Monday, March 28, 2016

Don't Panic Picture Prompt: March 28, 2016

Hah!  I got at least one post up on time this week!  I got one taker on last week's Don't Panic Picture Prompt.  Let's see who's brave enough to step up to the challenge this week.  500 words.  Connect it somehow to the picture below.  Due by 11:59 pm on Sunday April 3rd.  Add a link to your blog post or your piece in the comments below.

Waimea Canyon in Hawaii - photo taken
during my vacation there in 2014

Random Sunday - The Weather, Insomnia, and Easter Egg Hunts

Yes - I know it's Monday.  What can I say?  Between Easter and a now sick toddler, things got a little off around my house.  Anyways.  Here's this week's Random Sunday.

Ugh.  I am so glad it’s starting to get warm, but I’m getting sick of the volatile mood the weather has been in lately.  I mean 50 degrees one day and 25 degrees the next?  Come on!  I can’t adjust that fast!  Just get warm and stay warm already!  It probably doesn’t help that I’m also sick of being cold all the time.

While I’m on a complaining tangent, can I also add insomnia to the list?  I had to get up at like 5:30 am Sunday morning to be at church by 6:45 am for music rehearsals before Easter Sunday service.  Despite the sleep medication I took, do you think I could sleep?  Nooooo.  I was up like a dozen times.  Well, maybe not quite that many, but I know I was up more often than I was asleep, or at least it felt that way.  I did take a nap that afternoon, which wasn’t really that much.  Then, do you think I could sleep Sunday night?  Of course not!  Ugh.

Okay.  Off the complaints.  My son was so funny today.  He’ll be four this summer.  Today we did an Easter egg hunt with him.  We tried last year, but he was a little too little to understand what to do then.  This year – he got it.  But, he has no real clue how to look for the eggs.  He walked by Easter eggs multiple times, totally oblivious to them.  Then he was so totally surprised when he did find them.  He was so adorable!

Master Class: Fighting For a Prize

I know!  I'm late.  I don't have much of an excuse.  But I did manage to get two of the three Master Class prompts worked into this piece.  Here's the latest in the White Wolves series.  Also be sure to check out other excellent responses via the Master Class button below.


            “Waylon,” the leader of the three started, “You flea-bitten, mangy, pathetic excuse of an omega.”
            In the pause Rhys jumped in, “That’s quite the set of flowered insults there, Jennings.”
            Jennings made for Rhys, but the other two stopped him.  They both spoke softly to Jennings for several seconds.  Finally, Jennings quit baring his teeth and growling.
            “Mr. Harris wants to see you,” Jennings said, a tinge of a gravelly rumble still coloring his voice.
            “I don’t care.  Harris has no territory here,” Rhys moved to the center of the small bar, blocking Jen from the men.
            Jen scooted back further into the corner.  She’d hung around her ex and his loser friends long enough to recognize when a fight was brewing.  She watched as the men squared off.  Jennings was in front of Rhys.  The other two shifted to encircle him.
            The bartender stepped to Rhys’s back.  No words were spoken.  Even as the first punches were thrown, Jen didn’t know who struck first, Jen found it to be an eerily silent disturbance.  All five men moved with supernatural sleek.  Punches and kicks were doled out in a blur.  Blood seemed to spring into existence from nowhere on all five men.  It was the only sign Jen saw that any of the punches or kicks landed.  None of the strikes seemed to phase the men.
            Then, just as quickly as it started, the brawl was over.  And in the same deafening stillness.  Jennings and his two boys had been pushed back to the door.  Rhys and the bartender were rather battered, but clearly were the victors.  The only trouble was that Jen wasn’t certain what they’d won.
            Rhys growled, a low rumbling reminiscent of the wolf she’d seen him become just a little while ago.  The two men with Jennings ducked their heads and backed out of the bar.  Jennings stood his ground.
            “Tell Harris he has no business here.  This territory, and everything in it, belongs to me.  If he wants it, tell him he’ll need to come get it himself.”
            Jen blinked several times and studied Rhys again.  The danger laced into those words was impressive for a man who’d been nothing but polite and respectful to her.  She felt the panic rising in her.  What had she gotten herself into?  Taking several deep breaths, Jen reminded herself it was all for Cullen.  There was nothing she would not do for her son.
            Jen had missed the last exchange of words.  She watched as Jennings slunk out of bar, not quite turning his back on Rhys.  Once the door was closed, the bar tender locked it while Rhys collapsed into a chair near Jen.
            “Are you going to be okay?  I mean do I need to take either of you to the hospital or something?”
            “No.  Jerry’ll get the first aid kit.  Then we’ll both be just fine.”
            “What did they want?  For this Mr. Harris?”
             Rhys shot her a steady, level look, “They wanted you.”


Master Class Featured Image

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Studio 30 Plus: An Answer

Studio 30 Plus gave us spring and/or vernal this week for our prompts.  I had an idea of how to use both in this scene from my Weather Riders serial, but it got too long to work vernal in.   So watch for it next week!  Also, be sure to stop by Studio 30 Plus to check out other great authors via their button below.


                There really wasn’t much more I could do.  I still couldn’t move very well, though that was improving every minute.  I didn’t recognize where we were and had no idea how long I was out.  It was overcast, but no storms, so I was struggling to even figure out which direction we were going.  I was in a world of hurt and had no way out.  I found myself wishing Caiden would turn up somehow.
                We drove for at least two more hours, all of which were in the middle of nowhere.  After an eternity, we turned off the highway onto a dirt road that ended at a dilapidated farmhouse.
                We’d gone north.  I could tell that from the vestiges of snow under the trees and in the shadow of the house as we pulled up in the almost non-existent driveway.  The spring thunderstorms hadn’t made it this far north yet.  However, there were no other clues so I still didn’t know much more about our destination.
                Two men came to the car.  I’d missed them at first, though they had been waiting on the porch.  They pulled me out of the car with a disturbing nonchalance.  They were neither taking special care to assist me, nor were they deliberately cruel.  I was no more than a bit of luggage to them.
                “You sure she’s the one?” the taller of the two men asked.
                “Yes.  There is no doubt.”
                “You said that last time, Edward.”
                “Enough, Micah.  It is not as if the ones we seek will advertise their presence to us.  Besides, she was able to fulfill what we needed with her talent.  She lacked the strength.  This one is stronger.”
                “Any of you want to fill me in on this?” I glanced around.
                “What have I not answered for you?  I have explained that we are in dire need of your assistance.”
                I blinked several times.  Had I heard Edward right?  He really thought he’d explained it all to me even though he’d told me nothing.
                “You never told me what you need me so badly for.” I couldn’t help the sarcasm that crept into my voice at that point.
                “As I said previously, that will be made plain soon.  Please, step inside.”
                Micah and his partner still had me by the arms so I didn’t have much choice but to follow Edward through a screen door that dangled by one hinge and was lacking most of the screen.
                The smell hit me first while my eyes worked to adjust to the dim interior.  Unwashed bodies riddled with disease.  The house wasn’t unsanitary, but filled with many people who gave the distinct impression there was something seriously wrong with them.  Visual details started to solidify.  Most of the people in the house were male.  Thin.  Clean.  Sick.
                “Do you see what we face?”
                My jaw worked for several seconds before my voice caught up, “Yeah.  But what do you want me to do?  I’m a chef, not a doctor.”
                “It is not a doctor they need.  They, we, need your power.”
                “You want me to guide a storm here?  How would that help?”
                “It would not, and that is not what we need.  We need your power directly from your body and soul.”

                Yep.  Caiden could come riding in any time to rescue me as my shocked brain worked to process what Edward really wanted from me.  All I heard was a gust of wind catch the screen door and slam it against the jam on its one poor abused hinge.



Also - the Don't Panic Picture Prompt is live and you have until Sunday at ll:59 pm CST to take the challenge!

Monday, March 21, 2016

Don't Panic Picture Prompt: March 21st, 2016

I know.  I didn't get the prompt posted the last couple weeks.  But, I have good reason.  I was in New Orleans for my graduation.  So, your picture for the prompt comes from that trip.  The same rules apply - keep it to about 500 words, due by 11:59 pm CST, link up or paste your work via the comments below.  Let's see what ya'll got!



St. Louis Cathedral - taken my first day in New Orleans


Sunday, March 20, 2016

Random Sunday - Stubbornness, House Cleaning, and Technology

                I’ve really not done well lately at writing anything but responses to prompts.  Bringing Random Sunday back is one attempt at starting to do that.  So, without further ado, here’s this week’s Random Sunday.

                Man.  My mom got her wish.  My son is turning out to be one stubborn little boy.  Not that different than his mommy.  Which is not working out well when it comes to the whole potty training thing.  He is so close to being potty trained, but just won’t finish.  Wonder if my mom is regretting her wish for me to have a child just like me.  Maybe I can ship him off, figuratively speaking as we live less than a mile from my parents, to my mom and let her have him for a while.  Yeah. Right.  Not going to happen.

I’ve noticed something.  It seems like no matter what I do, I can’t keep my house clean.  Not like I’m a fastidious housekeeper anyway.  But seriously, I get tired of tripping on stuff all the time.  And no matter how often I pick things up, there’s still more there.  Does the stuff multiply in the dark?  Or does it spawn from the odd socks lost in the laundry?  Whatever it is, I wish it would stop. 

I got the new Apple Watch as my graduation present.  Well.  I bought it with the money I got for my graduation.  Figured it was an acceptable thing to get myself for finishing my Master’s.   Now, while I wanted it and am loving having it, learning new tech drives me nuts.  They change things just enough that they don’t quite work the same as what I already know, but keep it similar enough to make me think it’s the same.  Very frustrating even though I’m having fun playing with the new tech and willingly went there.

Saturday, March 19, 2016

Master Class: Beginning to Understand

The wonderful folks over at Our Write Side gave us a great choice of prompts this week for our Master Class assignment.  I chose supreme dishonor to continue my White Wolves serial.  If you've missed previous pieces of the story, click here.  Also, be sure to check out the wonderful stories others have written for Master Class this week via their button below.


                Rhys stared down at the table, tracing designs in the drops of condensation that had run down the side of his glass of beer.  He could feel her watching him, sense the desperation and pain at the absence of her son, and all but taste the need for a distraction from that abject misery. 
However, he also knew he couldn’t answer her question.  At least not as truthfully as she wanted, and he wasn’t prepared to lie to her.  Something about her was different from most of the people the White Wolves worked with.  Something that kept pushing past his defenses, making the case more personal than he cared to allow it to be.  And Rhys knew she wasn’t ready to be that fully indoctrinated into his world.  It would come.  Of that there was no doubt.  Jen had taken that chance, and there was no way out of it.  Dumping a whole new world, literally, on her in one night was too much, though.  For anyone.
Jen cleared her throat.
“Let’s just leave it at there’s quite a bit more to my world than what you currently know.  Trust me when I say it is better to learn about it in small doses.”
Jen sat in the ensuing silence, slowly stirring her drink.
“I know how difficult this is for you, but we must remain focused on your son and your ex.”
“What does he have to do with any of this other than dragging me into some fairy tale world?”
Rhys arched an eyebrow at the venom in her voice, “We have reason to believe he and his pack may have instigated the abduction of your son.”
“Why?”
“I am still checking in to some things, so I’m not certain I have the full answer to that.  If you were part of our world, it would be the most supreme dishonor imaginable among the packs.”
“What do you mean?”
Rhys noticed her ability to compartmentalize the subject so she could keep her emotions locked away.  Admirable and valuable considering the circumstances, but he knew from experience that it could only last so long before everything fell apart.
“To take a child, a pup, from its mother is effectively saying the mother is incompetent of raising her own young.  The primary purpose of a mother in the packs.”
“In other words, she’s considered useless.”
Rhys nodded, “I’m sure that has a little to do with it, but it’s not enough to explain the risk as you knew nothing about this world until tonight.”
“So now what?”
Their conversation was interrupted by the door to the run down bar opening.  Three lean, middle aged men in torn jeans and biker jackets sauntered in.
“Waylon.  We’ve been looking for you.”


Master Class Featured Image

Friday, March 18, 2016

#TuesFlashFicTrain: Transformations

Hey ya'll!  I had a short hiatus there as I was down in New Orleans for my graduation.  Now I gotta help finish Rita's story on #TuesFlashFicTrain.  The link here will take you to the previous parts of the story as well as other submissions for how her story should end.  Here's my ending coming in at exactly 400 words.

                Everything froze.  Glass shards twinkled in mid-air like tiny stars reflecting the bright heat of her rage.  The first drops of blood that had begun to stream from their eyes hung like macabre parade streamers.
                “Rita.”
                She looked up.  The old woman was shaking her head as she stood up.  Her form blurred as she moved toward Rita.  By the time she’d crossed the short distance to stand in front of Rita, the old woman had become a stunning raven-haired woman in her thirties.
                “Morrigan,” Rita whispered.
                “Did you not recognize me?”
                “I’ve never seen you as an old woman.”
                Morrigan shook her head, “Where is your awareness of power?  Surely you sensed mine.”
                Rita paused.  She had felt something.  That was what brought up those memories.  It wasn’t the eyes; it was Morrigan’s power that conjured the eyes.
                “Forgive me.  I should have known.”
                “You know I am Death; therefore, not so very forgiving.”
                Rita bowed her head.  Death was never lenient and she knew it.  She’d known it back when all of this started.  Part of her regretted her choice back then.  So many things would have been different.  Easier.
                “Come, child.  Do not regret your choice to serve me.  I may not be forgiving but I am not unreasonable.  I know the pain you have suffered in my name.  The memories my presence stirred up.”
                Rita began to sob.  She would have fallen had Morrigan not caught her and guided her to a seat.  Certain Morrigan had left by the time Rita could breathe again, she squared her shoulders and braced herself to face the mess she’d created.
                Looking up, Rita blinked several times, uncertain what to do.  Morrigan still sat across from her.  Death was patient, or so it seemed.
                “I can give you peace.”
                “I’m not certain I’m ready for that.”
                “Not death, my dear, though I could make that an option if you wished.  I have another option; a plan if you’re willing.”
                “Will it give me peace from this torment?”
                “It will.”
                “Then I am willing.”
                Morrigan crossed the aisle and wrapped her arms around Rita.  A bright light filled the bus.  When it dimmed, Rita was gone.  In her place was an iridescent black raven.
                “Go, my child.  Be at peace.  I will find you when I have need of you.”

                The raven flew away.  The bus continued down the road unharmed.

Saturday, March 5, 2016

Studio 30 Plus: Layers of Mystery

Studio 30 Plus gave us provenance and/or origin this week.  I went back to my Weather Riders serial for this.  Here are the previous parts of the story.  As always, please let me know what you think and be sure to stop by Studio 30 Plus to see other great writers answer the prompt.


                Even after I woke up in the back of that sedan, it took me a while to figure out what had happened.
                I’d answered my door.  That jerk of a stranger did something.  I’m not sure what.  All I remember is he made some weird gestures, only for a second or two and it was like I went on vacation from my body.  He took my hand and had just walked me out.
                “I see you have regained consciousness.”
                I tried to sit up, but couldn’t, and I wasn’t sure why.
                “Your incapacitation is temporary.  In a few minutes, now that you are awake, it will pass.”
                “Who are you and what the hell are you doing with me?”
                “Ah, ah.  Do not use your power in this vehicle.  It would have deadly consequences for both of us.”
                I hesitated.  I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.  I took a breath and tried again.
                “Who are you?  Why did you kidnap me?”
                “The correct term is abduct.  I do not intend to force matrimony upon you.  You may call me Edward.”
                “Okay, Edward.  What are you intending to do with me?” I was starting to be able to move, though I still felt weak.
                “I must beg your forgiveness for my actions, but I must secure your assistance and I could not risk you refusing me aid.”
                “With what?” I levered myself up to sit relatively straight.
                “That is a more complicated answer than time currently allows.  Suffice it to say, the origin of your question is well understood and the answer has much to do with your own history.”
                “So that gave you the right to kidnap,” I saw his body tense as he readied to correct me, “Abduct me?”
                I wish there had been an alternative, but time is precious and I had none to sacrifice convincing you of my need.”
                “Let me clue you, Edward.  This is not endearing you to me or convincing me to help you.”
                “Please.  Let us renegotiate once we arrive at our destination.”
                “We didn’t negotiate to begin with.  Where are we going?”
                “Believe me.  I am aware of this and I beg for your patience.  Please.  All will be made clear once we arrive and you will understand.”
                I tried the door.  Child locks.  It looked like I had no choice but to see where this ride took me.  Literally.



And - there's still a little time to write for the #DontPanicPicturePrompt this week!

Thursday, March 3, 2016

#TuesFlashFicTrain: Down to Business

Picking up where I left off in last week's #TuesFlashFicTrain, Rita and Laura are just beginning a business call.  Stop by Trials and Tribulations of Writing Fiction to see other possible scenes that continue the story from last week and to catch up on the previous parts of the story if you haven't seen them yet.


                “Smith Sisters.  This is Rita.”
                “Are you both there?”
                “Yes, Mr. Orange.  Rita and I are both here,” Laura rolled her eyes.
                “And you’re in a public place?”
                “As requested,” Laura was glad Rita answered, and in a much politer tone than Laura figured she could manage with this potential contract.
                “Send me the proof of your, ah, charms shall we say.”
                Laura rolled her eyes again, this time at his lame attempt at a double entendre that fell quite flat.  She sent him several files via her open laptop.  Laura could see Rita was still a little distracted, so she started to prepare herself for the public demonstration request she knew was coming.
                And, just like clockwork, it came.  Laura both loved and hated this song and dance.  It was a necessary evil in hers and Rita’s line of work, but it was old.  She usually let Rita be in charge of this part, but Rita clearly wasn’t up for it right now.  Rita usually loved it.
                “Well?” he prompted from the cell phone.
                Rita nodded, giving Laura tacit permission and acknowledging she was in no position to perform the demonstration.  Rita picked up the phone and switched it to Face Time.  Laura took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  Several moments of still silence passed.   Then, Rita could see a subtle shift come over Laura.  The power was clear when Laura opened her eyes.
                Laura sauntered over to a table near Rita.  Rita discreetly kept the phone’s camera focused on Laura.  A business man was sitting at the table Laura picked.  He seemed to be waiting for something, or someone.  Rita couldn’t help but smile a little when Laura caught his attention.  The man started to pant, almost literally.  Laura was so good at this, much better than Rita.  Then again, that may be because Laura was always in control.  No matter what.

                “You have a contract,” came from the phone.


There are a few days left to get your response for the Don't Panic Picture Prompt in!  March 6th at 11:59 pm CST is it!

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Master Class: Truths and Questions

Among the prompts Master Class offered us this week was "melancholy occasions".  After a bit of thought, this took me back to my White Wolves serial.  Here is a link to the first parts of the story.  As always, let me know what you think and be sure to check out other Master Class assignments through the button below.


                In moments, but felt like a funeral march of eons, Rhys was back.  There was no sign of the wolf.  Seeing the utter shock on Jen’s face, Rhys took her by the elbow and gently led her back to the bar.  He settled her in a seat and signaled the bartender, who set a Hurricane in front of her.
                Rhys hated these moments, when someone learned about his world.  They almost always turned into such melancholy occasions as he was berated, cursed, or even called a charlatan by the very people who had sought his help.  Rhys braced himself for her disdain as he saw the Hurricane working its magic on her.
                “How is this possible?”
                “What do you mean?” Rhys blinked several times.
                “Werewolves.  How is it they – you – are real?  And the world not know?”
                “That is a long story.”
                “All right, then.  That’ll wait for later.  What part does my ex play in all of this?”
                Rhys hesitated.  He’d told her earlier, but it must not have registered with her.
                “He really is a werewolf, too, isn’t he?”
                Rhys nodded.  Jen was throwing him off.  She wasn’t reacting how he’d thought she would.  Which was also unusual in his experience.  Both because people didn’t usually accept the truth about werewolves as easily as she seemed to be doing, and because he was rarely wrong about people.
                “So what does that mean for my son?”
                “I’m not certain, to be honest.”
                “Why?”
                Rhys took note of the dangerous glint in her eye, “A child from a union such as yours is incredibly rare in our world.  Most unions like yours bear no children.”
                “Are there other children like my son?”
                “I know of none,” Rhys continued before the storm he saw in her eyes could break, “I do know such children have existed before, but none others who now exist.  I have people researching this because I think it may have something to do with why your son was taken.”
                Jen broke down, “So it’s my fault that I got pregnant by my loser of an ex.”
                “No,” Jen’s head snapped up at the heat in his voice, “This is not your fault.  You have done everything you can to care for Cullen and have never given up your belief that he is alive.  A belief that has proven true.”
                Another thought occurred to Jen that shifted the subject away from the raw agony of the current one, “If werewolves are real, what other fairy tales are real?”


Master Class Featured Image


Don't forget - the Don't Panic Picture Prompt is up!  You have until Sunday March 6th.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Don't Panic Picture Prompt: February 29

Yeah.  I know.  I'm actually posting this the morning of March 3rd because I fell asleep with my three-year-old last night.  Anyways, same rules apply.  500 words.  Due by Sunday March 6th at 11:59 CST.  Have some connection to the picture, though it does not need to be obvious.  Here's your picture this week:


Sad angel with wings tattoo on back:

Photo from: http://tattooblend.com/43-heavenly-angel-tattoo-designs/
Not sure who actually took the picture as it is not credited on the site.