Archive for March, 2013

I can’t believe I am going through this again. I spent the late part of the 90’s letting my teens go into the world and find their path. I chose to trust them, trust their core values and decision-making.  One was a quick learner who found school easy. She was an out-going child with artistic talent that I thought would storm the world. The other was an overly intelligent kids who like quiet activities, reading, writing and music. I felt he may struggle in the world.

It was hard to stand by when they were turning 18. I imposed a curfew as long as they were in school, and I continued to dole out chores as a sign of being part of a family unit. But school ended, they were legal and I went to bed each night with a ball in my stomach. It wasn’t normal to go to bed without my babies safely in their rooms. One thrived in life and now has a family, job and connection with us. One struggled a bit more and set out for a change.

We hit speed bumps, got them out of a few minor scrapes, pushed and supported them, but it wasn’t easy as a mom. The first night your adult kid is in the world, with no rules and no curfew is scary, I don’t care who you are.

Fast forward 26 years and see me raising three grandkids’. Then realize that your oldest, who is a walking calculator, fast learner, hard-working, wise beyond his years kid is graduating early and out in the world. He has been given a curfew and always comes home early. He has never been caught smoking, drinking or doing drugs. He loves aviation, history and computers.

But he is out there! All alone, saying he may be home by one or two am. ARGHHH!

Here we go again. I have to let them run. I have to hope that what they were taught will be enough ammo for them to make good decisions.

Will I sleep well for a bit? NO!  If I make it through this one, I have two more to go. Oh hell, who needs sleep?

I can do this, I can do this, I CAN do this! Right?

Hugs to all the parents out there.

My entry to the 100 word challenge. Enjoy or head over to their site to submit your submission.

Misbehaving it said. Misbehaving my ass she snarled, tossing the paper to the ground. The over publicized idol in the picture had no idea of what it meant to misbehave.  Unfurling her tail she faced the moon, light glistened over her razor-like teeth as she laughed. Some called her Werewolf, but she was older, much older, and deadlier. Making her way to the concert hall she anticipated the day she could enjoy her paper without the face of another media whore staring back over her breakfast. Licking her lips she dispatched the guard and slipped into the building.

First, thanks for the tribute Ted and Congrats to Rochelle on the book!

Second, for visitors, submit your own poem or a short story of 100 words or less, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or submit your work HERE, or click on the little blue guy at the bottom.

Writing tips, typo alerts and comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.

lamps

One minute she was pushing a cart through the aisles, the next she was a miniature in a sick dream. The last thing she remembered was Marie, the mother of the child she hit, handing her some beads. It wasn’t her fault, the kid wasn’t in a cross walk! She did stop, and the kid was breathing, so she took off. No cops, no pay out.

She hadn’t known terror until Marie’s giant face appeared.

“You are a small person and now you shall live like one. Do your best to stay away from the bottom of my shoe.”



Submit a poem or a short story of 100 words or less, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read entries, or submit your own HERE, or click on the little blue guy at the bottom of the pageThank you Rochelle for keeping us going! Add you story to the Inlinkz tool so others can find your work. Simple and fun! Suggestions and pointers welcome.

thirsty (1)
“Give it six months my ass!” she growled, tossing her keys on the table. Take the job they said, it’ll be good for you. She  listened because the break-in freaked her out. Her T.V. and any anything of value was gone. She could forgive that, but not the loss of Boo.

She was making dinner when a noise caught her attention. Grabbing a knife, she made her way to the door. Tears filled her eyes when she saw Boo yanking the hose, looking for a drink. He was thinner, and dirtier, but he found her.


Submit a poem or a short story of 100 words or less, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read entries, or submit your own HERE, or click on the little blue guy at the bottom of the pageThank you Rochelle for keeping us going! Add you story to the Inlinkz tool so others can find your work. Simple and fun! Suggestions and pointers welcome.

lilies-lora-mitchell

 Copyright – Lora Mitchell

Plant in place, phone on, camera ready. Mom sent the plant and mom would want proof it arrived, plus she owed her a thanks and a little gratitude. She pressed the button once, then again from a different position, gasping as a body hurtled by the window.

Recognizing the fluttering, cobalt blue robe, she knew in a heart-beat that her well-connected husband had learned about her penthouse affair with Vince. Dropping the phone she shoved some clothes and money into a tote bag before bolting down the stairs and into her future.

 

She had read a quote once that said; “Everything you ever did, saw or learned has brought you to this moment.” After what she had just witnessed, she hoped to hell there was a delete button because she didn’t want to keep anything that had led her to this. She didn’t want any part of what she had just seen in her future. She knew he heard her muffled scream when he spun to face the darkness, sneering as he taunted her.

“So, you saw that did you?” He growled. “Why don’t you come out so I don’t have to chase you!”

Backing down the ally her blood ran cold as she waited for her mind to tell her what to do. Spinning in terror, she bolted. The image of him plunging the knife into that girl, over and over and over again consumed her mind as she searched for her next move. Had he seen her face? Could he identify her? She hoped not, but she had seen him, clearly. That knowledge would get her killed if she wasn’t careful.

Choosing to crouch behind a dumpster instead of running in the open, she froze, afraid to breath as she listened to his footsteps. Squeezing against the wall, she peered through the space between dumpster and wall, watching as he reached the end of the alley. Stopping, the knife clenched in his hand, he peered down the walk before turning to scan the alley. Her heart threatened to burst as she held her breath, certain he would discover her hiding place.

“Bitch!” He shouted, wiping the knife on his pants before turning the corner.

After what seemed like hours, she emerged from her hiding place, sore and cold. Inching her way down the alley she stopped at the corner to gather her courage. Sticking her head around the wall she gazed left and right before making her move. Neither the pair of kissing teens or the elderly man drinking coffee seemed threatening so she took a deep breath and stepped out, intending to go to the police. Hurrying through the darkness she jumped when she heard his voice.

“Hey bitch!”

She tried to run, but when he grabbed the back of her coat she panicked. Spinning around she flailed at his chest, knocking him into the street. There were was a scream from the kissing couple as the taxi rolled over his body. Dropping to the walk she waited for the police.

Submit a poem or a short story of 100 words or less, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read entries, or submit your own HERE, or click on the little blue guy at the bottom of the page. Thank you Rochelle for keeping us going! Add you story to the Inlinkz tool so others can find your work. Simple and fun! Suggestions and pointers welcome.

deco lamp

copyright – Jennifer Pendergast

A well-connected designer didn’t need a reason for being in a person’s house. It was a nice life, until now. She had never seen a dead body before, let alone someone she knew. Hearing a noise in the kitchen, she bolted through the door in time to see a  chunky man in a trench coat flee into the yard.

Returning the hall, she tried to control her shaking as she touched the woman lying on the sculpture, with a knife in her back. No pulse, no breath and soon, no job. Pulling out her phone, she dialed 911.