Friday, June 15, 2012

#FridayPictureShow Flashes from March to June

And here's the final day to get caught up, the #FridayPictureShow. This is still one of my favorite contests because of the 100 word exact rule. It definitely makes you think as a writer on how to get the best feel and imagery out in a set number of words. The contest has really helped me not be so unnecessarily verbose.

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3/30/12


Title: The Road to ...

I stood in the middle of the maelstrom, my sanity wearing thin. So many things were going through my head as I tried to figure out my next move. Any choice I made felt like it would be the wrong one, leading down a treacherous bridge to no where. No matter what I did, someone was going to die.

Visions of futures tore through my mind. Explosions and earthquakes, the sound of people crying out.
How could I keep these futures from happening? Everything I thought I knew seemed to be wrong. I had to try ... something. Anything. 

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5/4/12

Title: Inside
(#WIP500)

The darkness built up inside of her, bouncing from one end to the other. Alana didn’t know what to make of it. It was like she was possessed.

Wait. Possessed?

"No," she whispered, horrified.

The destroyers had finally gotten to her, despite every attempt she made. At a moment of weakness, when she had only momentarily removed her pendant, they swept in.

The bone-chilling cold filled her. She felt ill. She felt dark. She felt ... like one of them.

A laugh boiled up from deep inside her gut, but it was without humor.

"You're ours now," a voice boomed.

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5/11/12

No Title

The building was decrepit and in need of repair. The continued exposure to the canal that flowed along side the old brick structure had sped up the rate of deterioration.

Many said that the building should be torn down, that it was an eye sore and a public health issue if it collapsed. However, no one was willing to set up and try. No one had entered the building since it closed under suspicious circumstances fifty years ago.

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6/1/12

Title: Skin Deep

Forty-two times. Forty-two times he tested me. Forty-two times he tried to dominate me.

Forty-two times I never gave in. Forty-two times I won. Forty-two times I responded in kind.

For each mark on my back, I gave him a matching gash in his chest. His heart beat an additional forty-two times after.

Now, I will not allow anyone to put myself in that position again. Forty-two marks on my back to keep me strong.

As I brush my hair, to anyone else, I look like an ordinary woman without a care in the world. How appearances can be deceiving.

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6/8/12

Title: A Rose By Any Other Name

As people passed, most would see a beautiful arrangement of flowers that had been stuffed into a garbage can, perhaps from a jilted lover or a bad date. John Anthony chuckled over the seemingly innocuous visage.

In just under an hour, the city would find out what was carefully tucked into the floral tape that held the bouquet together. It may be small, but it packed a serious punch.

He had ideas that were being pushed aside. John Anthony did not like being ignored. The government would finally listen to him once they saw what happens when they don’t listen.

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Aaaaand now we are caught up! Thanks for reading!



#ThursdayThreads Flashes from March to June

Here's the collection of the flashes I did for #ThursdayThreads, catching this one up too. I was able to write some of these based on my #WIP500 story, Guardians, as well. Woo!

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3/29/12


Title: Clash of the Clichés  

Marissa typed furiously on her laptop, determined to make the scene really pop. She had deleted and re-written the same scene so many times, it was like Groundhog Day in the bedroom of her book.

She tried picturing the scene in her head like a movie. She tried reading the scene out loud. She even tried posing herself in her own bed to see if the positions she was describing were even possible (they were).

Yet, Marissa was at a loss.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushed her computer away from her and turned on the TV. She flipped through several channels before giving up and shutting the TV off again.

Opening her laptop back up, she queued up the scene and read aloud.

“Lindsey, the innocent and virginal blushing bride, trembled before her new husband nervous and unsure. Her husband wasn’t nearly as shy or nervous. He waltzed brazenly around their chamber, as nude as the day he was born. His manly sword stood out and swung in all its glory as he moved.

She couldn’t keep her eyes away from it. Oh yeah, it was that big. Lindsey wasn’t sure exactly where Harold had planned on putting it; at least not where she thought it was supposed to go.”

“Ugh!  Curse you clichés!” Marissa yelled, deleting not only the section but the entire story. “I don’t think I’m cut out for bodice rippers. Time to try science fiction.”

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5/31/12

Title: Broken Promises
(#WIP500)

The maelstrom was deafening. Alana huddled in her living room and watched in horror as the black apparitions swirled around the house. As much as she hoped David would return soon, she was worried what would happen to him if he tried to get through what had surrounded her house.

The howling became louder as the house began to creak, the high-pitched noises of straining wood pierced through everything else.

Alana nervously looked at the door and window frames where the Ward family seal was engraved. David promised her that the destroyers couldn’t get past the seal. It certainly seemed like the destroyers were trying their best to prove him wrong.

She clutched her and her grandmother’s pendants as she backed up against the wall farthest from the windows. The shrieks coming from the wood became snaps. Hairline cracks started to form along the window frames.

Suddenly, the noise stopped and the room was still. In disbelief, Alana pushed away from the wall and took a tentative step towards the windows. Surely the destroyers hadn’t given up so quickly.

Alana was blown back against the wall as the destroyers rebounded. The windows shattered, pelting her with shards of glass.  The protective family seals were pulverized.

She heard maniacal laughter as crushed brown fragments blew away on the breeze and the apparitions rushed inside.

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6/7/12

Title: The Final Countdown
(#WIP500)

They raced towards the town hall, the wind whipping along at their feet and blowing debris into their faces. Alana and David didn’t know what to expect once they got there, only that it would be the final confrontation. They had prepared all they could for this moment, now it was time to see if it was enough.

Before they stepped across the threshold that was littered with broken glass, David grabbed Alana’s hand and pulled her gently towards him.

“No matter what happens, you know I love you, right?”

Alana’s face softened and she cupped his face with her free hand. “I know. Let’s get this over with, okay? Before the destroyers decimate any more of the town?”

She squeezed his hand before letting go and carefully stepping over the bits of glass and wood strewn across the ground.

As soon as they were in the building, it was like they were in another world. Noise from the outside disappeared and the overwhelming silence was deafening. The overhead florescent lights were out and only the backup emergency lights were glowing. The shadows managed to hide most of the damage but it was apparent even under the low light that someone or something had already been there ... and was waiting for them.

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Thank you for reading!



#55Word Challenge Flashes from March to June

I had just started the #55WordChallenge flash contest during this time frame, so this will be completely caught up.  The site can be found at: http://www.lisamccourthollar.com/

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5/2/12


Title: The Path Ahead

It was a dichotomy, the wind and fire, the sand and storm. No one understood how the place existed, but understanding was not necessary.

It was sacred, magical.

Only the best of us made it this far. We looked upward and were gifted with our destiny. Now it was up to us to fulfill it.

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5/9/12

Title: Strange New World

In the depth of rock, a new world exists. A single beam of light illuminates the alien environment full of strange plants and growing things. Even the air smells different, like there is something more ... more alive to this place.

As my feet touch down on this new earth, I wonder what I’ll find.

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5/16/12

Title: End of an Age

With every drip and drizzle from the tunnel, the ravine slowly died. Its life leeched away by the polluted sludge that crept along the water’s bed. No longer could the waters feed and protect the delicate tiny creatures and beings that resided in the soft soil and tender greens. 

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5/30/12

Title: The Road Less Travelled

The two pills in my hand looked relatively innocuous, but one would change my life dramatically.

I quickly swallowed the green pill and closed my eyes. The beeps of the life support system faded into nothing as my body prepared for cryo-sleep.

Upon waking, I’d find myself on the brink of a brand new world.

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Thank you for reading.



#TuesdayTales Flashes from March to June

Apparently #TuesdayTales was not my forte during this period as I only have one flash from those months that I completed. LOL

5/1/12

Title: Empty Beds

The chair sat empty, a thin layer of dust beginning to collect on the arms. She stared at it, wishing as she always did that he would reappear.

The aneurism was so sudden. One day he was here, one day he wasn’t. No more ‘conjugal visits’ as she and Frank used to call their relations. It was an inside joke, one that had started when they married, that Frank was now in prison for the rest of his life ... hence the conjugal visits.

Prison would be better than reality; at least she knew she’d see him again.

#MenageMonday Flashes from March to June

Here's the collection of entries I did for #MenageMonday from March to June of this year. Hopefully, I will do a better job of staying caught up. :)

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3/5/12


Title: Trouble Abroad

I double checked my location as I pulled into the driveway of a rundown, seemingly vacant motel. Nevertheless, the address was correct and I continued into the parking lot.

“Rhys, I need help,” Jay had said when he called me the other night.

“Sounds serious,” I commented.

I didn’t waste any time before I headed out. Jay wouldn’t say if he needed money or help of the illegal variety. Knowing Jay, it was probably a little bit of both. Before I left, I grabbed my Springfield Armory 9mm pistol.

I pulled up to the unit Jay had indicated. The lights were off and I couldn’t hear a tv or anyone talking. I chambered my gun and walked carefully to the door, keeping the barrel low but ready.

I pushed the door open with the barrel of my gun and looked around quickly. The room was empty, but appeared to be tossed. Just as I walked completely in the room, the door shut suddenly behind me and cold metal was shoved against my temple.

“You can’t ever go home again, Rhys,” Jay said, his voice flat and void of any feeling.

I opened my mouth to respond then everything went dark.

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3/19/12

Title: Music of Passion

“Check this out, Johns.”

“You found something, Daughtery?”

“I think so. The manufacturer stamp on these strings matches the ones we found.”

Johns examines the small package of guitar strings, one of several at this particular vendor’s booth.

“Can I help you gentleman find anything?” the man who ran the booth asked, as he wrung his hands.

Johns holds up the string pack. “Where else can these strings be found?”

“Um, only at my shop. I make them myself. I usually custom make them for the particular guitar player but I’ve started making a more generic line.”

Johns and Daughtery exchange a look.

“Where were you the night before last?” Daughtery asked.

“I was at home, why?”

“We found a broken g-string, made by you at a crime scene. A man was garroted with the string before it broke.”

The vendor’s fale paled and he stumbled back before sitting down in a chair he had to the side of his stand.  

“And you think I did it?”

“We aren’t sure. But we’d like you to come down to the station and answer a few questions, just a formality, of course.”

The man sighed and wiped his hands over his face.

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4/9/12

Title: Uprising

Billowing black smoke cut across the azure sky. The acrid smell of burning infected everything: clothes, hair, and skin.  The smoke was just another sign of what had happened in the last day, structures and property that suffered too much damage, burnt to the ground. It was better to be destroyed than to be used by the creatures.

Driving down the road, you could almost pretend that the last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened. You could almost imagine that this was just any ordinary road trip, and not a flight for survival. You could pretend just as long as you kept your eyes closed, your nose pinched, and your ears covered.

Most people were running, or driving, but fleeing the devastation for the hills. Surely in the country it wasn’t like this. Surely those creatures hadn’t made it that far yet. There were far too many things within the city to keep the creatures attention, at least we hoped. We pretended that we’d be safe at our destination, until the military was able to force the creatures to retreat. It was that little lie that would sustain us … hopefully before we starved or became like the creatures.

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4/16/12

Title: Checking In
(#WIP500)

After spending several days in the city private archives, Alana and David turned their search to the Wardville Public Library.  As they approached, there seemed to be a lot of people there for a weekday evening. Alana passed through a large crowd of people and discovered the reason. There was a big "Open House" banner draped across the top of the main entrance.

"Ah, I had forgotten about the renovations," David murmured as he guided her through another group of people. "They just finished a 5.5 million dollar renovation bringing the library out of the stone age and into the 21st century."

Alana chuckled and continued her way to the main entrance. Just as her hands touched the steel and glass door, she was hit by another blast of voices and a flash of a vision. She shook her head to clear it and grasped her pendant tightly.

"Anywhere but here," she whispered, her voice tight with fear.

David wrapped his arm around her and looked around for anything suspicious. "Come on, maybe it will be better inside. They can't be everywhere, can they?"

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5/7/12

Title: The Storm of the Century
(#WIP500)

The evening wind swirled around Alana’s brown hair as she stared at the fire. David had brought her to the beachfront campfire, hoping the hypnotic fluidity of the flames would help relax her. They both knew that the final confrontation with the Destroyers was coming to a head. It seemed each day that more and more evil seemed to surround them, like a building storm.

“I just need more time,” Alana said, as she threw bit of driftwood into the fire, turning part of the flames bluish-green.

“Unfortunately, time is not something we have,” he replied, stroking her back softly.

“I know. I just wish things were different. I didn’t ask for this.”

“Neither did I, but it is what we are and we can’t not do something.”

Alana nodded and poked the fire. “I don’t have much of a choice. The Destroyers would come for me, no matter what. If I want to live, I have to defeat them."

“Not just for you to live, but for all of us. No pressure or anything,” he added, drolly.

Alana nudged him with her shoulder. “Nope, no pressure.” She laced her fingers with his. “But, I have you to help me.”

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5/14/12

Title: Riding for Love

True love is like a roller-coaster. It’s crazy, exciting, and scary all at once. Dating, just like waiting in line for the ride, is sometimes boring, sometimes interesting. You meet people along the way; maybe make a few friends, but no lifelong connections. Nothing, until you actually get on the ride.

But, before you get on, you have to let go. You have to allow yourself to fall; otherwise you just hold yourself back from real happiness.

This is your time. No more bad break-ups, unanswered phone calls, or star-crossed lovers for you.

You are in the car, strapped in, and ready to shoot for the stars. The excitement builds as the coaster goes up the first hill, that initial honeymoon period of the relationship. Your heart pounds, your palms sweat, all in gleeful anticipation.

Once you crest that first hill, and you fall, screaming your head off in sheer joy, you are in the moment. You go up and down and turn and bank, through highs and lows, just like any relationship.

What matters, is when you step off that ride that you are together. As you step away, while the initial excitement is over, the happiness never ends.
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5/21/12

No Title

The village was in awe as they watched Sol slowly disappear behind Lun. No one spoke. Not a child cried. This was a sacred moment for all, except one.

She cowered in her cell, shaking as she watched the countdown to her life. She believed in the sacredness of the disappearance of Sol, and the necessity of the rebirth of her people, but she didn’t want it to be her. She had plans for herself, a life she wanted to lead.

However, the lottery had other plans for her. Being randomly picked didn’t make the shock any better. Everyone congratulated her family for the high honor. She put on a brave face, but inside she was terrified.

The village’s histories said she would be reborn with the city, that the essence of her body and blood would feed the crops and nuture the soil. Her sacrifice would appease Lun and bring Sol back.

She closed her eyes as she tried to keep the tears at bay when she heard the priests walk down the corridor to her. This was it. She would find out if the legends were true.

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6/4/12

Title: Moonlight Serenade

“Doing this at night only works if there isn’t a full moon,” Hank cracked, as he waiting for some cloud cover to strike.

“Bite me, Hank. How was I supposed to know tonight was going to be a full moon?”

“Oh, I don’t know, check the calendar or the weather report beforehand?”

George ignored him and wiped his forehead. “Jesus Christ, it’s hot out here. Why the hell is it this hot at night?”

“It’s a dry heat, desert and all.” Hank shook his head and wondered why he agreed to do this one last job with George. He wasn’t known for his planning ability.

“Why are you such an asshole, Hank?”

“Why are you such an idiot, George?”

“Fuck you, Hank. I don’t need your shit,” George retorted as he stood up out from under the cover of the rocks, the moonlight reflecting across his face.

“George, get back here before they see you!” Hank hissed.

A gunshot rang out and George’s body crumbled to the ground.

“I guess you did need my shit,” Hank replied to his dead friend’s body. He quickly grabbed George’s handgun and his own and took off before their target came looking for him.

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Thanks for reading!








Long Time No See

So my blog has been neglected a lot of late. I didn't have updates on my novel or any flashes to post. I hadn't been doing flash fiction as much due to how crazy things were at work, and then once things slowed down, I needed to get back into the groove. This week has been a good week so far for flash. Looks like my mojo has returned!

Also some news:
I am hosting a picture prompt blog that is in the process of going live. The website is up but we don't have all the bios up for the authors. What we are doing is showcasing a different author each day and their writing based on two photo prompts.

The author for the day has the option of writing a prompt based on one of the pictures or both. The theme, length, content, whatever is completely up to the creativity and inspiration of the author, provided that they are able to tie in one or both of the photos. It is a fun writing exercise that we are all looking forward to starting. Keep an eye out for my tweets about the blog when we go live, or go to the blog directly and follow so you don't miss a single day.

#DailyPicspiration  DailyPicspiration

Some authors are published, some are just starting out. What we all share is a love of writing and a desire to grow together as writers. I hope you will come along for the journey.

To wrap things up, here are some of my flash fiction entries for the month of June. I will do another post with the ones from March to June separately.

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#ThursdayThreads


Title: Till Death Do Us Part

The blood pool beneath his body was small compared to the size of the man. Morgan shook her head, not surprised that the cold, miserly man was just as cheap in death as he was in real life.

“That didn’t take long.”

Morgan scoffed. “Damn bastard never made me happy when he was alive, and now he can’t even give me something in his death.”

“Well, at least you are free of him now, right?”

“I suppose, Lane. Still disappointing, though. I was expecting so much more out of this.”

“Life is full of disappointments, sugar.” Lane shrugged his shoulders and started rolling up the plastic that covered Morgan’s deceased husband.

“Yep, and I was married to the biggest one of all.”  Morgan washed her hands and finally cracked a smile. “But, now I’m free of that horrible mistake of a man.”

Lane set down the body and wrapped his arms around Morgan’s waist. “And off to better things with me.”

For now, she thought.

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#55WordChallenge (Won this one! WOOT!)

Title: Bloody Reunion

He thought the heat from my skin was passion. He thought the tension in my body was from pleasure. He thought he knew me.

He didn’t.

He also didn’t know I saw him with my sister. He’d come tonight, but for the last time. I’d get my revenge with his blood flowing across my hands. 

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#TuesdayTales (Honorable Mention!)

Title: Vodka for Dummies

As I cracked my eyelids open, my eyes were blinded by the light of a thousand suns.  I groaned, rolling over and squeezing my eyes shut.

“Rise and shine.”

I grumbled and burrowed farther into the bed.

Rhys’ voice rumbled with laughter. “You can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Yes, I can. I’m royalty, damn it. Should be good for something,” I croaked into my pillow.

Rhys continued to chuckle as he poured a glass of water from the stand by our bed. “No matter how blue your blood may be, too much alcohol affects you just like everyone else.”

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#MotivationMonday

Title: The Burning Words

The trouble started when they threw the book in the fire. The group of boys had taunted and dared one another to do the deed until finally one got up enough nerve. With a look of determination on his face, Tommy Thompson snatched the book from the bookbag that sat in the middle of them.

Without a pause, he chucked the old, hardbound book into the hungry flames. The edges began to burn even before the book landed at the bottom of the firepit. The flames eagerly licked the sides of the book, the stiff leather of the cover cracking and melting.

Tommy swore he thought he heard something as soon as the book began to burn, but he shrugged it off. The stories about the book were just that, stories. It wasn’t possible for the book to be haunted or to be the only physical entity that held back the Maligni.

“Did you hear that?” one of the younger boys asked, his eyes darting back and forth.

“Hear what, Gerald? Your knees knocking together?” Chris taunted. He was the bully of the group, always willing to ridicule anyone and everyone.

Gerald’s lip trembled as the other boys laughed. Tommy shook his head and huffed with disgust. He was tired of Chris’ taunts.

“Leave him alone, Chris,” Tommy said firmly. “It was probably just the wind.” Tommy hoped it was just the wind.

The bully turned to the taller boy. “You scared too, Tommy? I didn’t figure you for a chicken.”

Tommy chuckled but it was without humor. “Yet, I didn’t see you throwing the book in the fire, did I? That was me. So shut up.”

“Why don’t you make me, tough guy?” Chris continued to taunt. He picked up a large stick as he walked to the edge of the fire. As he continued to speak, he prodded the burning book with the dead wood. “Nothing but a stupid book anyway.”

As soon as he poked the book, a screeching wail surrounded them. The fire leapt up the length of the wood and wrapped around Chris’s body. Chris began screaming but couldn’t seem to let go of the stick.

The rest of the boy stood in shock, frozen in fear. The fire enveloped their friend, but didn’t seem to be burning him.
“I HAVE BEEN RELEASED!” a voice boomed, coming from Chris but much deeper and older than what the teenaged boy’s voice sounded like.

Gerald wet himself as the rest of the boys ran in every direction, whatever it took to get away from the hell they unleashed.

Tommy knew it was a bad idea to mess with the supernatural, even if it was supposed to only be a story. Chris was evidence that it was no story at all. Tommy ran until he reached a church. He threw the doors open and hid under a pew until he thought it was safe.

Too bad for him, no one was safe now.

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#MenageMonday

Title: Blood Rites

Foreboding filled Tony as he approached the turn off to the Agua Fria National Monument area  Nothing good ever came out of being in such a desolate area. Sure there was some shrubbery and animal life, but people didn't live here for a reason. They tended to die out here.

Marco said it was a family affair. Of which, Tony could only imagine this was Marco's way of thinking out of the box for a sit down. Tony's Capo liked to be different. He still held to the rules of the family, but in his own unique way.

Way out in the middle of no where Arizona, no one would hear anything ... and any bodies left laying around would be picked over and desiccated before anyone was reported missing. Although, any smart person wouldn't bother doing a missing person's report. They would've known it was a fight to the death.

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Thanks for reading - and I look forward to seeing you at the new blog when we go live. :)