Posted in Writing

Marny’s Dream

Trigger Warning: Character Death, Suicide


Marny tossed in her bed; her eyes fluttering in the REM cycle. Her arm landed on her stomach as a gasp made its way out of her mouth.

She could hear their laughter. They were laughing at her. They thought she was oblivious.

And she had been.

She had thought that they were her friends. She had believed the girls to be the sisters her parents couldn’t give her.

Until she heard them talking to David about courting.

And David. Her David. She had thought him to be her soul mate. She had thought they would spend their lives together.

Until she heard him asking her friend to marry him.

Continue reading “Marny’s Dream”

Posted in Writing, Writing 101

Writing 101: Serially Lost 5

This was written in response to Writing 101: Third Time’s the Charm. This part is linked to Serially Lost, Serially Lost 2, Serially Lost 3 and Serially Lost 4.

**Hopefully the underlining works but if not, all of the post titles above are links. I occasionally forget that my theme doesn’t highlight links. Thank you Priceless Joy for pointing that out to me. 🙂


The oven lay cold as Wolf lost himself to thoughts of the past. Normally he would be getting the ingredients ready to make fresh bread for the boys’ suppers. Today he was remembering their last conversation.

He lied when he told Mouse that they fell apart due to her marrying another. In truth they fell apart because of his own naïve actions.

Wolf could still remember his surprise when the baker asked him for a private conversation.


The baker seemed like a giant in comparison to the table he sat at. “Michael, I don’t like you. I don’t pretend to like you.”

Michael shifted in his seat. “Sir?”

The baker narrowed his eyes. “I’ll get to the point as I don’t think you’ll understand otherwise. I don’t want you around my daughter.”

Michael swallowed back the anger. “Sir, I know you don’t want me around Aislinn. Why are you telling me this?”

“Aislinn believes that you will marry her. She always was fanciful but I cannot allow these ideas of hers to continue.” The baker shuddered. “I am prepared to offer you an apprenticeship if you stop your friendship with Aislinn.”

Michael opened his mouth to say no. He wanted to say no. He wanted to tell the baker that Aislinn was worth so much more to him. But the promise of a roof over his head and warm food to eat every day was too tempting. “I’ll do it.”

Posted in Writing, Writing 101

Writing 101: Serially Lost 4

This was written in response to Writing 101: Serially Found. This part is linked to Serially Lost, Serially Lost 2 and Serially Lost 3.


The cloak reminded him of of his childhood. He remembered the day she had given it to him. She made him promise to get off the streets.

Wolf shook his head to clear out to memories. The boys would be down soon to start their day. It wouldn’t do to have him lost in thoughts of the past.

He placed the cloak back onto Mouse’s hook. Besides, the cloak only looked like the one he had, it was not the same cloak.

The pounding of feet on the stairs pulled Wolf out of his thoughts. He had to get the boys their breakfast. They had a long day on the streets ahead of them and he didn’t want them to be hungry.

He placed fresh bread on the table and filled the empty jugs with milk. It wasn’t much but it would get the boys through until they came home.

Some of the older boys left for their apprenticeships without eating; preferring to leave the food for the younger ones. The other boys made sure the younger ones ate.

It warmed Wolf’s heart to be able to provide food and shelter for the little ones of the city. Not only was he giving them what he didn’t have but he was keeping the promise he made years ago.

“Wolf?” Mouse tugged at the bottom of Wolf’s shirt. “Can you help me find a lady?”

The older boys left in the kitchen laughed. “Looking for a date Mousey?” They asked him in jest.

Mouse frowned and shook his head. “No, I wants to give back the cloak. She said it was a gift but I don’t wants no charity.”

“Did she tell you her name?” Wolf asked, leaning down to look Mouse in the eyes.

“Nuh uh. She ain’t never said her name.”

“Do you remember what she looked like little one?”

Mouse scrunched up his face. “She was pretty. Made me think about your baker girl. But she was old like you.” Mouse thought for a moment. “And she said it was a return. Said the cloak was lost and coming home.”

“I’m not certain I can help you find her. But I will try.” Wolf stood up and walked over to the cloak. Picking it up, he looked over the fabric.

He stopped when he saw a small patch of fabric stitched with the name Michael. He hadn’t used that name in years. She was the only one who called him that and the only one who ever would.

“You need not worry about finding her, Mouse,” Wolf eventually said. “She was just returning the cloak I lost years ago.”

Wolf fitted the cloak around Mouse’s shoulders.

“It seems to fit you well, little one.” Wolf blinked back the tears threatening to form in his eyes. “It should keep you nice and warm in the winter weather.”

Standing up, Wolf looked around at the boys still in the kitchen. Some were giving him quizzical looks but he ignored them as he cleared the table.

Posted in Writing, Writing 101

Writing 101: Serially Lost 3

This was written in response to Writing 101: Happy (Insert Special Occasion Here)! This part is linked to Serially Lost and Serially Lost 2.


“The smell of bread brings me back to my childhood. Every morning the baker’s daughter would sneak me into their kitchen and feed me fresh bread.

She would cut into bread while I brought out the honey. While we ate she would tell me faery stories of faraway lands.

For a child on the streets a slice of fresh bread was my version of the Summerland. Some days it was my only meal and my only chance to pretend I was wanted.

The baker’s daughter was the only one who cared for me. She would fret over each bruise on my face but I know her father punished her for helping me.

I didn’t care. She was the closest I had to a home. I returned every day to sit with her and share a meal of warm bread and butter.

Eventually we both grew older and the baker’s daughter married a man of her parent’s choosing. She moved away with her husband and went on with her life.

I don’t know if she remembers me but I think of her every time I smell bread.”

Wolf sighed as he sawed the knife into the warm loaf of bread.

“Is that why you always making bread? So as you don’t forget her?” Mouse peered over the table at Wolf.

A smile creeped onto Wolf’s face. “I make bread because it gives us something to eat little one. There is no need for you to go hungry like I did as a child.”

Mouse grabbed the bread Wolf passed him. Smothering the slice with honey, Mouse shoved it in his mouth. After chewing, Mouse scrunched up his face.”Is this her bread?”

Wolf’s body shook with laughter. “It is the bread her father taught me to how to make.”

Posted in Challenges, Writing, Writing 101

Writing 101: Serially Lost 2

This post was written in response to Writing 101: Death to Adverbs. To avoid the use of adverbs I used Edit Minion (which was made by the people who brought us Write or Die). This part is linked to Serially Lost.



The Cailleach Bheur was active in the square today. People pulled and tugged on their cloaks.

Mouse shivered as he waited. He held his breath. His glance darting from person to person. It wouldn’t be long.

“Are you alright?” The woman’s eyes pierced his soul. “Where are your parents?”

“Off.” Mouse shrugged. He knew how to get rid of her. “Bartering.”

“Well, you’re shivering.” The woman slipped the cloak from her shoulders. “Take this.”

Mouse shook his head. “I don’t need no charity miss. I’m good as is.”

“It’s not charity. It’s a gift.”

Mouse didn’t see her move until the cloak wrapped him in its embrace.

“But how is it I can give it back? I don’t know you?”

“It’s a gift. Think of it as the return of something lost.”

Mouse shook his head. He opened his mouth but realized the woman was gone.

At least the cloak held back the winter wind.

Posted in Challenges, Writing, Writing 101

Writing 101: Serially Lost

This post was written in response to Writing 101: Serially Lost. As of now, this is a stand alone; however, I am trying to come up with two more parts to complete this short tale.



“I lost it. I can’t believe I lost it. Wolf is gonna bury me when he finds out.” The mousey haired boy chewed on what was left of his nails as he paced. “I’m gonna be underground. I’ll be so far I’ll never get out.”

The creak of a door seemed to underline the boy’s last few words. The boy jumped and started chewing faster.

“Relax Mouse. It’s just me.” An older version of the boy stood by the door. “Wolf sent me to check on you.”

Mouse’s eyes went wide and his breathing picked up. “N-n-n-nothing’s wrong. I’m f-f-f-fine.”

The older boy rolled his eyes. “Tell me another story. Maybe I’ll live that one.”

Mouse shook his head.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll send Wolf up here. He’ll get it outta you.”

Mouse’s skin turned several shades whiter. “He’ll bury me. I lost it.”

“You’ll have to speak louder than that if you don’t want Wolf here.”

Mouse glared at his brother. “I said I lost it. Wolf will bury me when he finds out.”

“What did you lose that would send you underground? You know Wolf don’t care about most things.”

“He cares about this. I lost his knife. He gave it to me and I lost it. I needed to keep it safe.” Mouse put his hand back up to his mouth and resumed his chewing. “He’s gonna bury me.”

“He ain’t gonna bury you. If he was he woulda done it years ago the first time you lost something.” The older boy placed a hand on Mouse’s shoulder. “Now come on. We gotta tell Wolf before he finds out by himself.”

Mouse swallowed hard but followed his brother out of the room.

Posted in A.P. Roberts, For the Promptless, Post a Day/Week

Cryptozoology: Tuatha de Danann

This week’s Prompt for the Promptless is Cryptozoology.


Cryptozoology is the search for legendary creatures whether to prove or disprove their existence.

I grew up hearing stories of the Tuatha de Danann. Stories that wove them into myths and legends that may not have originally been linked with them.

For those who have never heard of the Tuatha de, I will attempt to explain. They are Irish and their name means “Danu’s People” or “Danu’s Tribe”.

It is said that the Tuatha de have the stance and grace of the gods. They are descendents of Nemed. The Tuatha de arrived in Ireland by riding a black cloud which blocked out the sun for three days.

The Tuatha de had four treasures which they brought to Ireland but which were lost. My favourite of the four treasures is the Spear of Lugh though my reason for it being my favourite is because it was in Alison Baird’s books.

When I think of magical beings, I think Tuatha de. I think towering majesty and terrifying beauty.

If I could prove the existence of any magical being, I would want it to be the Tuatha de. It would be absolutely terrifying but amazingly wonderful as well.

Posted in Post a Day/Week, Writing

The Fairy’s Cure

A fairy tale that I started writing for last week’s Prompt for the Promptless. It was a 30-5 Challenge and was written in 30 minutes.


Once magic was wild and free. Depending on magic’s mood, rain could change into food or lava. The days could end up being bright with life or dark with despair.

Magic seemed to bless different creatures by giving them powers. Fairies were given the power of light and childlike wonder. Dragons were given wisdom and strength. Gnomes were given control over plants and water.

The people thought they would be blessed if they followed magic’s whims. But, try as they may, magic never seemed to bless the people with more power.

Ages went by with the people watching magic bless other creatures. The people began to crave the power that magic was giving away. Some tried to harness magic’s power and use it for themselves. But magic was too strong for them and the power consumed their bodies.

Many died in this quest for power but still the people tried.

Eventually someone had the idea to weaken magic. If magic’s power was weakened, then it would be easier to obtain.

A disease was created in the hope that it would attack magic. But it didn’t work the way they had planned. The disease attacked people and weakened them.

Confused, the creators of the disease worked furiously to create a cure. One attempt after another was made but the disease only grew stronger.

The people cried out for a hero; someone to save them from their mistake. But no one stepped forward.

Years went by with each generation growing weaker than the last. Parents were living longer than their children. Grandparents were raising grandchildren who rarely lived past their childhood.

Eventually, when the people had given up on their fate, a fairy appeared in the village. The fairy, at half the size of a small child, seemed to glow with an inner light that made grown men cower.

The fairy laughed as she danced through the streets gathering the people. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you. Follow me and I’ll teach you the secret of a long life.”

The people of the village followed the fairy, attracted by her light and the promise of a cure. When everyone was gathered in one area, the fairy began her story.

“People were created by magic. Every person has a piece of magic inside of them. When you try to steal magic that does not belong to you, then everyone suffers.” The fairy looked around. People were standing with their arms crossed and faces turned toward the ground. “When you try to make your light shine brightest then you end up dimming it instead.”

The adults of the village scoffed and dismissed the fairy. One by one the adults wandered away but the children stood in awe of what the fairy was telling them.

“When people tried to steal magic’s power, you destroyed your own magic.” The fairy pointed at the adults who were leaving. “It is too late for them but it may not be too late for you.”

The fairy stepped toward the children and sat down among them. She gestured for them to join her on the ground. “I am going to tell you how to get rid of the disease that is plaguing your people. I need you to listen closely to what I say.”

The children nodded and silently moved closer.

“You need to stop being selfish. Your light grows brighter the more you help others.” The fairy opened her hands in front of her with each palm holding a small flame. “You all have a light inside of you that is like the flames I hold. When you think only of yourself and your own power, the flame grows smaller and you grow weaker. This is what you call the disease.”

The flame in the fairy’s left hand slowly grew smaller and the children gasped in fear.

“If you help others in need then your light will grow.” The flame in the fairy’s right hand grew to twice its size. “The more you help others; the more your light grows.”

A small child, no older than four, crawled closer to the fairy. “How does you help him?”

The fairy smiled and her eyes lit up with hope. “You can help others by being nice. If someone has trouble with their chores, you can offer to help them to finish what is left. If your mother feels sick, you can clean the house or make the food. If your father is hurt, you can feed the animals or tend the crops.”

“Why are you telling us this?” asked an older girl who had her arms crossed in front of her chest. “It’s not like it will fix us.”

The fairy laughed. “It won’t fix you but it will keep you from getting sick. I’m here because magic sent me. We’ve seen the plight of people and we want to help.”

“Mom says that the disease was sent by magic because we were close to destroying it and taking its power. If we can get magic’s power then the disease will disappear.” The girl reached over and tugged on the arm of a younger girl who was sitting beside her. “We need to go Carol. Mom will be mad if we’re late.”

“But I want to stay with the fairy.” The younger girl pulled back away from her sister.

“It’s alright child,” the fairy said. “You have heard enough to help. As for your sister’s question, the disease was not sent by magic but was created by people. It was made to weaken magic but those who created it did not know that people were made of magic. This is why the disease attacks people. This is also why you must strengthen your magic to overcome the disease.”

The fairy looked around at the children. The older children looked sceptical and the younger children looked hopeful. “I will not keep you much longer but I will leave you with this knowledge. When you help others you will feel the warmth of your flame growing. The more your flame grows, the more people will try to stop you. People want to extinguish your magic; they will tell you that there is no need to help others. They will try to stop you. You must not let them extinguish your flame.”

The fairy disappeared before the children could ask more questions. Slowly, they wandered off back home; each of them lost in their thoughts of the fairy.

At first life in the village remained the same but soon it was obvious that the children were acting different.  They were helping each other with chores and doing more around the house.

The more the children helped others, the older they were before they grew sick with the disease. Some of them were able to avoid getting sick at all.

The next generation learned from the fairy’s children and grew to an age older than their parents. The generations that followed grew much older than the generations before.

Soon, the disease itself was a distant memory but everyone knew the story of the Fairy’s Cure.

Posted in Post a Day/Week, Writing

Different Languages

Innis Seun 2“So, what you are telling me is that the girls where you are from speak very differently than we speak here?” Sheehan looked at Barbara with a confused expression on her face.

Barbara nodded. “Yes, they speak a lot different from here. They still speak English… or Innis as you call it here, however with the way they speak, it is almost as if they are speaking a different language.”

“They speak Innis while speaking a different language? So they speak two languages?” Sheehan picked up her left hand and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“No, they speak one language but they way they speak it sounds as if they are speaking a different language.” Barbara shook her head and her hair waved back and forth along her back.

Sheehan stopped walking for a moment and just looked at Barbara.

Barbara rolled her eyes and reached out to give Sheehan’s arm a tug to get Sheehan moving again. “The way they speak it sounds as if they are speaking a different language when they are not actually speaking a different language.”

“Well, could you give an example?”

Barbara seemed to think for a moment. “Well, like, they like talk like this and they say like whatever and like oh my god and like things like that.”

“What does that mean?”

Barbara laughed. “I did say it was almost as if they spoke another language. I much prefer how people speak here. At least everyone says what they mean.”

“Everyone does not say what they mean.”

“Well, they mean what they say. And that is the same thing.”

“That is the same as saying I breathe when I sleep is the same as I sleep when I breathe. The sentences have different meanings.”

“Are you quoting Alice in Wonderland?” Barbara said with a light laugh.

Posted in Writing

Haikus inspired by D&D

While at work one day, I decided to work on my D&D character. I then started to write a few lines and ended up with some haikus.


Dragon takes a nap
Trolls decide to ambush camp
Grr grumpy dragon


Click here to read more.