Friday, February 5, 2016

The Only Answer

This weeks  100 Word Challenge word is 'idea'.  

Toss and turn. Turn and toss. My head just wouldn’t let go. 

A senseless exercise, I couldn’t change the past. All the should haves and could haves, too late.

The moon rose, the moon set. 

At sunrise I dragged my weary body out of bed and trudged blindly for the coffee maker.

It was over that first cup that an idea began to form. 

With shaking hands I grabbed the phone and put my plan into motion. 

When you said hello I rushed into it, “Don’t hang up! I have to tell you something.”

“Ok, what?” you snarled.

“I’m sorry.”

Eight More to Go

Can you stand another tale of Joe and Charlie, the two slightly inept demon's? I just can't help myself sometimes
Linked up with Coldly Calculating at Our Write Side
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“Where we going Joe?”

“Home Charlie, the Boss finally got us outta that witches nest, and I need a break.”

“So…what're we doing in limbo land?”

“What? What are you talking about”? Joe looked around. His partner was right, the land was hazy and soft, no recognizable landmarks. “Oh man. This just isn’t right.”

“You're tellin’ me! I didn’t like this place the first time, it ain't got no better.” Charlie stumbled over a step hidden in the gray swirl that flowed through the landscape in random patterns.

Joe tried to remember the first time he was stuck here. It had taken forever to get out. As his memories coalesced, his eyes widened. “Charlie, you remember where we came in?”

“No, I’m just lookin’ for a way out.”

“Don't look too hard Charlie,” Joe backed up, he peered through the fog looking for the door he’d just entered.

“Uh, why?” Charlie stopped exploring and edged closer to Joe.

“Do you remember what happened when you found your way ‘out’ the first time?”

“Um, let me see, I found a key somewheres, then tripped a dozen times on all this crap laying around. Busted my snout more than once.” Charlie had a bad habit of reliving his memories while he talked, “Ow! Dammit! Just like that,” he said as he pushed himself off the ground.

“Hey! Look Joe, I found the key!” 

“No Charlie! Throw it away! We don’t want the key!”


Before Joe could grab the key and throw it, a doorway gleamed red-gold two yards from them. “Oh no.”

“There Joe, just like last time, the way out!”

Joe rolled his eyes, “Charlie, that’s not the way out.”

“It’s not?”

Joe walked toward the door, resigned to the inevitable. The Boss was evidently still mad at them. 

“No Charlie, it’s the way in. This is limbo?”


Joe just sighed. 

“Oh. OH!, Joe I don’t wanna!” Charlie wailed.

Joe grabbed Charlie's arm and pulled him forward. “C’mon. No going back, which one’s next? Do you remember? Lust or gluttony?”

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

After Shock

Living alone means you always know where your things are. There’s no one to put the sugar on the wrong shelf. Nobody to fold the kitchen towels, then stack them in the linen closet. Or, leave every light on in the house.

Living alone simplifies everything. No opposition when picking a movie. Meals made easier with only one set of taste buds to consider. 

Daily routines are never compromised by the needs of another. 

Then one day you stand motionless in the middle of a room and realize you’ve lost your way. It’s such an odd thing to lose. 

Why is the daily routine so important? You have no schedule to follow, no reason to have lunch exactly at noon. Or supper at six. 

Is it truly necessary to get out of bed by seven? Is it necessary to get out of bed at all? 

Old habits keep you moving. Hunger pangs remind you to throw a plastic tray into the microwave. 

The dark tells you it’s time to go to bed. The sun insists it’s time to rise.

One day you find you’ve lost your voice. It’s such an odd thing to lose.

Good morning no longer falls from your smiling lips. No one asks what you want to do today.

You look in the mirror at eyes that cried through the night while you slept. The lips in the reflection no longer to smile at you. 

The silence of the house surrounds you. Every movement you make echoes through the empty rooms that used to be your home.

Finally, you just lose it.

It, is such an odd thing to lose.

Where's the Cheese?

“Where is the damn cheese?”

The cat replies with a knowing wink before slipping away to its feline agenda.

A glance at the dog provides no answer.

Then a blur of gray crosses the floor.



Guess who stole the cheddar.

Saturday, January 30, 2016


100 Word ChallengeI'm joining Tara on her inaugural hosting of  the 100 Word Challenge. I think I've missed writing within a specific word count. 

The cellar never bothered her. She wasn’t one to be spooked by dark corners or the peculiar smell of damp dirt. It was the perfect environment for jars of fruits and vegetables preserved for winter use. 

Recently, the trips left her rattled. Small noises emanating from the dark corners. The smell of damp dirt becoming more foul than peculiar.

She stubbornly shook off the idea she was being watched. 

She ignored the tingles down her spine, the raised hair at her nape.

Until she saw the eyes glowing from the dark corner. And the long claws scratching in the dirt.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Running Free

Another stab at Master Class Monday at Our Write Side
Master Class Featured Image

Fiona ran through the forest. A stark landscape of naked trees and fresh snowfall kept her within full view of her pursuers. Her breath blew  puffs of steam as her feet crunched the ice crusted snow. She didn’t dare look behind her. If she could see their eyes she knew it was the end of her run. 

Her feet were numb, the boots not tall enough to keep the snow from soaking her socks. Bushes and fallen branches conspired to throw Fiona to the ground. Fear was her friend, it gave adrenal fueled strength to her tiring legs. But fear couldn’t change the landscape.

While Fiona scanned the ground in front of her, she failed to mark the sudden end of the tree-line. She tumbled down a steep bank and hit the frozen river hard. Scrambling on the icy surface, she regained her feet. Finally, she turned to look behind.

Most of  the hunting party stood at the top of the bank. Two of their number carefully descended to the river’s edge and tested the footing before moving toward her. 

She uttered a hopeless moan, then turned toward the opposite bank. She moved her feet in an awkward sliding run as the watchers laughed at her attempt to elude them. The two behind her didn’t move any faster. As she crossed the center she glanced between her feet and gasped at the view of running water only inches below the ice. 

A groan sounded from beneath, ending her wide eyed stare and she pushed her body forward. Fiona threw herself across the ice as an ear shattering crack echoed along the river. The treacherous heaving of the failing ice propelled her forward. The water roared as the river broke through the frozen blanket. She raced the free flowing water across the ice. The small floe she stood upon tilted back toward the frigid depths. In terror she thrust her arms forward, grasping for a miracle, and found a low-hanging branch. She gripped the rough bark and dragged herself up the empty bank.

Over the sound of the rushing water she heard the screams of the pair that had followed her. Their cries punctuated by fainter curses from the other bank. She looked back as the river embraced the men and carried them downstream. She met the eyes of their captain across the gap, felt the hatred sharp as a physical blow. 

Panting with exhaustion, Fiona broke the gaze and ran into the next forest of naked trees and fresh fallen snow.

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Cause Way

She hesitated before she left the bridge a second time. 

The first crossing had led to her destiny. A lifetime of rigorous physical training and endless mental preparation culminated in this second crossing. 

One last step unleashed her upon an unsuspecting world.