Flash Fiction: Wishes Really Do Come True 

“God… Damn. What do you want now?” A young man in his mid twenties appeared in a doorway. A woman, roughly the same age, was slumped over the toilet. There was vomit dripping down her chin and her hair was a mess and her mascara ran down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Hector.” She managed to get out through the sobs

“Every time you’re upset. Every goddamn time. You know how frustrating that is? I’ve almost lost my job over this. And it’s sure as hell hard to explain disappearing from the bed when I’m with some chick” Hector crossed his arms and looked down at her. He realized, this time she was really upset about something big. “Why are you throwing up, Maddie?” 

“He… He came again…” Her sobs grew louder and louder until she hiccuped. 

“That asshole from the other apartment?” 

She nodded.

“What in the fuck. I told you not to mess around with him anymore.”

She sobbed again. “No, he just bursted in this time.”

“Jesus Crist, Maddie.” Hector left her apartment. 

She heard some loud banging down the hall. She didn’t mean for Hector to appear this time. She thought she could handle it on her own like she learned to do with the stress from work. But the guy down the hall must have really hurt her bad this time, she woke up not remembering the night before. More loud banging came from down the hall, accompanied by inlegible yells. When she was fifteen Maddie wished upon a Star that he’d always be around for the bad times, but she didn’t mean it litterally.

A bloodied Hector appeared in the door way. “Alright. He’s taken care of. Let’s get you cleaned up, you can sleep at my place tonight.”


Blog April 24 2017

Woah. WordPress has reminded me that I’ve had my blog for 4 years! Happy anniversary to me and to you, dear followers. I know I don’t post much anymore, to be honest I haven’t been doing a whole lot of anything lately. Lets see, last I talked about was NaNoWriMo, of which I got about 5000 words and then life got in the way. And it was another three months before that that I had written anything. Though I have played around a bit on my other blog, still just I don’t know, major writers block I guess. What do you do to cure your writers block? Something else must be goin on because I haven’t been doing much of anything I like lately either.

On the other hand I have had some stories in mind, and have most intentions to get down and write them. One will be paired with artwork and another is a sort of collaboration with a poet friend of mine. Well, maybe not collaboration? We got a prompt and wanted to see where each other will go with it, so when we get that done I’ll share with you all. Oh and there’s one that I did start for Halloween but for some reason had no direction with it.

I have always thought that half of writing is research and I’ve bought a few books over the past few months to get down and read. You know, get some inspiration. I like writing horror/thriller/scary stuff and a friend of mine gave me the Grimm Fairytales, which I’ve read some here and there but not the whole thing. I’ve also written a lot of short stories and got a book that is a collection, so I can see what that’s like if I ever decide to publish. So many ideas float in my head when I’m at work but after working 11 hours a day, I don’t feel like doing anything when I get home.

So tell me about you. How do you keep writing when you don’t have anything to write about? Where do you get your inspirations? What would you like to see from me in the future?


Blog October Thirty First

Omg. NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow. Better go prepare myself. 

Oh and Happy Halloween. 


Blog August Eight/Novel excerpt

About a week ago I decided that while I have nothing much else to do since moving in with my parents that I would really try to start writing more. I have this thought a lot honestly but what’s another go at it? A few months ago a friend asked me if I wanted to go work out with him, saying that if he had someone to go with he’d have more motivation. Our busy schedules got in the way but we did go a few times and that was fun. Well last week I asked that same friend if he’d meet me at a coffee shop and we could work on our respective arts. He likes to draw and paint and all that and he’s incredibly good at it, and while we’re talking about him I should shamelessly plug his websites so you can peruse and maybe even commission him for your own original. I know I’ve praised his work before, but some of you followers are new. You can see him here or here or even here!

So anyway, like I was saying… We met at a coffee shop and he worked on drawing stuff and I was tweeking a resume for a job and then I started writing. I finished my latest story and we talked about things and caught up because I’ve known him for at least twelve years now. We joked about my story ideas and he came up with the name Charlotte Festerbottom. I decided that would be the next story that I wrote and boy, did I start it. In fact. I’ve continued on with it about four pages and have no idea where to stop. I have no idea where she is going (but I do know where she came from, I had a lot of fun figuring out her family tree) and I haven’t yet a plot. The situation that she is in fortuneatly can have a lot of situations, which means for you dear reader….drum roll please… will have a novel to read in the near/distant future. That’s right. I stumbled upon a novel idea before NaNoWriMo is even here. Who knows, maybe I can write it all before November and have another idea for NaNo!  I’ve decided to include the beginning of Charlotte’s tale for your reading pleasure.

Charlotte Festerbottom comes from a long line of Festerbottom’s from a small island in the Midfjorden of Norway. Her great great great grandfather, Charles Festerbottom moved to the small Illinois town to open up an all in one cemetery and mortuary. Meeting a local girl named Clarice, they raised their three sons in the business. Chance and Christopher both died while away at sea with the Navy. That left Chuckie who only had one eye from birth to carry on the business. He married Clara, a local school teacher new in town, and they had Chuck and Cora. Cora became a school teacher as well but never married. Chuck and his wife Cassandra birthed five daughters before Charlie finally came. He was the pride and joy of the family and understandably, the only one willing to work with the dead. The girls all took jobs in fashion and education.

Charlie had a fascination with morbidity. His enthrallment stretched across every aspect of the dead. The family home located in the back of the cemetery land was decorated in wild taxidermy animals and shrunken heads from the Africa’s. His wife was an African medicine woman specializing in the dead named Chicha. He met her on a visit to the Congo, though it was never clear what her original nationality was. They had one son, Fester, who had ivory skin and dark black hair, he nearly resembled his great great grandfather. Rumors had spread after the death of Chicha that Charlie had gone insane, his obsession with death grew and long standing customers had become fearful of the Festerbottom services. Once Fester reached high school he had taken over most of the duties around the property, except for the care of the lawn. Charlie continued to mow and fertilize and stay to himself.

Fester brought life to the funeral home. He cleaned up older grave plots and tried everything he could to restore the original stones that Charles had placed with his own hands. Fester was also the first in the family to have modern schooling. He juggled the funeral services with correspondence classes and became the official CEO.  The long line of Festerbottoms lived modestly and therefore had a good amount of savings. Fester took some of the money to upgrade the morgue equipment and give a face lift to the buildings. He was even able to plant new trees and bushes in the entry way to really give the land a good home feeling. Some cousins came to help, but Fester did most of the hiring from the local college. He met and married Louise who interned with Fester in the office. She died shortly after Charlotte was born from lymphoma. Charlotte was lucky to survive.

Fester tried to give Charlotte a better life since she was the first only child that was a girl in the family ancestry. He kept her away from most of the proceedings of the family business, but that didn’t stop her from sneaking into funerals. He even offered to pay for college as long as it was something different than mortuary science. She vowed to pay her own way if it meant she could continue working with her father. It must have been something in the bloodlines that kept the Festerbottom children glued to that spot.

 


Tracy’s Story: The Murder

​You could chew the air, the day was so humid. The weather reporter said with the heat index, temperatures would feel as if it were 115 degrees. Tensions were understandably high but I didn’t expect my day to go the way it did.

I started the day off in first period science just like any other day. For some reason, school officials hadn’t thought to turn on the air conditioning yet. Mr. Erickson didn’t feel that opening the windows would help and had two large fans attempting to circulate the air. While they did create a small breeze, they drowned out anything he was trying to teach us so he gave us a pop quiz instead. The quiz should have been handed out on Friday so none of us were prepared. Mr. Erickson yelled over the fans that we were to do the best we could and once we turned them all in we could study for the rest of the period. For the first time all year, he had rolled up his sleeves and revealed full length arm tattoos. I’m sure if administration had an issue with that the teacher would have just walked out, he was just that kind of guy.

My next period was gym class. Ms. June didn’t bother making us get into our gym clothes, she just told us the hour was ours. Many of the class sat around talking. A few, including me, decided to catch up on homework for other classes.

Math was where my day started to get complicated. Jess and Brit shared the class with me and even though we had been great friends in elementary school they had both become jealous of me. I studied and got good grades. I didn’t judge my friends so even though I didn’t become popular like them, everyone actually liked me. My boyfriend, even though he lived two hours away and went to a fancy academy, was loyal and affectionate. It was like a typical high school story unraveling through no fault of my own. Or at least I had thought.

Jess exercised every morning before school, Wednesdays she would swim laps in the pool. Her thick dark brown hair was still wet in the pony tail. She was very fit and very short which made for a perfect body on top of the cheerleader pyramid. Boys just wanted to stare at her chest and hope to get into her pants. She was too busy working on her body to realize that that was the only thing those boys cared about too. 

Brit sang beautifully and I admired her. Except she wouldn’t share her talent with the school’s music programs. I thought it a bit selfish, but she decided she would get famous her own way. She made a demo CD and handed it out to the kids that would hang around her at lunch. But no one cared. They just wanted to be near her and she soaked that up, believing she had made a name for herself. 

The three of us got grouped together at the start of the year and I could tell neither of them were happy with the arrangement. They would be civil during class time but if we got sent home with a project neither one of them would call. Jess usually sent the email detailing what they wanted me to contribute by the end of the day. I would complete the algebraic problems, they would create the presentations and by the next morning Jess would email me again with dialogue. To Mrs. Kuriant it was as if we were the perfect students. I was okay with this agreement we had since this was one of the only classes Jess and Brit were good at and we always pulled through with an A. 

Today’s math lesson should have been a mini intro to calculus but with the heat Mrs. Kuriant borrowed one of the loud fans from Mr. Erikson and let us work on anything we chose. About half way through class Jess handed me a note. It was in Brit’s swirly handwriting telling me that they didn’t need my help with our next project, they would just send me the dialogue for the presentation the day it was due. I had a feeling in my gut that this wasn’t true, they were going to make me look like a fool and I was sure of it. Instead of making a big deal about it I walked up to the front desk and asked Mrs. K for the project outline, saying I had misplaced it. She only handed out one to the group, usually to Brit, but maybe in this heat she didn’t remember who she gave it to. She didn’t question the situation and went to her filing cabinet for the master copy. 

I looked back to the girls I used to call friends. Instead of working on the project or other homework, Brit was braiding Jess’s hair while she filed her nails. One would think after the note they gave me that they would be angered that I came to the teacher, but it was as if they didn’t even notice. Mrs. K was back quickly from the copy room and handed me the assignment I was to do all by myself. The girls’ plan to sabotage me was already beginning to fail.

I went back to my desk and slide the project information into my folder and pick up the homework I had started in gym class. The bell rang and I made my way to the basement for health class. 

Ms. June was also my teacher for health and the classroom was directly under the small gym. There weren’t any desks since she also used the room for the workout video classes. It turns out that Richard Simmons did wonders for the football team. Since she started making them watch the Sweatin’ to the Oldies they had a no lose streak. 

On the bright side, being in the basement had one advantage. It was the coolest floor of the whole high school. Ms. June actually taught her lesson on the effects of meth on the immune system, all of us sitting on the floor or yoga mats with our notebooks scribbling down notes. This was another class that I shared with Brit and Jess, but I didn’t have to interact with them. I noticed the girls were giggling a lot and not too long after Jeff, who sat behind me, handed me a piece of paper. It was another note, this time with the more manly handwriting of Jess. 

I wasn’t sure I wanted to open it or what they could possibly want to say. I continued listening to Ms. June and her advice on what not to buy at the store that made it look remotely like meth ingredients. It’s like she was inadvertently giving the druggies instructions, not that they could figure it out since I never saw any of them pass a science class with more than a D. Towards the end of class I decided to open the note. It was an attempt at blackmail. Jess and Brit said they had information on me that could turn my whole life upside down. There were some choice words there that couldn’t be said in a church. Plenty of name calling. But there wasn’t a reason, I couldn’t find the motive in their little hate note. I assumed it was just the jealousy, crumpled up the note and threw it in the trashcan behind me. 

A loud bang came ringing through the classroom. Ms. June stopped her sentence mid speech for a second and decided it was just the generators kicking in. We all were relieved, maybe the administration had finally decided to turn the air conditioning on. The noise was so loud since the generators were next to this basement classroom. Ms. June continued on with the lesson until the bell rang. 

We all filed out of class and that’s when we noticed the smoke. It filled the hallway to the stairs and students started freaking out. Girls grabbed all their things and ran, the boys almost tripped up the stairs after them. Ms. June went towards the generator room. She opened the door and a hot blazing fire leapt out. She quickly ran for the fire alarm and followed the rest of the class up the stairs. 

I’m not sure what made me stay behind, maybe it was the shock of it all. The fire quickly reached the walls and wooden hand railing. I looked from the classroom and that’s when I realized the two bodies behind me. Jess and Brit hadn’t left with the rest of the class, and there was terror in their eyes. I motioned for them to follow me up the stairs and Brit’s fist went flying into my cheek. I yelled that this was no time for them to start the fight they started in the note but Jess put up her fists as well and yelled back at me to move out of the way.

The three of us ran down the hallway to the stairs while they tried everything they could to pull me back to get ahead. Midway up the steps they began calling me horrible names and still clawing at me. That’s when I reached into my shoulder bag, next to my notebooks was a mini baby powder bottle. I’m not sure why I did it, but I grabbed that bottle, opened it with my free hand and flung it at their faces. The fire surrounding us on the hand rails followed the powder and before I turned back to run, I could see their faces behind the flames.

I didn’t look back again and they didn’t emerge outside with the rest of the students. The whole west wing of the school was engulfed before fire crews showed up. Teachers backed every one as far as they could so the mixture of fire and humidity didn’t make us students melt completely. Ms. June took her roll call papers from her clipboard and tried to account for everyone in the class. She noticed Jess and Brit were nowhere but didn’t think much of it, assuming they had run off to find other classmates.

The next few days were cancelled. The fire department determined the cause of the fire was an electrical short in the generators. It turns out that there was an excess of fans being turned on to beat the humidity. Teachers went on strike, calling for better conditions and accusing the administrators of being the cause of the fire. It was almost a week before the authorities noticed Jess and Brit were missing and for some reason they didn’t think to check the spot of the fire for a few more days. Ms. June was questioned first, I don’t know the outcome but the cops must have decided she didn’t know anything so they started questioning the other kids in my class. 

There were rumors flying around that they did it to each other. That Jess finally realized that Brit had more talent and Brit couldn’t handle the pressure of Jess being the cuter one. Another rumor was that they had actually just run away to be with each other. Maybe they had just been locked in the classroom. With each passing day the rumors got more ridiculous. That’s when they found the bodies. 

Cops put out bulletins once school resumed asking for any information on the investigation as it now was a murder case. They had found out that baby powder was used as an accelerant to burn their faces, this made them fall back on to the ground and the heat was too much, and they died of suffocation. They came to interview me but I had nothing to give them. Although I knew what happened, I didn’t feel it was a murder. My self-defense against their bullying. I had no evidence to bring to the cops. I had disposed of the note long before the fire started, and me and the two of them had no other form of communication. Even their cell phones had no evidence. The cops couldn’t figure out a motive for murder and thanks to my flawless answers they didn’t have any suspects. For all they knew, these girls just disappeared. It could have all just been a dream.


Blog July Twenty Six

I haven’t made a blog post since March. Sure, I’ve written some stories but I haven’t really told you what’s going on. And that could just be because I haven’t felt like it. But if you follow my blog, or just now discovering it, I go through bouts of nothing. Not quite writers block, I just don’t want to sit down and do it.  I haven’t even picked up a book to read. Though that is partly because all my books, including the paperwhite, are all packed up still.

But here is what I have been up to. In May I quit my job and moved from the Chicago suburbs back to my hometown on the other side of Illinois. I’ve yet to find a job, but I decided not to settle for something I am going to hate like I have in the past. In the mean time I’ve been working on myself, trying to have a good summer, and helping my parents around the house. I even got a very supportive boyfriend, and even though I left him in the burbs he makes wonderful efforts to make it not seem like a long distance relationship. He fixes problems on my car and I feed him things, so it works out great.

As for writing… I had a terrible nightmare the other night that involved killing two of my fictional best friends that I think would make a terrific story. I tried writing it but couldn’t get the right words out so I waited a day, took the dogs for a walk and cleared my mind. I’ve since picked up the keyboard again and am currently sitting on 500 words, about half my norm for short stories. It’s going to take quite a bit more then that to finish with how much detail I’ve got not having even touched where the dream actually started. My attention has also been drawn to the fact that I haven’t finished the Morty the Dragon story I started years ago, so maybe that’ll be in our future too.

So since I probably wont be finishing the story tonight, you get this. A blog post.


The Car Crash

“You’re not supposed to sit and stare you know.”

“It’s not against the law.”

“But it’s not nice.” Jake sat next to Anna on the porch swing. It was a sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. Temperatures were reaching into the 90’s, but it was nothing out of the ordinary for the small Midwest town.

“There’s a three car pileup in front of my house and what? I’m just supposed to go do my dishes or something?”

“That’s the polite thing. Imagine if that was you in the mangled up Buick there.”

“I just want to figure out what happened.” She pushed her foot off the ground and they began to swing.

Jake pointed to the front vehicle. It was some kind of older green Chevy coupe, its back end unrecognizable. “Looks like that guy didn’t see the green light. The truck in back there didn’t see the Buick and Chevy just sitting at the green light and boom. See now you don’t have to wonder anymore.”

“Jake, you’re not…”

“Not what, Anna?” His arms crossed, she knew he was angry.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what happened logically. But what about the emotions. Why did the green guy not notice the light? Was the Buick not paying attention either? Why didn’t the truck honk? There’s reasons things happen, Jake and I just want to sit and figure it out.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?” She stopped the swinging and scanned the wreckage for something that would make Jake jump in excitement.

“You’re too emotionally invested in things like this.” Jake stood and stared at her.

“I don’t see anything wrong in it. I’m not going down to ask them what happened. I’m sitting on my own porch not bothering anyone.”

“You should just go do the dishes and you know it.” He took a few steps towards the front door.

“No.” She began the swing of the seat again.

“Fine. I’ll go ask.” He turned around and walked down the stairs in an angry huff.

“Jake, now that’s not necessary.” But he didn’t hear her. She watched him walk towards the green car. He stuck his head into the window, careful not to touch the cut glass. Then she watched him walk around the other side of the Buick. He lowered himself so she couldn’t see him anymore. The police officer on the scene was helping the paramedics into the ambulance, as he turned around she thought about warning Jake.

Anna looked back at the wreck towards the truck. Jake was not there, he must have finished is snooping around but where did he go she wondered.

“Ma’am, can I have a word with you.” The police officer stood at the bottom step of her porch. She was so focused on the truck that she didn’t notice him walking her way. He seemed to be a rookie, fumbling to find a pen in his pockets.

“Oh. Uh. Yes, what is it officer?” She stopped the swinging once more.

“You can call me Henry. Uh, ma’am did you see the accident?” He finally located the pen and a small notebook in the pocket of his shirt.

She hesitated. “No, I was in my kitchen getting water ready to wash dishes. I heard a screeching tire noise and then a loud clunk. I heard another loud clunk and that’s when I came out here.”

The officer flipped through his notes. “Jake, Jake Lannister, that’s your husband, right?”

“Yeah, did you see him down there?” She looked around for him again not paying attention to the officer’s expression.

“Uh, Mrs. Lannister, that Silverado is his is, it not?” He looked towards the truck to see what she was staring at so intently for.

“He was running out to get ice cream.” Her face went blank.

“Well, as we uhm. As we see it, he’s not at fault here. But, ma’am I guess I’m just curious as to why you’re sitting here, still.” He looked back at her and took a step up.

“He was just running out to get some ice cream.”

“If he had been wearing his seat belt ma’am…” The officer took another step up and began to put his pen and notebook away.

“Ice. Cream.” They both were still. The officer staring at Anna and Anna eyes focused on the truck. The Silverado with the broken windshield, no driver in the front seat, ice cream splattered on the dash board. She finally broke the silence. “Did you find his body?”

“Well it’s on the other side of the Buick, I wouldn’t recommend going over there.”

Anna stood up and ran down the steps past the officer.

“I wouldn’t recommend that ma’am!” He yelled out to her.

She reached the Buick. Airbags deployed and all the passengers, including the baby had been taken to the hospital. She slowly walked around to the other side and held tightly to her stomach.

Jake’s body peacefully laid on a stretcher, a blanket covered him up to the neck so you couldn’t see how badly he had been hurt. With tears in her eyes, Anna sat down next to him and held his hand as paramedics rolled both of them towards the ambulance.