Archive for July, 2012

Check out Madison Wood’s blog if you want to read, or write a story of your own for this weekly exercise. You get a photo prompt and a few days to write a 100 word story to share with the Fictioneers.

Feel free to comment or critique my work as long as it is constructive and not mean. ­čÖé Story is about 25 words over 100.

Clinging to the shadows, the old man skirted the barn to avoid detection. Giving the horse a carrot to buy her silence, he froze, listening for signs of movement.  So far, so good, he thought, working his way through the rusty tools and lumber scattered over the ground. The last thing he needed was to get caught,  not when he was so close to the hidden  treasure in the water can that use to slake the thirst of sweaty ranch hands.

Pulling the jar from his pocket he opened the tap, letting an inch of liquid into the jar before pouring it down his throat, smiling as the heat spread.

“Gosh Darn!” he grinned, taking another swig, ┬á“Sure hope that nag I married doesn’t find this stash!”


This is my entry to the Picture it and Write exercise. You can read all the entries or submit one of your own at

Here is the photo prompt, and my story.

The murky alley looked fuzzy and far away as she gazed through the liquid mercury, watching unwary people go about their day, but she knew this was her world, the one her family lived in. Feeling trapped behind the mirror she touched its surface, finding it fluid and warm. Pushing forward she held her breath as the silver liquid caressed her body. With a gasp she opened her eyes, realizing she was breathing real air, standing on familiar, solid ground.

The first sound she heard was Mr. Fritz telling his boy to sweep the store before he went out to play. She didn’t know where she had gone, or how long she was gone, but she knew she never wanted to leave her own world again. What was behind that mirror was terrifying and evil. Turning back she picked up a trash can and smashed the mirror to pieces before going home to hug her mother.



Hester remembered taking refuge under this grape arbor years ago, to escape a scorching August sun. When Bill appeared she felt safe and warm instead of concerned over the actions of a brazen young man.  Could it really have happened so long ago? Her once raven locks were now thinning and silver, her back, bowed with age, but her love for her Bill was timeless.

Leaning into the trellis, she closed her eyes, feeling a warmth spread through her heart as she took her last breath, smiling when her Bill appeared to take her hand.

One day, while playing Pictionary with my kids, I hit on the idea of putting slips of paper naming random objects, places or people in a jar, I added slips that had the name of different genres or events such as mystery, romance, humor, eerie, horror, party, wedding, funeral etc.

Then, when I was in a writing slump I would draw slip from this old peanut jar and match a random object with a random genre, ┬áscenario or event. ┬áI challenged myself to build a story around these items, keeping it to 250 words or less. Stuck in my studio due to excessive heat, and bored out of my gourd, I remembered the jar and pulled out two slips. (sometimes I end up pulling out two objects, but I just throw one back in and draw again, until I have a genre or event.) Poetry or fiction, it doesn’t matter.

The slips I pulled out this week were;

Object: Sun dress
Genre: Romantic Mystery

I invite you all to create your 250 word story using these prompts. You can leave the link to your stories in the comment sections. I would love to read everyone else’s version of the prompts I am using. (250 words is my personal guideline, feel free to post a few less, or a few more words.)

OK, my story below. Looking forward to reading others.

Watching the cream blend into her morning coffee, she jumped as something fluttered onto her balcony. Rising to investigate she found a pile of lilac colored material adorned with pastel flowers. It looked clean so she bent to pick it up. Letting it unfurl, she realized it was a sundress. Gauzy and flowing, with tiny straps and a bandanna hemline, something she herself might buy.

When a knock interrupted her thoughts she moved to answer it, asking who it was before releasing the  dead bolt.

“Police ma’am, we are investigating a death in the building and would like to ask you some questions.”

Dress in hand she opened the door and the detective froze when he spotted the dress in her hand.

“Where did you get that?”

“It fluttered onto my balcony a few minutes ago,” she sputtered.

“May I have it please,” he said in a voice that sounded more like an order than a request. She quivered as his fingers brushed her arm and she felt him freeze as he gazed into her eyes. “You don’t know it, but you may have just broken this case wide open,” he said before marching off.

When he returned the following day, and she knew he would return, he told her a suspect described the victim in the dress, but when they found her she was nude, only the killer would have known about the dress before he raped and killed her. Eternally grateful to the sun dress, they found the love of a lifetime.

Picture it and write with ermilia. Write a paragraph of fiction to accompany the image.
Or, it can be a poem. Anyone who wants to join in is welcome. Post a link to your story in their comments.

Men forgot to breathe and woman stared as she walked through the door, clouded by a haze of smoke. A first glance would steer you towards, tart, floozy, man toy, but there was something, a small something that left you unable to avert your eyes. She mesmerized one and all as she threaded her way through the room. Men tried to focus on their dates but failed as their eyes were pulled into her aura. Every movement, every breath, every sip made a man want to possess this creature, protect it, please it. Her lips caressed the straw jutting from her glass, leaving those around her envious, wanting those lips as their own. He alone knew the secret behind those lips, and he alone would silence them before the sun rose. Smiling, he sent a drink to her table, and she, smug in the thought he remained under her spell, returned his smile. He would find silence soon.

Newest entry in Madison Woods “Friday Fictioneers” exercise. Feel free to comment, I can always learn something new from others.

Same dream, every night, what did the damn bird want? Did it represent that bitch suing him for harassment for a playful swat on the ass?  Maybe it was that cow of an ex-wife whose lawyer found his hidden bank account. Vultures, they were all vultures out to screw him over.

Maybe this time would be different.  The bird cast his wings skyward, fixing its piercing eyes on his face. He waited with bated breath as the bird finally broke his silence.

“You’re an ass!” it squawked, taking flight.

The Dark Stain

Posted: July 11, 2012 in Uncategorized, writing
Tags: ,

Climb, scale, higher
The tree shelters, hugs

Hide, shake, throw up
he is near

Invisible near the sky
I am far from that world

He won’t, he can’t touch me
I am child, he is man
It’s wrong, so wrong

I shrink into the bark
safe for now.

I hate him
You must see
Help me