Running on Fumes

Barely beating the deadline for my own pick.  How bad is that.  Thanks to Lance for letting me choose the track.  Jackson Browne's "Running on Empty", which is sadly how I feel of late.  This post may not be entirely fiction.






On the road well before dawn. Caffeine induced wakefulness fuels the pursuit of the never ending need to make ends meet.

Half a day later, fumbling for domestic balance with quickly ebbing energy, the body's demand for down time wins out.  An unscheduled nap in a chair.  Yet it is not enough.

In random corners of time, the frivolous endeavours of the heart wait.

The ball of yarn next to a forgotten pattern.  The pen atop the page.

Until a cobwebbed mind, determined, takes the time to brush away the encrusted dust, and embrace the dream for just a moment.

The Morning After

Lyssa Medana

It's been a long time since I've written anything.  I feel dull and rusty. But I desperately needed to jump back.  So I combined prompts, an old haunt of mine Lance Burson's 100 Word Song and a new place, Light and Shade Challenge, hosted by Thomas Marlowe and Lyssa Medana.  The song, Bigmouth strikes again, by the Smith's. And a photo from Light and Shade. So here are 100 words....



The sun's morning rays filtering through the trees massaged Jonah's cramped  muscles to wakefulness.  He sat up slowly, began to gather the shreds of the clothing he'd been wearing last night.

With a sigh, he looked about, trying to get an idea of where he might be.

Then he caught sight of a rabbit's remains only a few feet from the wall he had been curled against.  

Overcoming the nausea and sense of defeat, he wondered idly what the time was.  Eventually, he'd have to find his way back.  Pretend this was a bad dream, and rejoin the human race.

Exit

It was my plan to link up with last week's 100 Word Song.  But I waited to long.  Sad me.
However.  Since Leeroy gave us an additional 20 words to play with, I altered my original idea to encompass both tracks.  
Cause they said we could break the rules!


It whispered her name.  "Elise."
A soft plea. "Come."
Silver rimmed shadow, pulsing gently.

"Did you get hold of Granny yet?  We need that cash"

"Elise, come."
Chewing her lip, she took a hesitant step.
Silver swirled into shadow with anticipation.  
"Come, Elise.  Nothing to fear."

"I know, I know!  She don't answer her phone."

She stood, undecided.
It waited patiently.
Finally another faltering step.  
"Be free, Elise.  Come."

"Try again!"

She cocked her head, eyebrows furrowed. "Free?"
"Free, come Elise."
She stretched a gnarled hand toward the shadow.  A ribbon of silver caressed her bent fingers.
She grasped the silvery thread, followed with trust.


"I did, some young chick answered.  I musta got the wrong number."

She was free.

The Songs...

You have seven days from NOW, to write 120 words on Wrong Number by The Cure chosen by Melissa aka @realgirlmelissa. Link up to Mr. Linky below then tell a friend or fifty via the medias that are social

And....
 And She Was, by the Talking Heads and chosen by Tar Rah. Use Mr. Linky below then social media out your link and tell a friend or fifty.

Moon Drawn

Tightrope – 100 Word Song


I'm ba-ack...with my always slightly different(read twisted) view.  So here are 100 words inspired by Janelle Monae’s Tightrope chosen by Deana aka The Bobina.

It was on the clearest, coldest nights she felt the call.  Her back rigid as she watched the full moon set, only a few more hours before sunrise let her breathe normally again.

She pulled the cloak more tightly around her shoulders, tugged the hood farther over her flame red hair.  Emerald green eyes reflected the pale moonglow.  How easy it would be to just let go.  

Only an ancient binding spell kept her human.  And her will to resist the call.

But, oh how easy it would be.  To step off the thread thin tightrope between beauty and beast.

Witchery

100 Word Song – Lucretia Macevil
As always, you have 7 days from NOW, to write 100 words inspired by Blood, Sweat, & Tears Lucretia Macevil. Please use Mr. Linky below to post your 100 then tweet, book o face, google +, smoke signal, pony express, or standard mail your 100 word song to everyone you know.

I've visited with the witch, Lillian and the demon, Aslogoth again.  They each have a place in my Chaos in Progress.  Neither are good by any stretch on my imagination.  

  
Lillian wielded the mortar with increased vigor as the odor of char enveloped her.

Aslozoth pressed against Lillian's back, peering over her shoulder into the pestle. She absently ran clawed fingers down Lillian's arm, across her belly, tracing ever widening circles. Lillian shuddered with longing as the other hand slid from shoulder to hip.

"What potion is this, Witch?"  

"Nothing special, Demon." 

 "You would banish me?"  Aslozoth's whisper threatened to blister the skin of her neck. "Haven't I taught you... everything?"  

Lillian hesitated, then spat, invoking the spell.  

Aslozoth's fading chuckle taunted her. "I'll be waiting for your call, Lillian."

Fishing

100 Word Song – Dirty Work
This week, Rene aka http://nottherockefellers.blogspot.com/, chose Steely Dan's Dirty Work.




Aslozoth reached into the murky bog.  As her clawed fingers raked through the muck at the bottom, she admired the red glow of her eyes reflecting from the greasy water. 

Finally her hand closed around the object of her search. She settled on the squelching bank, examining her treasure.

The dull, green orb weighed heavy in her grip. She turned it round slowly, peering at the pattern just beneath the surface.

"There you are, Lillian!"  She drew one razor sharp claw down the stone.  "Who's dirty work is this?  That is some potent magic.  Now... how to get you out."

The Army

You have six and a half days from now to write 100 words inspired by the great band Dead Sara and their incredible song Sorry For It All. Make sure you link up with Mr. Linky below then tweet/book o face/google +/smoke signal/pony express your piece to as many people as possible. Tell a friend or 50. Visit your fellow 100 word song slingers. This is a pretty awesome group. GO>








Am I sorry for it all?  

No.

They were an evil, ready to unleash their insidious offspring on an unsuspecting world. 

It was necessary, so many brave souls stepped up to stop the invasion. I had to do my part. 

We hunted for them everywhere.  

We found them, hundreds of them, still cocooned in their shiny shells.

One by one, we destroyed them.

It was easy really.  The hardest part was hiding the shells, so no one would know.

So no one would know what we had to do to stop them.

Yes, too easy, especially the caramel filled ones.

Conversation with the Gargoyle

I've gone a little crazy today and opted to tell a story in two different ways, on two different sites.  The other story is at Velvet Verbosity



"Thee will never reach the light, Liam.  Thee hast chosen the unclean path. Thy soul is forfeit."

Liam leaned on the remains of an ruined pew. He considered the old gargoyle's words. "Ye're sayin' the only way to be saved, is death and rebirth?" 

"Aye.  Without death, thy actions cannot be weighed."

"Ye could vouch for me, old friend." Liam said, "ye've known me since I was a lad."

"I am only the guardian of this ancient chapel, not a judge.  I pray when my weighing comes, the harboring of a ghoul will not tip the scales against me." 


As always, you have 7 days from NOW to write 100 words inspired by the Indigo Girls Galileo. Please use the Mr. Linky below to post your 100, then tweet, book o face, google +, smoke signal, morse code, and text a friend or 50 your new work of audio austered art.

Car Jammin"

100 Word Song – Car Jamming

Linking up with Leeroy again.  This one made me think.  Then the muse came home and it was all okay!  




As always, you have 1 week from, now, to write 100 words inspired by The Clash’s Car Jamming. Be sure to use the Mr. Linky at the bottom and tweet/book o face/google +/smoke signal your link and tell a friend or 50.


It was all they had.  This old car, parked in an alley where the street lights had all been shot out.  Bald tires and peeling vinyl top made it seem right at home with the rest of the trash.

Classic rock blared from the old radio, tinny and under amped.  The jug of Boone's Farm, emptied hours ago, lay abandoned on the front floorboard amidst greasy wrappers that once held greasy hamburgers.

They rolled around the back seat, steaming the windows and risking the remains of the shock absorbers.  It was all they had, this old car.

And each other.

Dig Two

I have to admit, I've missed Anne Marie and Liam,  the music more than the words built this...

"The elder ones always put up such a fuss, sweetling?"

Anne Marie shrugged as she finished cleaning the gore from her sword.  "Depends on how tired of it they are."  She grimaced as she resheathed her weapon.  "If you must feast on it, Liam, wait until I've left."

"There be things even ghouls won't eat, Annie, me love.  Werewolf bein' one," Liam answered.  "Suppose I ought dig a hole for the bits 'n pieces ye've left?"

Anne Marie raised her head, redrawing her blade at the same time.  A low growl repeated from several yards away.  

"Better dig two, Liam."




As always you have 7 days from right now to write 100 words inspired by my wife’s love of The Band Perry and their new song, Better Dig Two. Make sure you use the linky below and then tweet/book o face/and smoke signal your handiwork. Tell a friend or 50.

Happily Ever After; Part Three

100 words inspired by Linda’s pick of Elvis Costello’s Brilliant Mistake. Be sure to use the Mr. Linky below, tweet and Facebook out your link, and tell a friend or 50.





I'm trying something a little...well, crazy here this week.  I have been writing and linking up to several prompts every week.  I've combined prompts and I've written separate stories to the individual prompts.  This week my goal is to write one story, and split it into parts.  Each part fitting one of the prompts I use.  It's my hope that each part stands alone, yet makes one understandable tale all together.
Part one is here  Part two is here





Meeribel had expected to be thrown from the palace, or into the dungeons. She hadn’t expected that Arlord had known all along of her deception.

“So, do you love me without the potion, then?” she asked.

“No, not particularly. Though, you are fair to look upon, and you have a pleasant disposition.”

“Oh, well, that’s good. Because even though I believed I could, I don’t love you either. And I really don't like being the princess, I made a mistake, it’s hard work. Should I leave, now?”

Arlord raised an eyebrow. “Leave? I think not. You serve the people now.”

The Jog

 100 words inspired by the song , I Won’t Back Down, by Tom Petty and Deb.

Mary and Duke are old friends, you can read more about them at  Vigil and Each Alone and New Beginning


He'd lagged behind, sniffing a tree trunk, investigating the innards of a shrub.  The sound of rushing feet attracted his attention.

He watched with mild interest as the strange man knocked her down.  Head cocked and tail wagging, he tried to grasp this new game. Until he caught the scent of her fear.

 Instinct launched him across the grass to the struggling bodies.  his teeth grasped the male's arm and pulled.  The man screamed and swung at his head. He didn't back down. Another lunge and deep growl convinced the man to leave.

 "Good Duke!" Mary sobbed into his fur. 

I Am Not Afraid

Whee I got to pick the song this week!  I chose John Wayne by Billy Idol, you can see it here:  http://t.co/Tmt4JQg






“ I'm not afraid,” he’d said.

He didn't understand. It wasn't a matter of his fear, it was a matter of his choice. A choice that changed everything between them.

She turned her back and walked away.

“I am not afraid,” she told herself, “I am not afraid of being alone.”

It would be better that way. No hearts to distract her. No one to tie her down.

“Tonight, it changes. I keep my soul to myself. No more pretense of normalcy.”

She mounted the waiting pony, clutched the familiar hilt of the ancient sword.

“Just you and me, my love.”

Blech Magic

Alrighty then, I couldn't resist.  One silly story inspired by three prompts.  (I may have pushed a bit on Lance's 100 Word Song, but I couldn't get "disaster" out of my head.)

So, here's my bit for the 100 Word Song, Write on Edge, and Trifecta.  

Concrit Away!!

100 words inspired by 311′s Beautiful Disaster. http://youtu.be/bDQlSUjqsuo

Write at the Merge; Week 7
This week, be inspired by the sense of smell. It’s said scent is the strongest tie to memory, and aroma is a powerful force—for good and awful! Is your nose engaged? Now I give you the word Elixir:

elixir |iˈliksər|
noun
a magical or medicinal potion: an elixir guaranteed to induce love.
• a preparation that was supposedly able to change metals into gold, sought by alchemists.
• (also elixir of life )a preparation supposedly able to prolong life indefinitely.
• a medicinal solution of a specified type: a natural herbal cough elixir.
ORIGIN late Middle English: via medieval Latin from Arabic al-’iksīr, from al ‘the’ + ‘iksīr from Greek xērion ‘powder for drying wounds’ (from xēros ‘dry’).

Trifecta: Week Sixty-four

DWELL

1

: to remain for a time

2

a : to live as a resident

b : exist, lie

3

a : to keep the attention directed —used with on or upon<tried not to dwell on my fears>

b : to speak or write insistently —used with on or upon<reporters dwelling on the recent scandal>

Please remember:

• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.

• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.

• The word itself needs to be included in your response.

• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 

• Only one entry per writer.
• Trifecta is open to everyone.  Please join us.

This week's word is dwell.  

Blech Magic

All she needed to accomplish in this phase of her testing was a simple fireball. She hadn't counted on the sensory effects of the elixir the Master Mage had insisted she drink.  

It not only caused double vision, but enhanced the odor of the several unwashed bodies assembled to watch her performance.

Trying not to dwell on the smell, she focused on wand-play and incantation. The fireball finally formed in her hand.  The deep breath of relief she took was her undoing.

The vomit infused disaster she'd created, though ensuring her expulsion, had at least cleared the room of stink.

Careless Love...

The red dress brought out the highlights in her hair.  She brushed a stray brown strand back into place, as she  chewed on her lightly glossed lower lip.  

She sighed, as she gazed across the room. Covertly watching him, curly blond hair and discreet musculature. His arm possessively wrapped around a honeyed blond...

The honey blond glanced longingly, at every chance, toward the painfully shy young man. Thick black hair crowning his face, that unbeknown to him, was made for Hollywood...

Hollywood sighed, and gazed across the room at the petite brunette in the red dress, chewing on her lip.


100 words inspired by David Bowie’s Soul Love.

No. Regrets.

The water is bearably hot, to offset the inevitable chill.  Fingers swirl the water.  Making pretty pink designs upon the surface.

Disjointed thoughts drift upward on the rising steam as a contented smile plays on slackening lips.  Chances missed, opportunities ignored, mistakes made, apologies unspoken.

No regrets.

Leaning into the warmed porcelain embrace.  Snuggling deeper into the warmth.  Twin rivers of red flowing not so slowly into the relaxing bath.

A random thought skitters by.  Which will win the cosmic coin toss?  The emptying of the shell?  Or the waters waiting for a slip beneath the surface?

Whatever....

No regrets.



My 100 words for Debonair.   (And just for the record, I'm not suicidal, I just go where the muse takes me.) 

New Beginning

Mary politely refused invitations to parties.  Opting for a quiet night and light reading on the couch.

It was dark when the wet nose of John's dog nuzzled her awake, tail thumping expectantly.

"Really, Duke?" The tail thumped faster.

With a sigh Mary slipped into shoes and coat. 

Snow had fallen while she'd napped. Duke shuffled through the new fall, finally coming up with a frisbee, idle since John's death. 

Duke offered the old toy to her.

In the distance, a church bell tolled twelve.

She accepted the disk and threw it for the excited dog.

"Happy New Year, boy."

My take on the song.  The song is Same Old Lang Syne by Dan Fogelberg:

Dressed to Kill

Liam straightened the the sheath of the buck knife on the belt of his black jeans.

The onyx jewelled string tie adorning his cobalt blue shirt concealed a tiny dagger.

He rapped the heel of one snake skin boot and was pleased by the snick as the razor sharp blade sprung from the toe.

He adjusted the tension bands on his forearms, satisfied they would release the daggers when needed.

A quick check of the pockets of his leather jacket. Yes, three shuriken, one switchblade.

Curling a lip at his reflection he thought, "Now, there is one sharp dressed man."

Linking up with Lance and Leeroy
This is my 100 words inspired by ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man.

Not Present

Exhaustion rolls across me in waves.

Confusion eroding intellect, twisting the mundane to the monstrous.  Frustration filing compassion to an angry blade of indifference.

Bits of humanity leached away on a desperate tide of tired.
 
Muscles numb with ache continuing their task by rote.  Shattered, scattered thoughts no longer involved in the process.

Mindless movement attempting to achieve a forgotten goal.

An empty shell worn smooth, tossed like so much flotsam in an ocean of things needing done, wanting finished, demanding attention that has wandered off with unrested distraction.

Leaving only tears to wash away the ashes of my dreams.


My take on Lance's 100WordSong: Falling to Pieces by the great Faith No More

Never Forget

 It should never have happened.  

Anne Marie had fallen for one of them.

She knew what he was.  

She'd stalked and destroyed enough of them.

But this one...so gentle.  Never threatening, never allowing her to see the predator within.

She lay beside him, softly brushing the hair from his forehead.  Placing her lips there, above his brow.

A tear threatened to escape.  A shuddering breath called it back.

She had made a mistake, forgetting who she was.

One last look at the crimson stained stake in his chest.  

He'd known what she was as well.  And, as well, had forgotten.

Joining Lance and Leeroy again, here are my 100 words inspired by Chasing Cars by Snow