Tag Archives: personal writing

Fiction Friday 2/10/17 Tale Weaver #106

Hello, and welcome to Fiction Friday where I share some of my writing. This week’s post is a response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver No. 106. This week they are asking for a tale to be woven where touch is important.


1,801 words, 6-8 Minute Read

Chapter 1

His lips left tiny burning trails against my shoulders and neck as he pressed his body against mine, his hands tugging at the towel wrapped around me. I closed my eyes and reveled in his touch. Why was he doing this to me? Time and time again I’d dreamt about him, yet only recently had the dreams turned increasingly sexual.

His arm cupped my butt and he picked me up, carrying me to the bed and laying me down gently, softly, as if I were something valuable and precious to him. He pulled the towel away and threw it to the floor. His lips made a trail down my body while his hands rubbed my thighs. There I lay, bare, naked, completely exposed for his eyes to see and hands to caress.

I rocked my hips back and forth as his lips kissed my inner thigh. As the moan escaped my lips I looked down; his eyes locked on mine, a predatory look in his eyes that caused my whole body to shiver. He smiled and slid up my body, nipping and sucking my flesh as he went. I pulled the sheets and moaned louder. His lips, his hands, his everything set me on fire.

My mind flashed to the first time he’d touched me.We had just been sitting across from each other in the grass, talking and laughing. I had fallen over from laughing so hard and had hurt my hand. He’d reached out, taken it in his and kissed it, igniting a small fire that was now fully stoked and out of control. I wanted to stop him and calm the fire, gain some control back.

But dammit, it just felt too fucking good.

Photo found on Pixabay

Continue reading Fiction Friday 2/10/17 Tale Weaver #106

Fiction Friday 2/3/17

Hello, and welcome to Fiction Friday where I share some of my writing. This week’s post is a response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Finish off Fridays #7: Shadow 03.02.17, where they provide the picture and the opening sentence and we write an additional 100-150 words to complete the story.

150 words, 1 Minute Read

Photo: (c) Lorraine 


Until she uploaded her day’s photos onto the computer, she never noticed the shadow in each of them.

“What the…” She trailed off, confused. Her photography expeditions she did alone for this particular reason. In each photo she saw the same shadow, behind her off to the side. She  flashed to a memory with her father who had been in a hit and run a few years back and had died in the hospital.

She remembers crying by his side, being angry and sad. Her crying had woken him up and he’d said, “Don’t cry baby girl, I’ll always be with you.”

She felt herself tearing up at the memory. She stood in front of a mirror, took a picture, and uploaded it to her computer. Lo and behold, there was the shadow standing a few feet behind her. Tears fell down her face as she laughed, cherishing the shadow.


2,549 Words

10-12 Minute Read

Hello and welcome to Fiction Friday, where I share some of my writing. This week’s post is a response to  Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #135 “December 26th, 2016” writing challenge. The words I used: Sound | Terminal |Rum Cull | Knife |Gutter | Fabric | Discolor | Gloss | Jackboot | Passal |Stroke | Impatience

This is a continuation of a previous Wordle post. Click this link to read the previous chapter. 

This week’s entry:

Cori felt nothing underneath her. She knew her eyes were open but still she could see nothing but blackness. She reached out her arms and legs and touched nothing. Continue reading FICTION FRIDAY 12/30/2016

Fiction Friday 11/18/2016

Hello and welcome to Fiction Friday, where I share some of my writing. This week’s post is a response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #129 “November 14th, 2016” writing challenged.  The words I used: Mute | Tidewater | Wisteria | Step | Bibliotaph | Guts | Breeze | Faceless | Sharp | Penetralia |

This week’s entry:

“Cori, look out the window,” her father said.

She looked up from her book and her eyes were met with a scene so picturesque. Their car followed a narrow winding path on a cliff. On the left was a treacherous mountain that looked like rocks could come tumbling down any moment. Cori marked her place in her book, Tidewater, and opened the window, sticking her head out. Her mother fussed at her to get back inside, but she ignored her and stuck her narrow figure further out.  Across from them was an identical pathway on a cliff but in the opposite direction, a dense lush forest bordering the opposing path. She wished they were driving on the other side, closer to the trees. Below each cliff  was a rushing river with large rocks jutting out. Cori squinted her eyes and off in the distance she swore she saw someone in a canoe or a kayak, battling the water with a neon paddle.  Continue reading Fiction Friday 11/18/2016

Moonrise Ch 3

Hello and welcome to Fiction Friday where I share some of my writing. If you missed the last chapter, check it out here.

Here is this Friday’s:


Ch 3

The Shift Runners moved through the other people in the room so they could be closest to the Valdoobal. Three individuals led the way: Domenic, Haywood, and Ezekiel, friends of the girl who was taken.They spread out across the front so they could each analyze and dissect the ancient beings.

Domenic, werewolf of the three, stood front and center at a pleasant 6’3″. As much as he was outside his skin was still a little pale with light hair and thusly considered the defect of his litter, nevermind the fact that he was one of their best fighters and situational analysts.

As if he were steam passing through a grate, Ezekiel maneuvered his lean frame to the right, scanning the bunch as he passed. He kept his eyes low for many glanced his way, trailing his path, drawn to him. For a witch he was well built, a cross between a cyclist and a swimmer with dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and a smirk that could turn metal to liquid. He got settled in position and wondered where Haywood was.

Continue reading Moonrise Ch 3

Stone & Metal Ch 2

Hello and welcome to Fiction Friday! Here is last Friday’s better late than never second chapter of Stone & Metal:


Ch 2

Shortly after her arrival, chaos ensued. The youngest of nine; the most dismissed and forgotten, and yet somehow the one anyone would go to war over. There was so much commotion, so much bustle, because it was not just her family in their large home, but her mother’s brother’s family and her father’s sister’s family.

Everyone got in the way trying to hear or see what was going on. Luckily Arion was carrying her, who was the tallest in the family standing at damn near eight feet. People naturally always gave him so much space, so when he started walking through they parted. Continue reading Stone & Metal Ch 2

Moonrise Ch 2

Hello and welcome to Fiction Friday. Every Friday I will post some of my writing. If you missed the last chapter, check it out here.

Here is this Friday’s:

Ch 2

Her arms and legs glided through the water, as if her and it were one. Her fingertips touched the wall and she flipped, turning and heading in the opposite direction. The familiar ache of her lungs relaxed her, allowing her mind to be empty as her body worked. Her head turned for air as her arms circled above her head, ready to butterfly down the lane. It was her favorite stroke because it allowed her to swim like a mermaid, like she belonged in the water, was born to be in it.

After a couple more laps she decided to head to shore. It was about midday, few clouds in the sky, a tender breeze caressing the water. She heard what sounded like a fog horn and looked around, confused. This was a lake.

She chalked it up to being tired and swam a little faster towards shore. She heard the sound again and spun completely around, nothing in sight. Hmm, she wondered just what that noise was. She peered around the lake but saw no source of the sound.

Unexpectedly a wave came at her, and then another, higher and higher. Her limbs flailed, trying to stay above water, but she couldn’t. Quickly the wave overtook her and she went under. Her muscles cramped up as she fought to get to the surface. Anxiety and panic pumped blood through her veins as she kicked, her legs throbbing. It seemed like her fingertips almost touched the surface, but it was more like caressing the underside. Something yanked on her ankle, once, twice quickly before she could even react, and then it started to drag her down. Continue reading Moonrise Ch 2

Newspaper Gone Missing

I sat on the porch, legs crossed with my foot bouncing, and waited. The hot mug of tea in my hands warmed me, soothed me, and calmed me. For the past month the newspaper hadn’t appeared on my doorstep. Every possible person I tried to address the issue with said that it was being delivered. I even talked to the delivery girl who swore up and down she delivered it, walked and set it right up on the front porch. Which of course did not come with the newspaper delivery service. I paid her a little extra to leave it right at the front door, safely away from the elements and ever closer to my hands.

One roommate claims that it just gets misplaced, while the other says tiny fairies keep stealing it because I stopped gardening. Superstition? Nonsense. I might be able to chalk it up to being misplaced  if it had appeared a couple of times in the month! But never that a tiny fairy stole it.

Our house is a bright green monstrosity that sits on a corner lot, impossible to miss! It has tall, beautiful trees that line each side of the street. With being a corner lot, the trees from each street frame the house.We have colorful bushes that line the walkway, giving the house a refreshing spring look. Some have called us fearless for the exterior appearance, bold. It is a reflection of who we are and how we feel.

I could hear a bike coming from very faraway. It was still fairly dark, and the way the house was situated on the lot it didn’t give us the luxury of  the  long view down the street.  So I sipped from my mug, listened, and patiently waited.

Latrice came in to view. She was riding a striped black and dark gray bike that she had spray painted herself and called, “Evasive Action.” Helmet on, hair in a bun, delivery uniform/outfit on, a bag of newspapers sitting in the basket fixed at the handlebars.

From the main sidewalk branches a slightly narrower sidewalk that snakes its way right up to the front porch, then down around the other side leading to the other street. Latrice threw newspapers to the last couple of houses. She saw me, smiled, and used that narrow sidewalk to peddle up to the front porch. She dismounted her bike, flicked her kickstand, and pulled out her earbuds, some rock music leaking out.

“Good morning, Green,” she said to me, smiling.

“Good morning Latrice,” I returned with a smile.

She reached in to her bag, retrieved the newspaper, and put it in my hand. I slid her a $10, she put her earphones in, hopped back on her bike and sped down the sidewalk around the corner.

I pulled the newspaper from its protective plastic sleeve, put it to my nose, and it inhaled. Mhmm, paper. In an age where technology is so abundant something so simple as reading the newspaper is a comfort, a salve on a wound from the persistent blade of the machine.

“I was born in the wrong decade,” I mumbled against the paper. I brought it and my mug into the house. I planned to devour its contents while I devoured the rest of this delicious orange African tea. I set the paper and mug on the counter and wander over to the stove to boil more water.

I see a sudden flash out of the corner of my eye. Startled, I jump, knocking the pot and all of the water in it on to me and the floor.

The newspaper is gone.

“Are you kidding me?” I incredulously say. I march around the kitchen and the counter, retrace my footsteps all the way back to the porch and still there is no newspaper in sight.

I walk back to the kitchen, wet and defeated, when I spot something on the counter, something green. I walk over to see: it’s a leaf. My eyebrow arches. A leaf? I spot another leaf, farther down the counter. I discover a trail of tiny leaves, leading from the counter. I follow the trail, from the kitchen, through the pantry, down the path to the greenhouse.

A small, rectangular greenhouse sat on a portion of the back-lot. From lack of use and upkeep vines had grown over the door and some of the windows, dust and grime coated the structure. I walked forward, enticed by the secret the trail of leaves held at the end. I broke the vines over the door and had to use my shoulder to get it open.

I barely made it through the front door. What lay before my eyes stopped me in my tracks: all of the newspapers from the past month lay in neat piles and rows on a dusty, old table. Shocked, I walked forward and picked up a paper, the date proving its authenticity.

“How in the hell?”

“How in the hell is right!” A tiny voice said. I spun around to find figure a little smaller than a bottle of water leaping to the top of the stack of papers. It appeared to be a girl, wearing dark leggings with a cute bright top, her feet bare, hair loose. She was almost as tall as a bottle of water. My jaw dropped. Drawing a blank, I just stood there and stared.

I put my hand on my forehead. “Am I really that high?” I wondered aloud.

“You wish,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. “But when did you decide to indulge so heavily in the Eighth Sin?”

I screwed my face up. “The Eighth Sin? What-?”

“Yes!” She yelled, cutting me off. “The Eighth Sin, after the first seven, Pride, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, Lust, Sloth, and Greed. The sin of laziness!”

I burst out into laughter. I was laughing so hard I had to reach out and catch myself on the table. I  must have made a misstep because I had to shuffle my feet forward and bend my knees as to not fall on my face. When I stood up, she stood there with her arms crossed, smirking. I looked down on the floor and saw two light patches.

Somehow, this little bottle-sized hallucination moved the table away from me. She  jumped in to the air and flew towards me. I stumbled backwards, out of my mind scared.

“Listen to me, Green, and listen good because this is the only warning we’ll give,” she said darkly. Before my mind could wonder about the ‘we’ she was referring to, tiny figures appeared behind her. My eyes could barely focus on the dozens of bottle-sized people that seemed like a small army.

“As green as this house is as green as this greenhouse should be, with plants and organic food. Don’t be lazy and refresh yourself . This greenhouse is a place of life, and your laziness and busy lifestyle has led it to death. Bottom line is: grow in this greenhouse that we enjoy or we will  keep stealing what you enjoy: newspapers.”

A cloud swiftly appeared, clouding my vision. As soon as it appeared, it started to dissipate and the bottle-sized army was gone.

The base of my throat throbbed from my heartbeat beating so hard. I sat there, trying to keep my heart from beating out of my chest and to process what just went down.

After many moments, I wondered aloud, “Fairies?” My voice bounced through the greenhouse. I don’t know how long I sat there, but what broke me out of my trance was my roommates voices.

Especially the one who said something about fairies. Madly, I grabbed two of the newspapers closest to me and headed inside.

Superstition it had turned out to be indeed.