Thursday, June 11, 2015

55 Word Challenge: Departure

Seven years ago, I wrote a story for a "55 Word Challenge" at WritingDotCom. Today I found a new email from someone giving compliment to the flash piece. I revisited the story and found myself more confused than flattered--definitely not something I would write today.  

Anyway, I tweaked it a bit. You decide.


The late bus arrived at the station. I dashed toward the gates where a myriad of unfamiliar faces filtered through, but there was no sign of her.

Where was she? Did she board another bus?

A stranger walks up to me and hands me a note.

I'm sorry. I found someone else.

Monday, October 13, 2014

A Fast Trip

This story is linked with  Two Shoes Tuesday, currently celebrating their 100th edition with an Amazon Card Giveaway.

A Fast Trip

"Why don't you drive a little faster?" Elena unbuckled her seatbelt and curled up close to Rob.

"Put your seatbelt back on."

Elena pouted, her hand sliding slowly up and down Rob's thigh.. "C'mon--pretty please?"

"Can't do it," Rob said nervously. "Now please put your seatbelt back on. I don't need another ticket today."

"Aww," Elena wheedled. ""What happened to that sexy daredevil I once knew?"

"He grew up."

"You can't CHANGE who you are, Rob! Remember that!"

Rob glanced over the empty seat where his pills lay, then looked ahead where memorial ribbons flailed. "I'd rather forget."

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Dead Diner

If you're a writer on Twitter, I highly recommend following Story Bandit  for helpful ideas to get started on a short story or get back on track on a current one. 

This is another story inspired by a #writingdare as shown below.

"After the tornado passed, they were still roaming the clocktower plaza," Elyse said, dusting over an old mint-green radio near a hanging empty order wheel.

Linda's expression furrowed as she leaned over the counter with folded arms. "I doubt they'd ever survive a tornado like that."

"Doubtful--if they weren't already dead."

"Now you're just being silly," Linda straightened and checked the time before saying, "I'm clocking out."

"Fine," Elyse shrugged and watched Linda leaving the diner. She turned a radio knob and sighed. "No one wants to know the truth, Victor."

"Patience, my darling," a voice crackled. "Patience."

99 Words

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

The Recruitment

This story is written for Story Bandit on Twitter and uses words featured in the following #writingdare tweet :

The suspect's recalcitrant glare appeared to ripple wildly under the flourescent lights, but Detective Reyes kept a cool measured eye on him from across the table.

"The concierge said you were being hostile toward the hotel guests," Reyes said calmly. "Telling all those horrified folks about how you were gonna blow up the place."

"Yeah, well he's a liar!" the suspect shot back. "I went into that place to take a leak--that's all. There's no law against that."

"What about the necklace and the credit cards?"

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on. We found a lot of the guests' stolen property at your place."

"That's a load of bull."

"All right," Reyes rose to his feet."Have it your way," he left the room and studied the suspect from behind the wall mirror as cigar smoke billowed slowly over his face. "What do you think?"

"He'll do well at The Organization," a rasp voice behind Reyes said.

"Kind of a hothead though," Reyes pointed out."

"He's fearless," the shadowed man countered. "Take him back to the patrol car and bring him to The Forest. We'll begin the initiation process immediately."

Reyes nodded. "You got it, Chief."

199 Words

Monday, August 11, 2014

Masking the Moment

This story is written for VisDare, a weekly prompt challenge hosted by Angela Goff. 

This story--much like my previous story for Visdare--also includes a mask, only it's not so dark this time. Weird, I know.

Photo Source

"Mommy, why does Daddy wear a mask in the garden?" Becky asked.

"That's just so he doesn't get sick, honey?"

"But you never wear a mask when you're in the garden."

"That's because I'm not allergic."

"Is being allergic a bad thing?"

"Yes, it can be a very bad thing if you're not careful."

Becky shifted her attention toward the stairway, trying to make sense of what she'd seen the night before, then looked at her mother again curiously. "Mommy?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Is Daddy allergic to you?"

"Of course not. Why would you ask me such a thing?"

Becky shrugged. "After I went to get a drink of water last night, I saw him coming out of your bedroom with the mask on. He said he was just playing a game with you."

Becky's mother blushed and raised an index. "That's enough, Becky. Go and wash up for dinner."

148 Words

Saturday, March 22, 2014

VisDare 53: Misplaced

This story is linked with Anonymous Legacy's VisDare, a weekly writing challenge hosted by Angela Goff and is being brought to you this week by the word "Misplaced" and the photo prompt below.

Photo Source

I stand by the door and pretend it's an escape portal toward another dimension. I put on my mask, switch off the lights, and hear my brother, Joey, wheezing between hits from his inhaler..

"Why did you turn off the lights, Molly?"

"Space is dark," I said.

I never understood Joey's fear of the dark. Had he forgotten what it was like hiding in corners where darkness served as our only guardian, protecting the value of our misplaced youths?

"I don't like this game,"  Joey said nervously.

"It's not a game," I told him, raising an index in the air. "It's a quest."

"Quest for what?"

I hear a drip coming from the hall. Joey said he heard a voice from there, but I told him there wasn't--not anymore.

I take Joey's hand, lead him outside to stand with me in the middle of a dormant night. "Our new home."


Thursday, March 20, 2014

Flash! Friday story: The Wish Fields

The following microfiction story was written for Flash! Friday, a weekly flash fiction contest taking place every Friday, and is hosted by Rebekah Postupak.  This past round's winner is Gordon B. White and is featured in this week's "Sixty Seconds" feature.

And now, my story...


"She was something," Edna said while overlooking the dry fields from her porch. "Wasn't always the great ballet dancer she turned out to be. She would let frustrations get to her too."

Emma's legs clanked as she walked over to her grandmother's side. "How did she deal with them?"

"She went into the fields one day--came back--became the greatest dancer ever known."

"How did going into the fields help her do that?"

"Emma!" Emma's mother called as she came out of the house. "Found your jacket, honey. We're running late to therapy, so we better get moving."

Emma hugged Edna. "Bye, Grandma."

"Bye, sweetie."

Emma's mother waited until her daughter was inside the car before turning to Edna. "Stop it!"


"There's nothing in those damned fields! They're all just blatant lies!"

"Beg to differ," Edna's eyes shifted toward Emma then back to her daughter. "Your own baby came from those fields, honey."