light coming from the first opening on the right?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“If there’s light, there’s a way out.”
“There could also be bears,” Miles replied, remembering all the shows he’d watched on Discovery Channel of people mauled by the grizzly creatures.
“If a bear was in here he’d have eaten us already,” Jake pointed out. “We’ve certainly been making enough noise.”
“True,” Miles agreed, peering into the dark tunnel the light was coming from. “Let’s go for it. What do we have to lose,” he added, walking forward.
Jake followed and the pair slowly made their way toward the small beacon of light. After a few minutes, they came upon a chamber.
“Any other ideas?” Miles asked, staring up thirty feet at a gaping hole, the source of the much sought after light.
“Ready to see just how nimble you are?” Jake replied, placing his left food on a protruding rock and securing handholds.
“I’ve got a theory,” Jake informed Miles.
“I’m open to anything at this point,” Miles replied, trying once more to move the boulder blocking their exit. “This thing just won’t budge.”
“You see that faint light coming from the first opening on the right?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“If there’s light, there’s a way out.”
“There could also be bears,” Miles replied, remembering all the shows he’d watched on Discovery Channel of people mauled by the grizzly creatures.
“If a bear was in here he’d have eaten us already,” Jake pointed out. “We’ve certainly been making enough noise.”
“True,” Miles agreed, peering into the dark tunnel the light was coming from. “Let’s go for it. What do we have to lose,” he added, walking forward.
Jake followed and the pair slowly made their way toward the small beacon of light. After a few minutes, they came upon a chamber.
“Any other ideas?” Miles asked, staring up thirty feet at a gaping hole, the source of the much sought after light.
“Ready to see just how nimble you are?” Jake replied, placing his left food on a protruding rock and securing handholds.
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