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 Exercises

Writing 101: A Day At The Park (Take 2)

This was written in response to Writing 101: Point of View.

My first version keeps going back to password protection so here is my second attempt at posting.


The Old Woman

‘Johnny’s going to love this sweater. I hope it fits. That boy is growing far too quickly.’ Her hands shook slightly as she twisted the yarn around the needles.

The cracking of leaves caught her attention and she glanced up. A smile graced her face at the sight of the young couple. Oh to be young and in love again.

But she was far too old to be young, she would leave that to her soon to be 3 year old great-grandson.


The Woman

The sunlight beat a perfect rhythm on her face bringing out a laugh. She grabbed her fiance’s hand and tugged him into the piles of leaves.

“Come on Frederich. It’s a wonderful day to jump in the leaves.” She kicked at the leaves in front of her. “Can you imagine how beautiful our engagement photos will turn out?”

“Anna, the photos will turn out beautiful no matter what because you are in them.”

She smiled and tugged Frederich into a hug. Her eyes caught the glance of the elderly woman who was knitting on the park bench.

That would be her one day; knitting sweaters for her grandchildren.


 The Man

Anna made his life better. Watching her childlike joy as she played in the leaves made the fight for his life worthwhile.

He knew he had to tell her. She had plans for their future that can’t work out anymore. At least, not with him.

The shock of Anna grabbing his hand pulled him out of his thoughts. “Come on Frederich. It’s a wonderful day to jump in the leaves.”

He intertwined their fingers and smiled at her.

“Can you imagine how beautiful our engagement photos will turn out?” The light twinkled off of her eyes, making her look even more like an angel.

“Anna, the photos will turn out beautiful no matter what because you are in them.” I’m the one who will make them ordinary.

Anna pulled him into a hug, lightening his mood. He spun them around; making Anna giggle.

While spinning, he noticed the old woman watching them from her seat on the bench. He noticed the small sweater, half-formed in her hands.

A lone tear creeped down his face.

That was something he could never give Anna. If she stayed with him, she would never have the children she longed for.

Posted in Challenges, Writing, Writing 101

Writing 101: A Room With(out) a View

This post was written in response to Writing 101: A Room with a View. It is being uploaded a few days late because I wanted the chance to polish it a bit. This piece does not strictly follow the twist but was inspired by the prompt.

This piece is part of a story I am writing for my SO on a private blog. There will not be updates on Birth of a Lycan through this site.

TRIGGER WARNING: This piece hints at abuse.

Continue reading “Writing 101: A Room With(out) a View”

Posted in Post a Day/Week, Writing

Meeting George

Sisterhood “I give up Emma. This place is impossible to find.” Carrianne slumped down into the leather booth and peered at her friend over the table.

“Nothing is impossible!” Emma raised her fist in the air. “We will –“

“Emma!” Carrianne sat up quickly and batted at Emma’s arm. “You don’t have to shout. I’m sitting in front of you.”

Emma smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Carrianne said while rolling her eyes. “Just remember to use your indoor voice.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Emma waved off Carrianne’s words.

“Excuse me ladies.” An elderly man with coke-bottle glasses stood by the table and handed the girls menus. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’ll have a coffee, black,” Carrianne said with a light smile.

“Do you have milkshakes?” Emma asked as she batted her eyelashes.

“Yes we do.” The man’s voice had a slight country twang to it. “We’ve got vanilla, chocolate or strawberry. I recommend the strawberry as we get them fresh from the field this time of year.”

“Excellent.” Emma peered at the man’s name tag. “George, I will have a strawberry milkshake.”

George left, presumably to make their drinks, and the girls went back to their conversation.

“Do you remember anything about Winterwood?” Emma asked.

Carrianne shook her head. “I was only five. The only thing I remember was one of the older kids kept teasing me. I think it was a boy; Matt or Mark. Something like that. I use to call him the terror.”

Emma giggled. “You? Call someone a terror? Never.”

“Oh, be quiet.” Carrianne looked over at the counter and noticed George staring at them. “People are staring.”

Emma looked around. “No they aren’t. There’s no one here to stare. Pity, I was hoping they would be cute.”

“Not customers. That old man was staring at you.”

“Who? George? He can stare if he wants. He’s sweet.”

Carrianne slapped her forehead. “Emma! We just met the man. How can you know if he’s sweet or a murderous maniac with a chainsaw?”

“Easy, he doesn’t have a chainsaw.”

“That’s because it’s getting repaired; Puts a damper on the killing.” George set a bright pink milkshake in front of Emma and a steaming cup of coffee in front of Carrianne, who had turned red with embarrassment.

“Sorry about that. I’m trying to teach her to be careful around strangers.”

“No offense.” George laughed which made his brown eyes sparkle like melted chocolate. “I grew up with a friend like her. She kept me on my toes before she moved to the city.”

“That’s sad,” Emma said while frowning. “What happened to her?”

“Well, she got married and had a little girl. Settled down better than anyone else I know.”

“That’s ‘cuz she got out all her crazy.” Emma nodded sagely.

Carrianne rolled her eyes. “George, I was wondering if you might help us. We managed to get a little lost.”

“Most people do ‘round here. Where’re ya looking for?”

“Winterwood! Home of adventure!” Emma said between slurps of her milkshake.

“Well, that is a tricky one. Not many people come through looking for that. I reckon you passed it long ago.”

“Thanks, George,” Carrianne said dismissively.

“Now hold on. I didn’t say I couldn’t help. Why are you looking for Winterwood anyway?” George pulled over a chair from a nearby table and sat down.

“Adventure, treasure –“

“My family is from there,” Carrianne interrupted Emma with a cold glance.

“What did you say your name was little one?”

Carrianne’s eyes narrowed as she subtly slipped further into the booth, away from George.

“I didn’t but my family name is Picketts.”

“You’re not Wilhelmina’s daughter by any chance?” George said, his demeanor seeming a lot more friendly.

“Yes, she was the one that told me to come. Why? Did you know her?”

“Bet she’s the friend. Your mom seems like the crazy in her youth type.”

“She was.” George laughed. “Use to talk to her all the time. But I haven’t heard from her in over a year now. Funny that she sent you. I remember her saying that she would never send her Carrie back to Winterwood.”

“You haven’t heard from her because she died,” Carrianne stated. “She had cancer.”

“May she rest in peace.” George made the sign of the cross on his body.

Carrianne frowned. “You’re catholic? I never would have expected that.”

“Because I work on the reservation or because I look Native? I am a Catholic Native though. I even go to Mass twice a week.”

“No, it’s not either of those things. It’s just something Mom said about Winterwood. I thought everyone around here was part of a crazy religious cult. You seem surprisingly normal.”

George laughed and stood up. “Sit tight, I’ll draw you a map and make you some breakfast. It would have been a long drive from the city to get here.”

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


This piece is an accompaniment to Do You Remember Winterwood? and, as such, has a sad tone. If you have problems dealing with illness and death, I would ask you to skip this piece.

(Sadness warning included for Fibee5 and anyone else who needs it. 🙂 )

Continue reading “Burial”

Posted in Challenges, For the Promptless, Post a Day/Week, Writing

Emma’s Vision Board

I think I like Prompts for the Promptless byRarasaur. So far I’ve been completing them every week. This weeks prompt is “Total Monet” and I also took some inspiration from my previous post “Hospitals Are Not Sexy“.

“Hey mom,” Carrianne poked her head around the door of her mother’s hospital room. “Are you awake?”

“Hmm?” The brown-haired woman slowly eased herself into a seated position.

“Mom, you don’t have to sit up. It’s just me and you need your rest.”

“I’ve had enough rest. I’ve been lying down all day.” Carrianne’s mother let out a weak smile. “Sitting up will do me some good.”

“Well, I have some good news. I was talking to the doctors and they said that they have an idea of what’s going on. They’re just waiting for the tests to come back.” Carrianne set her bag on the chair by her mother’s bed.

“I know Sweety. They told me earlier.”

“Okay, then how about good news number two?” Carrianne rummaged through her bag for a moment before pulling out a sheet of paper. “Emma made you a present.”

The laugh that greeted that statement sounded weak and tired. “Is it another self-portrait?”

“No, it’s the vision board I told you she was working on the other day.” Carrianne unfolded the paper revealing a collage of bright images.

“It looks interesting.”

Carrianne walked over to the bulletin board and pinned the vision board so that it was viewable from the bed. “If you squint your eyes it looks like a flower. But I’m not sure if she did that on purpose or not.”

“It does look better over there. Reminds me of that painter. You know, the one who used the dots.” Hazel eyes began to drift shut and Carrianne’s mother let out a yawn.

“Mom, lie down. You’re falling asleep and sitting up isn’t doing you any good. You need your rest.”

“What I need is to get better so I can go to your graduation.”

“You need rest in order to get better.”

“And you need to go to school in order to graduate.”

Carrianne smiled. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go to my classes and you will get more rest.”

Her mother would have replied but sleep had proven to be stronger than her will to stay awake.


Before you leave, check out the other wonderful promptless bloggers this week:

Mama Bear Musings – A Total Monet

Serendipity – Pretty Messy Life

TheMatticusKingdom – Details

One Starving Activist – Someone’s Baby Once

Repressed Expressions – Ode to the Hair on my Chinny-Chin-Chin

Goodbye Whoopie Pie – Crinkling Monets

Journey Called Life… My Myopia and a Total Monet

This Typing Makes Me Look Busy … – Ding Dong, Crazy is Gone

Memoirs of an Unremarkable Man – Don’t Look Too Close, Except You Should

The Seeker’s Dungeon – Forgive Me for Seeing Only Cowardice

Sue’s Trifles – Monet Prompt

Cognitive Reflections – A Total Monet

Breathing Space – Ready for my Close Up

Posted in A.P. Roberts, Challenges, For the Promptless, Writing

Hospitals Are Not Sexy

Once again I’m trying my hand at Prompts for the Promptless byRarasaur. This weeks prompt was “Vision Board”.


“I don’t care who you’re talking to. Hospitals are not sexy. In fact, they are the furthest thing from sexy that there is.” Carrianne sighed into the payphone she was using. “I’m telling you Emma, I am so done with the hospital fantasy. Actually, I’m just done with hospitals.”

“Carrianne? That you? Because the number is funky and you’ve had a sexy doctor in the hospital fantasy since I’ve known you.”

“I’m on a payphone. I get crap for signal here. And yes, I’m done with hospitals. I’ve spent the last week sleeping in hospital chairs by mom’s bed. They are not comfortable and definitely not sexy. I cannot believe that I ever wanted to have sex in them.”

“What about the doctor part of the fantasy? Please tell me they’re cute.”

Carrianne shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been too worried about mom to pay attention to what the doctors look like.”

“She that bad? I thought the docs knew what it was and she was getting treatment.”

“They have theories but the tests always come back negative. She’s been seen by at least three different specialists this week alone. Each of them has a different theory about what’s going on. I just wish they would find out what’s going on before telling us their theories. It’s getting a bit tiring to get our hopes up only to have them brought back down when the results come in. Every time they tell us what they think is going on, we get excited because we think she’ll get treatment soon. Then the test results come back and we’re told that she doesn’t have what they thought and they need to do more testing.”

“That sucks. Have you told the docs that you want facts not fiction?”

“And have them tell me nothing? I couldn’t deal with that. I mean, I already can’t do anything but at least they’re telling me something right?” Carrianne sat down against the wall.

“You might not be able to do anything but I know what I can do.”

“Take notes for me in class?” Carrianne asked hopefully.

“The notes are online. I don’t need to take them. But, do you have any pictures of your mom from before she got sick?”

“The professors always say things that aren’t in the online notes. I need you to write them down so I don’t miss anything.”

“Don’t change the subject. Do you have a picture of your mom I can use?”

Carrianne rolled her eyes. “Maybe. Check my desk, if I have one it’s there. Why do you need it?”

“I’m going to add it to my vision board.”

“No.” Carrianne’s voice was clipped and her grip on the phone tightened.

“It will help send out vibrations of good health.”

“I don’t care what you think it will do. It won’t work and I’m not going to let you destroy a picture of my mom for it.”

“I’ll make a copy then. All I want to do is add a photo of your mom to my vision board. If I have something to focus on, like seeing your mom healthy, then I can send her healing vibes. Maybe I’ll even put on one of those doctor snake things so I can send smart vibes to the doctors. Besides, what will it hurt to try? The doctors haven’t been able to do anything yet because they haven’t figured out what’s going on. Maybe with some good vibes going their way, they’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Carrianne sighed into the handset. “Fine. I guess you’re right. It wouldn’t do any harm but I still find it ridiculous.”

“You have two minutes remaining. To speak longer please insert more coins.” A robotic voice cut into Carrianne’s side of the conversation.

“Listen Emma, I’ve got to go. The payphone says it wants more money and I don’t have any more change on me. When I can get away for a bit, I’ll find a signal and text you.”

“Bye Carrianne. I’ll see you when your mom’s better and you get back.”

“If I come back.”

“You will. Give your mom my best.”

“I will. Bye Emma.” Carrianne’s shoulders dropped as she hung up the phone. With a heavy heart she began the walk back to her mother’s hospital room.


Before you leave, check out the other wonderful promptless bloggers this week:

Hyperlocal Hero – #87 ~ ~ Hyperlocal Hero – #88

Things I See and Know – Envisioning

Journey Called Life… – Vision Board

Live, Love, Laugh, Dance, Pray – Vision Board

Bodhisattva In Training – What’s Your Vision

How to Dance – Vision Board

The Matticus Kingdom – Complete

A Sign of Life – Vision Board

Serendipity – Vision Board

Breathing Space – Just Say Whatever To That Vision Board

The Seeker’s Dungeon – Visionless Expression

Mama Bear Musings – Vision Board

Repressed Expressions – My Ignored Vision Board

Cognitive Reflection – Vision Board

Fish of Gold – Welcome to Fish House

Indira – Wish List

One Starving Activist – Vision of the Desired Call

Stuphblog – Vision Boards?

Rarasaur – My Biggest Fear

Posted in Writing

Alyssa is Sold

Jeremiah's Story“And now on the block we have a small blonde from Canaan.”

A large man shoved Alyssa up the steps before her. She stumbled up the few steps, righting herself once she reached the small platform by throwing her tied up hands in front of her.

“We will start the bidding at five credits. Do I hear five credits?”

Alyssa’s heart beat loudly, overpowering the voice of the auctioneer. Her body trembled as she stood, naked, in front of the people who were bidding on her.

Please let me go somewhere where I’ll be safe and treated well. Please don’t send me to my death. Alyssa thought as the bids grew in size.

“I have eight credits from number twenty-nine. I have eight credits, who will give me nine? I have eight credits, do I hear nine?”

Alyssa’s thoughts strayed to the stories she heard from the other people in her compartment. Stories about what different households did to the girls they bought. Stories about rape and abuse. Stories about suicide and murder. And all Alyssa could do was hope that she was one of the lucky ones. That she would be one of the ones who survive.

“Sold to number forty-two for twenty-one credits. Our biggest sale today. If you will go over to the counter to pay, you can pick up your slave.”

Posted in Challenges, Writing

The Colour Red

*Warning: This post may be controversial or triggering in manner. It is not meant to offend and if it does, I apologize. However, if you feel the need to post comments meant to inflame or offend, please know they will not be tolerated and will be promptly deleted.**

***Please note that this is a work of fiction. The events told in this piece are not true though they were inspired by several articles read online such as and***

Continue reading “The Colour Red”