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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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…”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Abandon all Hope

I put together 3 different micro fiction pieces for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week. I hope y'all like at least one of them!

#1
Frankie noticed with frustration the gradual abandonment of precise, surgical cuts in favor of larger, haphazard gashes the assailant had left on the body that signified they would have caught the bastard in the act if not for the afternoon traffic snarl on Fifth.

#2
The gradual abandonment of moral values led the small town to accept into their midst the precise monster stauncher proponents of strict rules of propriety would have stopped in his tracks. The rise in revenue kept him there.

#3
A gradual, precise technique wrought specific, trusted results. Unfortunately, scientists in the Omnicore Lab had been told to speed things up, abandon normal protocols and get the product to market. Sam Grimes, one such scientist, watched in horror as the local news reported yet another breakout of a disease of unknown origin in the BellsTown high school. Shakily raising his hand, he cocked the gun and said one last prayer, ending the torture, unable to watch one more child die in the name of expediency.

Up in Smoke

This is my micro fiction entry for the Three Word Wednesday prompt.



Jared knew to pacify the demons he would have to do it again. He didn’t want to. Dread filled him at the thought, but he knew he had no other choice. He couldn’t fight it any longer. Fingers shaking, he lit the cigarette, his fragile grasp on willpower broken.

Dying...Almost

My story for the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Actually a little long for me this time!


“It’s a strange thing really, dying,” Renee whispered. “You feel almost weightless, the fear suddenly stops and you’re just sorta floating there in your body, although you aren’t really, you know, nobody can really float.”

She paused to swat a fly she could no longer ignore before continuing, “Thought I’d be done with flies after I died. I had enough of flies living in the alley, what with all the moldy food lying around. But then again, I didn’t die, did I?” she shrugged at the officer who had saved her life at the last moment. Rubbing the red welts around her throat, she then whispered, “Officer, do you think there are flies in Heaven?”

Bending closer to hear her clearly, and not certain what to say, the officer replied, “I’m not sure, Ma’am, but if they are I’m sure they don’t bother anyone.”

The slap of her hand hitting the bedside table startled the young officer so much he yelped and staggered backward, bumping into a nurse who had just entered to take vital signs.

“That’ll be nice,” Renee whispered, wiping her hand on the sheet, oblivious to the scare she’d given the man. “When I do really get there.”

Faceless

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



Michael found it easy to negotiate the ebb and flow. He was just another random commuter, busy getting from one place to another. No one paid any attention when he dropped the paper bag, not, that is, until the explosion later that night. By that time, Michael was safely back home, watching events unfold on television like the rest of the world.

You can't win them all

I did two micro fiction stories for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week. I couldn't decide which one I liked best.


Randy had a hunch his sacrifice wasn’t going to be given much consideration when Mark snapped a caustic, “Will you hurry the hell up, they’ll be home before we get done,” while sitting on top of the ledge, the impression from his boot heel permanently engraved on Randy’s head.



Shelly hunched her shoulders and rushed forward, knocking the man holding her hostage into a table holding beakers full of caustic substances. Twitching on the floor, secure in the knowledge security precautions had put the entire facility into lockdown, she watched the man jerk, blood seeping from his nose and ears as he inhaled his last breath and knew her sacrifice had been worth it.

Dissatisfaction

This week's Three Word Wednesday micro fiction piece:


Mac pushed the shard deeper into Jenkins chest. Once the twitching and moaning stopped, he checked for a pulse. Satisfied the man was dead, he heaved a weary sigh, collected all his tools and left, hoping the next assignment would offer at least a glimmer of excitement or he feared his heart was going to stop beating too.

Disguise

Here's my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt.


Teri had to modify the mutinous expression she wore that held secrets to the pain she was soon going to inflict, drop a veil over her real feelings and smile like the obedient little wife she was supposed to be.

Playing the Hand You're Dealt

Here's my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. Hope y'all enjoy it.


Trixie leaned forward, made the necessary adjustments, stood up and checked herself in the storefront window. A little tease here, a little fluff there and she was all set. Heading down the sidewalk, she frowned at Baby, all overflowing from the bustier she wore every night. She never has to worry that she won’t generate enough money to pay Buff and the rent, Trixie silently vented, standing up straighter to amplify the meager endowments she’d been blessed with.

A wolf whistle sliced the air and Trixie sauntered over, propped herself in the window and began negations. I guess some guys still ascribe to the saying that more than a mouthful is too much, she thought, forcing a smile.

False Fricassee

My micro fiction piece for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week. More lighthearted than usual, but I hope y'all enjoy it.



Celeste took a ragged breath. Squaring her shoulders, she began to tidy up. Hearing the doorbell, she admired her reflection in the mirrored surface of the oven. Blowing herself a kiss, she headed to open the door for a night she was sure would be the beginning of something wonderful, not aware of the pending disaster that would occur if her guest, renowned chef Pierre Blush, noticed the takeout box peaking from the trash bin.

Reaction

This is my contribution for the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Micro fiction piece this week. Hope y'all like it.


In her rare lucid moments, between the alcohol binges and crying jags, Sandra knew she should push her righteous indignation aside and salvage what was left of her marriage. Unfortunately for Mark, who was staring down the barrel of a .45, tonight was not one of those moments.

Pain

My contribution to the Simply Snickers poetry prompt for the week.


Sadness surrounds the soul
Hues of pain…purples, greens and blues
Mindless emotion controls
No energy left to choose

Deadly Consequences

This is a story I wrote for Sevastian's Short Story Thursday contest on facebook. I hope y'all enjoy it.



Jake Everson woke up one day in St. Barts and picked up the newspaper to discover he'd died that morning in Spain. He chuckled softly, burrowing deep into the covers and continued to read of his demise.

“At least I made the front page,” he snickered, reading about the accident that had supposedly taken not only his life, but the life of his wife Marie as well. His smile widened when he read about the injuries Marie had suffered. “Serves the bitch right,” he muttered, rereading the part about the skin being scorched off her face in the blaze. “Now both of her faces are gone.”

Putting the paper down, he swung his feet over the side of the bed and stretched. The sun shining through the windows sent a surge through him, reminding him of the engagement he had at noon. Pushing to his feet, he headed to the shower, whistling all the way.

He couldn’t help but congratulate himself on a job well done while soaping up. Marie thought she was so smart, he mused, cheating on me with that bastard James. And James, pretending to be my best friend. Guess he wishes he’d dicked around with another man’s wife now.

While dressing, Jake thought back to the encounter last night with James and Marie. He’d walked in on them, slap dab in the middle of a secret rendezvous. He let James thrust a few more times before making his presence known by pushing the barrel of his 9mm into the small of the man’s back. He laughed aloud, remembering the expressions on their faces.

They had stumbled over each other trying to explain. As if I didn’t have eyes, he thought, disgusted all over again. I played my part well though. The distraught husband, bawling over an unfaithful wife and the lies of a friend. I can’t believe they bought the shit I was spewing.

Jake shook his head, confounded at the stupidity of some people. Although, in this case, their stupidity had worked in his favor. He remembered how hard it was to contain a smile while screaming for the pair to get out of his sight, waving the gun wildly to make sure they complied.

After they left, he got the bags he’d packed earlier and headed to the airport, thanking his lucky stars he knew some unsavory types who were able to secure a fake passport for him. He couldn’t believe Marie had had the nerve to judge the clients he worked with, all the while slapping uglies with James. She always thought she was so smart, right until the end.

He wished he could have seen the look on their faces when they realized the brakes weren’t working. The paper had talked about the swerve marks on the road and the chipped off rock faces along the route the car had taken before busting through the guardrail and crashing in the cavern below.

Jake hadn’t been worried about the outcome. The road leading from their house to the bottom of the hill was one curve after another and steep as hell. Without brakes, there was no other way a car could end up but at the bottom of the cavern. The jug of gasoline he’d put in the trunk before going into the house to confront the bastards was just the icing on the cake. He had admired the fire that lit the night sky on his way past the carnage.

Pulling into the parking lot of an upscale hotel, Jake checked his hair and straightened his tie. He knew the authorities might eventually figure out it wasn’t him in the wreck, if they found the cut brake line, but, in his line of business they’d just assume a disgruntled client was responsible and might not even check DNA on the bodies, instead, just chalk it up to business as usual.

Spotting Julia across the restaurant, he smiled and decided the risk was worth it. Her beauty lit up the room and he was sure it would look even better on the beach in whatever out-of-the-way destination they picked to retire to. They’d be long gone before the police even thought to look their way.

“Hello, Beautiful,” he offered, kissing Julia on the cheek.

“Hello, yourself,” she replied, beaming up at him. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”

After sitting down, Jake laughed, picked her hand up off the table and held it. “What can I say? I’m sitting with a gorgeous lady, in a five-star restaurant in one of the most beautiful places on earth.”

Julia laughed, “Oh, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with these, huh?” she asked, passing two airline tickets across the table.

Jake looked at the tickets and whistled, “First class.”

James’s wife smiled sweetly, replied, “James only buys the best,” and toasted Jake with her champagne glass.

Seeing Yourself Clearly

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



“You shouldn’t be worrying with breakfast,” Tyler said, kissing his mother on the cheek and squeezing her arm in reassurance. “We can fend for ourselves.”

“I know you can, dear, but I need something to do,” she replied, wiping a tear from her eye. “I have to stay busy.”

“I understand. It was always that way,” Tyler agreed, remembering other breakfasts during times of crisis, with his mother working furiously at the stove, taking care of everyone else. “But this time is different.”

“We all grieve in our own way, Tyler.”

He knew that tone of voice. His mother was telling him to back off in her own unique way. Tyler couldn’t remember a time in his life when his mother wasn’t a beacon of strength. Everyone thought his father kept the family together, but Tyler knew different. He knew if the roles were reversed, and his father was here today instead of his mother, the whole clan would unravel at the seams.

“Uncle Tyler! Uncle Tyler!”

“Hey, buddy,” Tyler replied, scooping his four-year old nephew up in a bear hug. “What’s up?”

“Will you play outside with us? Everybody else is too busy.”

“Well, buddy, I don’t know,” Tyler said, watching his sisters walk into the room, eyes red-rimmed. “I think your mommy might need me.”

“Eva, Cheryl,” Tyler greeted them. “How are you two holding up?”

“As well as can be expected, I guess,” Eva replied, choking up.

Tyler crossed the room and took her in his arms. “We’ll make it through this, Sis. It won’t be easy, but we will. Dad would want us to.”

Cheryl patted his cheek, said, “You and mom, we always know we can count on you. Kindred spirits, responsible for taking care of the rest of us.”

Tyler smiled sheepishly, glancing at his mom serving up the eggs, realizing for the first time that he was his mother’s son.

Splishing and Splashing

"Come on, Granny!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Granny laughed, not minding the incessant pulling on her hand.

"I wanna turn the water on," Maggie said, rushing to the faucet, tripping over the hose in the process. Picking herself up and brushing her knees off, she continued undeterred. A little fall wasn't about to keep Maggie out of the pool today. She had been waiting all week for the rain to
so she could splash in the little pink pool Granny had bought.

"Are you okay?" Granny asked.

"I'm okay," Maggie assured her, turning toward the house to hide the trickle of blood seeping down her skinned knee.

Read more here...

Love is Blind

Blinded by love, one eyeball plucked out at a time.

Til Death do Us Part

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony," the preacher intoned, gazing around the church, smiling at familiar faces.

Both families had been coming to services at the church for years so the preacher was overjoyed to be uniting them through the marriage of the two youngest members of each group. He remembered the night four years ago when he pronounced to his wife his certainty the two would wed. He had spied a smoldering glance from Tom and watched Irene's face flame red. He knew then it was only a matter of time.

Read more here...you might be surprised!

The First Time

“Here, let me help.”

“I can do it.”

“I can help hold it.”

“I said I can do it!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t think you’re doing it right.”

“Hold on a minute, I’ll get it.”

“Ouch! That hurt!”

“Sorry, baby, I’m trying.”

“Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“No.”

“What!”

“I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

“Maybe you should have asked someone how to do it.”

“I am not asking someone how to do this. I’ll figure it out.”

“How long will it take? I’m ready!”

“If you’d be still, it’d go a lot faster.”

“I’m trying to be still, but it hurts!”

“There, I think I’ve got it.”

“It’s crooked!”

“So?”

“Daddy! I can’t go to school with a crooked ponytail!”

Christmas Wishes

Ok, this is the last of the stories I needed to catch up on the Your Photo Story prompt blog. I hope y'all enjoy this one. Thought it was appropriate to do a seasonal piece.



Charlie stared at the Christmas tree, tears streaming down his cheeks. Carla watched him, not sure how to fix things. That no good bastard could have at least stopped by here on his way to visit The Whore, she thought, twisting the phone cord in her hand savagely. She had been trying to reach Steve for two hours with no luck.

“What was that you said, honey?” she asked Charlie, not catching his whisper.

Wiping a tear, he said, “Nothing, Mom, I was talking to Santa.”

Carla sighed, knowing he was asking Santa to send his dad home for Christmas again. He’d ask the same thing of every Santa they saw in the mall and on TV. She had found it was hard to explain to a six year old that Santa couldn’t always deliver what you wanted. He was insistent Santa would come through because he always got the gifts he wanted each year.

A terrific noise outside drew their attention. “What the hell?” Carla wondered, stepping in front of Charlie who was reaching to open the front door. “Let me go first, honey.”

Carla inched the door open slowly, peeking around the corner. “Shit!” she muttered, spying her ex-husband sprawled on the front porch, passed out cold.

“Dad!” Charlie shouted and rushed around her, stooping at his father’s side.

Carla knelt also, trying to figure out how she was going to get Steve inside, when Charlie spoke, mischief lighting his eyes. “I guess dad couldn’t handle riding in Santa’s sleigh.”

Horse Play

I'm cacthing up on the prompts for the Your Photo Story blog. Here is my second story of the day:


“Have you ever wondered what they’re thinking?” Terrie asked Barbra, looking deep into the horse’s eyes.

“I know what this one is thinking,” Barbra replied with authority.

“Yeah, sure, you think you know everything.”

“I’ll bet you ten dollars I know what this horse wants,” Barbra offered.

Terrie contemplated her friend. Barbra did have a habit of thinking she knew everything about everything, which was very annoying. Terrie didn’t want to part with ten dollars, but didn’t see how Barbra could possibly know what the horse wanted, and she would love to see her eat crow for once. Digging in her pocket, she pulled out the betting money and said, “you’re on.”

Barbra stepped around Terrie and said, “He wants a carrot.”

Terrie asked, “How could you possibly know that? Do you speak horse,” she teased, hearing the horse whinny at Barbra.

Pulling the hand she had concealed behind her back to the front, Barbra answered, “No, I just know he sure was eyeing this carrot hungrily before you got here,” before snatching the ten from Terrie’s hand, and laughing her head off.

Getting What is Least Expected

This is a story for the Your Photo Story prompt site. I hope y'all enjoy it.




“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” Sheila screamed over the roar of the engines. “Who jumps out of a perfectly good airplane?” She asked, fingers tightening on the edges of the door, holding on for dear life.

“People who want more out of life than the boring ordinary,” Clint replied, strapped into the tandem chute at her back. “Now relax and push off. I’m right here with you. It’s going to be fine.”

Sheila didn’t believe him for a minute. She had been tricked into this adventure. Well, not exactly tricked, she admitted, but it was definitely underhanded. When she gave him the ticket for one day of whatever he wanted for his birthday, she sure didn’t imagine it would be 2,000 feet in the air.

At Clint’s not -so-subtle nudge, she took a deep breath and pushed out of the plane.
Screaming at the top of her lungs, she shut her eyes tightly and waited for death.

“Open your eyes,” Clint ordered.

“No!”

“Come on,” he laughed, “you won’t regret it.”

Sheila peeked with one eye and what she saw took her breath away. Opening both eyes wide, she took in the vista laid out in patchwork below them.

“It’s beautiful,” she shouted.

“Now aren’t you glad you came?”

Even though she was glad, and wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Sheila wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “I’ll let you know when my feet are safely on the ground again,” she quipped, relaxing and enjoying the rest of the journey.

The Price of Beauty

This is my contribution to this weeks Three Word Wednesday prompt.



It was a grave offence to all things good and decent that she had to forgo the decadent chocolate éclair beckoning from the dessert tray, but offended or not, Gwyneth wanted to keep the lithe figure all the fashion magazines paid big bucks for so she squared her shoulders and ordered a bowl of strawberries instead.

Banquet for Three

This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. I haven't did the prompt in a while, but hope to get back into it. Hope y'all like this little micro-fiction piece.



Eric was enjoying a sumptuous feast of strawberries dipped in chocolate sauce, dribbling sauce in strategic places, stopping to fondle sweet tasting morsels, when a sudden kick reminded him of what happened the last time he partook of this particular feast.

Her Own Little World

Dear Mama,

I hope you’re doing better. I know the surgery was hard on you. Are they treating you ok there? I sure hope so. We are going to try to come see you this summer. I’m saving up a little money each week for the trip. I sure do miss you.

I hope you aren’t too bored there. Are you still doing arts and crafts? I loved the clay mug you sent me for Christmas. I have it sitting on the fireplace mantel for everyone to see. They all talk about how pretty it is, and how much talent you have. I told them you always loved working with your hands and making stuff. I remember the wood flower boxes we made when I was first married. I hated when they got tore up in the storm in ’93.

I hope you’re doing what the doctors say and staying off your feet. Your hip will never heal if you overdo it. If you’d quit chasing all those old guys around the halls you wouldn’t have accidents. Ha Ha I’m sure the men would be very disappointed though, if the most beautiful lady in the place stopped paying attention to them.

Everything is fine here. The kids are growing like weeds. Robbie is already as tall as I am, and Cassie is up to my chin. I’m glad they are taking height after their dad, but I do miss them being little. Before I know it, they will be grown and gone. I know what you meant now when you told me to cherish every moment so I can look back on them when the kids are gone. They have already changed so much. It about broke my heart when Robbie told me not to hug him in front of his friends anymore.

They are still enjoying school, thank goodness! I don’t know what we’d do if they hated going like some kids. Of course, they are still in grade school. I’m sure things will change once they reach high school.

Robbie was in a play last week. He was a tree. You should have seen him. He practiced standing still every day for a month. It paid off. He was the best tree ever!

Cassie wanted to water him every time he put the tree costume on. She was so cute, chasing him around the house with her little watering can. I had to break up quite a few fights…when I was able to stop laughing. Sorry, I didn’t think to take any pictures to send you.

Doug is still working at the plant. He signs up for overtime whenever they offer it, which isn’t often these days. Don’t worry though, because we are doing just fine. We have food on the table and a roof over our heads. You always taught me those were the most important things. I try to pass this along to the children when they want some new toy we can’t afford. I was worried I wasn’t getting through to them, until the other day when Cassie told me she was saving all the pennies she finds on the ground to help with the house payment. Although it broke my heart for her to know about our money problems, it made me proud to see her generosity.

You aren’t going to believe this, but I’ve started crocheting. Do you remember when I was a kid and you tried to teach me to crochet? I gave you such a hard time! I guess I just needed more patience before I could enjoy it. Now, my house is covered with things I’ve made. I’m sending you a doll. I hope you like it. I made her dress peach because I know how much you love the color. I’ve even sold a few things at the local craft fair. Any little extra bit helps.

Cassie swears she is going to learn how to do it with me. She wants to make clothes for her dolls, and for Snickers. She carries that dog around so much I’m surprised he knows he has feet! She treats him like a baby and he just eats it up. I have to admit, he looked cute in the little sunglasses she put on him the other day. She wants to dress him up like a hotdog for Halloween. I’m hoping I can talk her into something more original.

I saw Jack the other day. He only stopped by for a few minutes, but it was nice. Sherri and the kids are doing fine he said. They were all going to the mountains for the weekend. He looked good. I think being a salesman agrees with him. He said they were doing better than they have been in a long time. I sure was glad to hear it. For a while there, I thought him and Sherri weren’t going to make it. I’m glad they turned things around.

I told him he should write you more often. He promised he would. We’ll have to hold him to that promise, so you let me know if he writes or not.

He showed me pictures of Tammy and Heather. They are both so beautiful. He said he has to fight the boys off with a stick. Ha Ha He is such the proud papa when he talks about those girls. I can’t believe they’ll be graduating this year!

Time sure does fly, doesn’t it? I remember when the girls were in pigtails, rummaging in my closet to play dress up. Now, they wouldn’t be caught dead in anything I own. I’m not stylish enough for them anymore.

It seems I spend a lot of time thinking about the past these days, remembering good times we all had together. I hate we can’t all be together again. I guess that’s what happens when you get older.

Well, it’s almost suppertime, so guess I’ll end this letter. Write back soon. Take care of yourself.
I love you,
Joyce
***

“Are you writin’ your mama again, girl?”

“Yes.”

“Still makin’ up that fantasy life of yours for her?”

“Yes. I have too. Besides, it’s not all fantasy. Some of the stuff really happened,” Joyce replied.

“It ain’t right. Lyin’ to your mama that way.”

Joyce sighed. “I know it’s not right, but I can’t do anything else. She’s 85 years old. The truth would kill her. When she remembered it.”

“Maybe you ain’t givin’ her enough credit,” Betty said. “Us old broads can handle more than you youngin’s think we can.”

Joyce sighed, “Mama is nothing like you, Betty. My brother was having trouble a few years ago. He got into drugs. He was using the grocery money to buy the stuff, starving his kids. When mama found out, she went to his house and beat him with a stick broom! She chased him around that house for hours, until she passed out from her blood pressure going too high.” She smiled before continuing, “Mama always thought she could fix everything. But some things are beyond fixin’. Especially now that her health is failing and she has Alzheimer’s. She can’t even fix her own breakfast anymore, but she still thinks she’s superwoman.”

“But you didn’t do anything wrong. Your mama’s not gonna beat you with any broom for protecting yourself and them youngin’s,” Betty stated. “From the sounds of it, she’d be proud of you. Seems like you did some pretty good fixin’ of your own.”

“Well, it’s different with me. Mama is old school. She thinks a woman needs a man to take care of her. She thought Doug was the best thing since sliced bread. Once I married him, she didn’t have to worry about me anymore. I never told her things were bad. I was ashamed.”

She shook her head sadly, before continuing, “My stubborn pride is what got me into this mess. I didn’t want mama to know I made a mistake with Doug. I let her think things were perfect. She always had enough trouble with Jack. I didn’t want to add to it. I was the baby. Everything was supposed to be good for me.

“She bragged to all her friends about her son-in-law who took care of her baby girl. I don’t know how many times she told me I was lucky I didn’t have to raise my kids alone like she did.

“No, it would break her heart to hear Doug beat me every day, to find out he was a monster and she didn’t protect me,” Joyce said. “And to find out I killed him, and the kids were put in foster care. Well, her heart would plum stop beating then,” she assured Betty.

“Besides,” she shrugged. “What could she do about it anyway? She’s in a nursing home two thousand miles away. It’s not like she can come visit or anything.”

“If you told her, you could call her on the phone. They let you do collect calls here. Might help you get along better. You’re gonna be here a long time, girl. Time drags in here when you got somebody to talk to, let alone when you don’t.”

“She wouldn’t remember what I told her anyway. She lives in her own little world most of the time,” Joyce replied, wiping a tear off her cheek. “I couldn’t stand telling her what happened over and over again every time she called, tearing her world to pieces again and again,” she added.

Betty shook her head, “That Alzheimer’s is something awful, that’s for sure.”

“Yes it is,” Joyce agreed. “But in a way I’m thankful for it. Mama can go on being happy, living in her world where everything is good, not in the real world where everything is going to hell in a hand basket.”

Foggy Failings

This is my latest contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt. Added a little humor this time.



Moisture settled in shiny droplets on Kerry’s hair. Searching the fog ahead, she listened for any signs of Trey. I can’t believe he left me out here by myself, she silently fumed. I’ll make him pay for this.

The crunch of a nearby branch drew Kerry’s attention. “Trey,” she whispered, “is that you?” Walking closer, she strained to see through the murky steam. “Trey,” she tried again to no avail.

“Damn,” she muttered, tripping over a fallen tree. Righting herself, she looked up into the gaping mouth of evil.

Screaming and thrashing backward, Kerry tried to run, but the huge beast grabbed her leg and pulled her against itself. “Grrrr,” he shouted in her ear.

Kerry screamed again and then stood dumbstruck when the beast released her and laughed. Looking closely, she saw the thing was naked from the neck down. Stepping closer, she watched while the furry, beastly head was removed to reveal Trey who was laughing so hard he was grasping for breath.

“You bastard,” she hissed, slapping him.

“Come on, Ker, you have to admit it was funny,” Trey replied.

Kerry composed herself and looked down. Smirking, she answered, “The only thing funny around here is that beanie weenie hanging between your legs,” before spinning on her heels and walking away.

Trey looked down and sputtered, “It’s the fog! The cold causes shrinkage, Damnit!” before running after her, following the sound of laughter into the woods.

The Gates of Paradise

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


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

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

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

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

Sacrifice

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


“Run, children, run!”

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

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

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

The Woods

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inches

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


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

Predator

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.