Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Fifteen Minutes...or so

Although I'm in the middle of the chaos that is Nanowrimo, I couldn't resist revisiting Joe and Charlie. I hope Amanda doesn't roll her eyes too much as I used her prompt "fifteen minutes of fame" from Coldly Calculating over at Our Write Side.  

Lily had several jobs for her enthralled demons. Joe and Charlie were starting to get desperate to escape.

“How’re we gonna get outta this, Joe?”

“Shut up! Let me think.”

“You been thinkin’ for weeks.”

“You been whinin’ for weeks!”

Charlie sighed heavily, “I don’t know how much more I can take, Joe.”

“I know, Charlie, I know. Ill figure it out, I promise.”

That evening Lily summoned them for another of her little tasks, as she called them. She gleefully spelled out the directions for this latest adventure then stood grinning as the star stud in her nose whirled wildly.

“You want us to rob a bank?!? Joe was incredulous.

Charlie was merely mortified, “No no no, this is not happening, it’s a dream. A very bad dream.”

“Yes, I want you to rob a bank.” Lily giggled. “And you'll do it, not like you have a choice or anything,”

Charlie continued to mumble, “Oh man oh man. This is so embarrassing.”

“Come along, pets, to the pentagram, I need to get you delivered.”

Several candles and an incantation later, the two found themselves materializing in the empty lobby of a nearby bank.

“Why didn’t she just put us in the vault, now we have to blast it open before we can get ‘poofed’ back to prison.” Another heavy sigh and slump of shoulder and Charlie headed toward the vault, tail dragging behind.

“Charlie, hold up!”

“What Joe? I just wanna get this ov…”

“No! I got it? Look up there Charlie.”

“What? Where?”

“Up there, security cameras!”

Charlie gave Joe a sidelong glance. “We don’t show up on tape, Joe.” Charlie shook his head, he’d never expected Joe to lose it first.

“We don’t, but dancing money bags will.” Joe rubbed his clawed hands together in anticipation.

“I still don’t get how that’ll help us.”

“”Think Charlie. Bank gets ripped off. Big headline. How long before someone leaks freaky security footage to the Internet and we get our fifteen minutes of fame?”

“So dancing money ends up on the webz.” 

“Remember that time He locked us in that dressing room mirror for doing the macarena at Wally’s?” Joe grinned.

“Oh man! Don’t remind me, my eyes still burn.”

“Well, we’re gonna macarena hundred dollar bills all over the lobby!”


Three weeks later in an opulent office, a minion interrupts his employers latest deal.

“Hey, boss?”

“Really? I’m kinda busy here, Dood.”

“I know boss, but I think you wanna see this. For real.”

“Alright, be right there.” Laying aside his golden pen, he cast a stern look at his guest, “Don’t go anywhere Donald, I’ll be right back.” He turned back to Dood, “This better be worth my time or you'll be the star of next years haunted playhouse.”

His flunky pointed to a wall of screens. Each one showed a grainy video being played on assorted venues. The leaked footage was trending on twitter. It had a Facebook fan page.  It was the number one hit for Google searches of banks, hauntings, or the macarena. The news channels played it over and over.

“I think it’s them boss. But it don’t tell us where they went.”

He watched the assorted screens for several minutes before pointing at one slightly better image, “Zoom in on that one.” Leaning closer he ordered the footage stopped. “Right there. Get my coat, tell Mr. T. It’s his lucky day, I’ll catch up with him later.”

“What’d ya see boss?”

“The middle dancer, it was a peace lily.”

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Final Farewell

Another prompted piece with Master Class Monday   at Our Write Side

We sat on the shore. No moon lit the night, as we nestled against each other shivering as the lake rippled in front of us. Its wavelets invisible in the dark.

There was no where left to run. 

Our arms bruised by scraping against the trees behind us. Knees bleeding through our jeans from multiple falls while tripping through the underbrush. 

Pursuers just steps behind away.

It had begun so routinely. A night out, no celebration, just a trip for something to eat. We hadn't reached our destination when we became aware of the footsteps behind us.

We stopped to look back, nothing to be seen. The steps stopped, just like in the movies.

We’re just imagining things, we said to each other. And started on our way again.

As did the steps.

We picked up our pace from a stroll to a fast walk. Finally to a run.

There was no traffic, the light from street lamps seemed dimmer than they should have been. They gave nothing away of the beasts behind us.

We pounded on doors. Though we heard movement inside, no one answered our screams for help.

So we continued to run.

The tiny woods enclosed us before we realized it. Initial panic was relieved by the thought we could lose them in the darkness. Until the branches cracked too close behind us. 

Then came the race to escape blindly through the maze of trees.

By the time we reached the lake we understood they had just been toying with us. They could have had us at any time. 

So we sat shivering on the shore. Holding each other, we whispered tearful goodbyes.

As we waited for the opulent sunrise to burn our flesh away.

Thursday, October 22, 2015


 This little bit of whimsy was prompted by the Coldly Calculating  prompt at Our Write Side.
I really enjoy the choices they offer! 

After their near damnation experience in the last house they’d infested, Joe and Charlie were relaxing in dubious comfort in a cluttered attic.

“Joe, what you want to do next? Scratching inside the walls or opening all the cabinet doors?”

“I wanna take a break, Charlie. We got plenty of time.”

“I’m bored Joe.”  

“Jeez Charlie. Let me catch my breath.” Joe sighed deeply. “By the way, dude, you still stink of sweet grass.”

“I do not!” Charlie sniffed his arm and down the length of his tail. “Well, maybe that witch singed my tail fork when she shoved that burning bundle up the chimney after me.”

Ignoring Charlie, Joe started poking through one of the many boxes and suitcases stashed around the cramped space. Pawing through one lightly damaged trunk, he pulled out a shiny black cape.

“Look, Charlie. Halloween costumes.” Charlie joined him, grabbing a piece of fabric  

“Wow, Joe! We can use these to scare the you know who outta the family here!” Charlie draped a yellowed toga over his head. “Booooo!”

“Look what you did! You snagged it on your horns, man.” Joe grabbed garment and threw it on the growing pile of clothing. “You need to take better care those, you don’t want to end up with a hang-horn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I could polish ‘em too.” Charlie stuck his head back into the nearly empty trunk. “Hey, what’s that?” Charlie reached for a small leather covered case at the bottom. 

Joe slapped his hand, “Gimme that. I was here first.”Joe lifted the lid, the rusty hinges on the side protested only mildly. A rectangle of black velvet covered the contents. Joe unceremoniously brushed it aside. 

“Augh!” Joe dropped the case and contents back to the bottom of the trunk.

“What man!  What’s wrong.” Charlie peeked over the edge, “Holy Hell!” eyes wide, he scuttled backwards. At the bottom of the trunk, a silver handled athame lay haphazardly atop its case.

“Of all places, we wander into a nest of Wiccans.” Joe started to pace, “We need to get outta here, they figure out we’re here and who knows what kind of three ring circus they'll stir up.”

“Joe, calm down, if they was practicing, this stuff wouldn’t be up here, now would it?” Charlie looked nervously over his shoulder despite his words.

“Okay, yeah, you're probably right. They wouldn’t put something like that up here.” Joe closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to pull himself together. “We should move on anyway. Who knows what other…”

“Too late, boys.” The voice emanated form a dark shadow at the top of the attic stairs. “However you're right about the athame, there are no Wiccans practicing here. At least, not anymore. Their toys do come in handy though.” The speaker stepped forward revealing a teen-aged girl in full goth regalia. 

“It’s a great early warning system, and…led you right into our trap.” As she spoke the girl bent and poured salt before her feet.

“Trap? What trap?” Joe had been taking the measure of the youngster and was building energy for a powerful demonic counter attack.

“Look around silly. You were so interested in rummaging through the garbage you missed the pentagram.” She grinned in delight. “And I just closed it.”

Joe barely heard as he loosed a fireball. Which immediately bounced back. Charlie yelled as he ducked the blazing missile. “OhmySatanohmySatanohmySatan!”

Joe drooped, out of the frying pan into hell. “So, what now?”

“Glad you asked,” she said brightly, “I’m Lily by the way. My friends and I have a job for you. It needs done tonight, so enough with chit-chat, come along now.”

“Tonight? How did you know you'd catch a demon tonight?”

“Sillies. Who do you think called that ghost hunter to the last house.” She skipped out of the room, Joe and Charlie dragged along by her spell. “And one of you stinks.”

Charlie muttered, “I do not.” 

Monday, October 19, 2015

Mission Canceled

This time I linked up with the Coldly Calculating prompt from Our Write Side.
I may have missed the "chilling" mark, just a little. 

Joe and Charlie huddled together in the corner. Ears tuned to the distant footsteps and mutterings of their pursuers.

It seemed they’d been slipping from one hiding spot to another for hours. Scurrying from room to room trying to stay one step ahead. 

“We need to move again soon, Joe!”

“I know, man. They’re closing in again. I can smell the stink of their torches.”

The pair looked around wildly, seeking another safe place to hunker down. They stifled gags induced by the overwhelming odor of the leader’s smoking brand. Their hearts lurched as she screeched to her minions, “They’re in there! We have them now!”

With moments before the hunting party cut off their retreat, Joe and Charlie darted across the floor to the door. 

“C’mon Charlie, down these stairs. We’ll lose them in the cellar.”

Coughing through the foul haze, the escapees stumbled down the steps.

“Where to now, Joe? We’re trapped!”

“Shut up! Here get under the stairs.”

The floor boards creaked overhead. Voices filtered down, “Where’d they go? Did they get out?”

“No, they’re still here. Up to the second floor! We’ll find them, they can’t hide from us forever.” Rushing footsteps faded farther into the house.

In the ensuing silence Joe and Charlie crept out from under the stairs. Listening intently for any movement they quietly climbed the steps and peered into the empty hall.

Joe whispered, “They're on the top floor now, Charlie. I think we lost them.”

“I don’t know Joe, it still reeks down here. I don’t think we’re outta the woods yet.”

“Shh, this way, c’mon.”

They stepped cautiously into a library. Over stuffed chairs cluttered the floor. Bookcases lined all but one wall filled by a  massive fireplace.

The pair jumped in unison at the scream outside the door, “Aha! We have you now!” Pounding feet filled the room.

Charlie shrieked, “Joe! What now?” 

Joe grabbed Charlie’s arm, dragging him to the hearth. He scattered ashes as he leapt into the flue, Charlie on his heels. Reaching the top, Joe pulled himself out the chimney and onto the roof.

“Hurry Charlie!”

“I’m stuck, Joe! I cant get through!”

“Give me your hand!” Joe pulled mightily, finally freeing his partner. Charlie’s release from the chimney resulted in an audible pop. The two slid down the roof and tumbled to the lawn.

“You could use to lose some fat there, Charlie.” Joe brushed himself off then sped ahead, Charlie right behind. As they ran for the street they heard the triumphant bellow of their hunter.


Joe paused to turn around and make an obscene gesture before trotting on down the road. 

Charlie puffed to keep up, almost tripping over his forked tail. “What now, Joe?”

“I don’t know yet, Charlie. Hey! Look over there, that place looks likely!”

Charlie sighed, “Back to square one.”

Friday, October 16, 2015

Moonlight Mime

My offering for Master Class Monday, from Our Write Side

Donna couldn’t sleep. Too much on her mind. Too many decisions left undecided.

After lying awake staring into darkness, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her toes rooted about the carpet seeking her fluffy gray slippers.

Feet embraced, she shrugged into her robe and shuffled to the kitchen. As she filled a glass of water from the tap, her gaze was drawn out the window.

The meadow behind the house was aglow with silvered moonlight. Enchanted, she let herself out the back door into the early fall night. The air was crisp, but not uncomfortably so. A light breeze carrying bits of leaf and pollen became a magical shower of light as the full moon reflected from countless surfaces.

She sipped her water, eyes captured by the meadow. There, a seductive sway of moonlit foxtails allowed to grow wild through the last lazy days of summer. Bowing into shadow with each gentle breeze, springing back to bathe in the sterling light.

Donna left the glass on the deck rail and tiptoed down the steps. She crossed the manicured back lawn and into the meadow.

The breeze wafted, grass swayed, silver and ebony. A dance of light and shadow. She unconsciously began to move with them in silent rhythm. Arms outstretched, she wove through the blades. Light and shadow. Her body responding, bowing to the shadow, lifting to the light.

Her eyes closed as she mimed the shush of leaves and whisper of foxtails.

She didn’t see them gather, wings spread to the caress of breeze. Iridescent spans reflecting the luster of the full moon.

They watched, timid of her presence. Then curious. When they discerned no threat, they joined.

Weaving and bowing. Swaying and bending. Silver to ebony, moon light to moon shadow.

As the dregs of wakefulness left her, she lay down amid the grasses and let sleep claim her. They covered her against the dew in blankets woven of spiderweb and thistledown. While she slept deeper than dreams, the Fae danced guard around her.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Writers Block

Just a bit of flotsam floating in my head today.

They've been quiet today.
Why today? 

So chatty the past few months. Telling me their stories. Making sure I understood everything.

They gave specific instructions so I could write each chapter exactly as they lived them.

Today though, today they have said nothing.

I keep thinking back, did I miss some important detail? Did I did I not strike the right mood?  

Are they mad? I feel like  are ignoring me they on purpose.

Yeah, they used to get pissed off when I joined my friends for lunch, or drinks on the weekend. But, that hasn't happened for a long time now. My friends don't call anymore.

I mean, it's not like they can just grab their phones and have a chat. 

I do kinda miss those spontaneous dates.

But they said it interfered too much with telling the stories. I had to get rid of those friends.

And truth be told, I don't miss them all that much. 

Most of the time.

Except for Ginny. Her I miss.

It's particularly hard to get rid of Ginny.

The others, not so much.

Becky was so wrapped up in her kids, she was making me crazy with all the pictures and bragging. Oh my God, the bragging! You'd have thought her kids were geniuses.

Your kids aren't so special now are they, Becky?

And Robbie, constantly off on some adventure where he was the best looking, smartest, funniest...blah blah blah. Of course, all the women just fell all over him, too.

Your last adventure wasn't quite what you expected, was it Robbie? 

So, they don't call anymore

But, that was alright. They were still here to talk to me. 

I do wish they would have accepted Ginny. 

Maybe that's why I'm being ignored. They are mad because I'm still holding on to Ginny.

I bet that's it. As soon as I let go of her, I'll be on the good list again.

I'm just not ready yet. Maybe I can appease them by spiffing up their stories. After all, they want people to read them, right? 

Who shall I start with? 

Regina. She'll want everyone to understand. She never, ever really meant to hurt her kids. She just wanted to give them baths. 

Becky's kids needed baths, too. It made Regina sad how dirty they were. Just like her kids. She could never keep them clean enough. She showed me how to clean such dirty kids. It was hard, but we got it done. Made it easier when we finally made Becky shut up.

Or I could work on Clyde's story. How he accidentally pushed his best friend off a mountain in Italy. Yeah, his best friend was screwing around with his fiance, but it was still an accident.

Robbie's last adventure was in California. There are mountains there, too. Not as special as Italy, but Clyde said the mechanics are the same.  

Marty won't let me tell his story yet. He asks how can I tell the story if it isn't finished? 

Marty's story is just so hard. I mean, I got the first part right. The kidnapping was easy. And describing the choking sounds took a little work, but I got through it. The last part though, that's holding me back.

I can feel Marty giving me the stink eye. 

That's why they aren't talking to me.


I suppose I'd better oil the chain saw and dig Ginny up. Just get it done.

Then I can get busy on Jack's story. Jack's is the best of all their stories. It'll be longer than the rest. The research is gonna be exhausting, but it'll be a best seller.

They just know it.

Monday, August 31, 2015

777 Challenge

I have been tagged by Amanda N. Butler for the 777 challenge! The challenge is to post seven lines found on the seventh page of your work in progress, and tag seven writers.

I'm always hesitant to do these things. Mostly because I'm going to annoy seven other people. But...here goes.

The lines are from the story I'm trudging through on Wattpad.

"Jonah crept out of the ragged forest as the sun began peering through the trees behind him. He would have liked to have the cover of leaves, but autumn had set in, and the trees were all but naked. He looked back at the trees, soft pastels, muted further by early morning fog silhouetted the bare trunks with the promise of light.
In the encroaching dawn he saw the road leading to a cluster of buildings. The last thing he expected out here was a town. He stopped at the outskirts, indecisive. Hunger rejoiced at the thought of finding food."
And here is my list of seven victims.
Cameron Garriepy
Stephanie Ayers
Patricia Lynne
Rose Ketring
Of The Wilds
Thomas Marlowe
Lyssa Medana
Forgive me.