Thursday, November 28, 2013

Michela Walters Week 75: Thanksgiving Gratitude

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Michela Walters’s Picture Choice: Both

Title: Thanksgiving Gratitude

The heat wafted down between the buildings, providing them just enough warmth and sunlight to get a little vitamin D. It was late November and Stan and I were enjoying the unusual warm front by laying out in the lawn chairs we’d long put away.

“We going to put that bird in, or what?” Stan’s grumpy voice echoed beside me, the buildings eventually swallowing up the sound.

I leaned up on my arm, examining my husband of more than forty years wondering where the time had gone. We’d been deeply in love once, but years pass and now we’d drifted to being merely comfortable with one another, the passion fleeting along with our youth. It was Thanksgiving and instead of trekking to the mountains to visit our kids this year, we decided to stay in our highrise senior condo wanting to avoid the travel stress. This left my prickly husband grumbling about when I was going to have dinner ready.

Realizing I hadn’t responded, he opened one eye, asking, “Well?”

“Gee honey, when you ask so nicely, I can’t wait to get in the kitchen.” I knew I was dragging my heels getting dinner going, but I missed my family. Now that the holiday was actually here, I had a change of heart about dealing with the traffic to get out of the city. Instead of sunbathing on the rooftop deck, I wanted to be in the mountains at my daughter’s home, helping her make gravy and our family’s secret stuffing recipe.

A high pitched beeping signaled a new text on Stan’s phone, a very rare occurrence.

“Who’s texting you?” I asked, not even trying to hide the accusatory tone in my voice.

With a sly grin, Stan pulled up the back of the chair into a seated position and stood, putting his hand out to help me up. I couldn’t help but glance between his hand and his face, trying to figure out why he was looking so smug.

“Did you really think I was going to let you spend Thanksgiving alone? The kids are all up in the house, Kate’s even brought the turkey and all the fixings.”

My face must have been a mix of amazement and joy. Jumping to my feet I hugged Stan harder than I had in years. “How did you know?” Happy tears ran down my cheeks as we grabbed our chairs to head back inside.

“I miss them too, you know. We all got lucky with the weather being as nice as it was. Gave me a cover to keep you out of the kitchen until they could get things all set up.” He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss. “Besides, I knew the more I bugged you about getting the turkey in the oven, the longer you’d stubbornly resist my nagging.”

It was right then when I realized perhaps the sizzle was long gone from our relationship, but you couldn’t replicate how insync we were. Stan’s thoughtful gift to me was something I would always cherish. It also helped me recognize, on the day made for gratitude, how happy I was to be reminded that complacency had no business in my marriage.



Wishing all my American readers a happy and healthy Thanksgiving.
Michela

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Michela Walters is a wife, mother and book enthusiast. She is currently attempting her hand at writing her first romantic fiction novella. You can read her other stories on her blog: michelawalters.wordpress.com

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Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Sarah Aisling Week 75: Got a Secret . . . Can You Keep It? (Part Twenty-four)

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Sarah Aisling’s Picture Choice:

Title: Got a Secret . . . Can You Keep It? (Part Twenty-four)

The strobe of the ambulance lights bathed the immediate area crimson. Two EMTs fired questions regarding age, parental consent, method of injury, and allergies at Detective Hoffstra as they started a line on Ciel and strapped her onto a backboard.

Hoffstra called a hysterical Susan and handed the phone off to one of the medics who assured her Ciel was alive and informed her which hospital they were heading to.

Janice refused medical treatment, opting to sit in the back seat of Paul Jeffries' SUV after shooting a sullen look at the couple still huddled in the grass. Muffled cursing drifted out through the open window, and Hoffstra grimaced. He had a delicate situation to deal with without having to worry about a lovesick teen.

Ed paced back and forth alongside Melinda's car, gun now tucked in the back of his jeans. That fact didn't relieve Hoffstra's anxiety level any. Ed kept muttering about “backwoods cops” and how even the ambulance had beat them to the scene. He'd be really pissed when he found out Hoffstra had delayed making the call to the police on Mark Strohm's okay. Hoffstra didn't pretend to understand it; he was just following directions.

Ed caught sight of Hoffstra from the corner of his eye and stopped abruptly, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it that the cops aren't here yet, but what the fuck, man? Why is this nut-job given freedom to roam?”

Hoffstra stared Ed down, eyes narrowed. He didn't fully understand the situation, but he'd be damned if he'd be held accountable to a hack like Ed who was only here for the bounty. Eventually, Ed returned to his pacing and muttering, which suited Hoffstra just fine.

* * *

Paul and Melinda clung to one another in the dew-coated grass. The distant horizon was filled with the fire of the rising sun. Melinda closed her eyes against the dawn and burrowed her head against Paul's chest—her favorite place to be—and prayed the world would end in that moment.

They hadn't spoken much since Paul mentioned the waterfall, and then the ambulance had arrived to take Ciel to the hospital. Melinda deeply regretted her part in Ciel being terrorized and injured.

Paul's arms tightened around her. “Mindy, why?” The two words contained such grief.

“What?” Melinda whispered into his shirt.

“Why did you kidnap . . .” He struggled with the words.

“My niece?”

“Yes.”

“My niece that you bedded? My niece that's younger and more beautiful than me?”

Paul groaned. “Don't . . . please.”

“I have questions, too. Why did you sleep with my niece, a student at the school?” She pushed back on his chest until their eyes met.

“I didn't know who she was, if that makes a difference. I would never . . . if I knew.”

Melinda huffed a bitter laugh. “That makes it all perfect, then.”

“That's not what I'm saying. I just wanted you to know it wasn't intentional.”

“How did it happen? I mean, what are the chances of you picking my niece out of a school full of nubile young girls?”

Paul looked away, shame heating his face. “Something about her reminded me of you. Other parts reminded me of Ree—so carefree and confident.”

“Ree? You . . . knew my sister?”

Paul closed his eyes and nodded.

“You never told me.” Memories of the accident that stole Marietta's life and disfigured Melinda flashed through her mind. She instinctively cradled the ruined half of her face, hiding it. Her heart beat faster, the breath choking in her throat.

“I couldn't, Mindy. Not knowing the guilt you felt about that day.”

“How did you know her, Paul?” Melinda backed away, landing on her butt in the grass, and looked into the eyes of her husband, wondering if she knew him at all.

Tears shone in his eyes, and he held a hand out to her. “I never meant for you to know—for any of this to happen.”

“How?”

“She was mine . . . until I lost her to Mark.”

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Sarah Aisling hails from the East Coast of the US and loves living by the ocean with her incredibly indulgent husband and precocious daughter. She’s currently editing her upcoming novel, The Weight of Roses. When Sarah isn’t being enslaved by her characters, she can be found with her nose in a book, obsessing over nail polish or anything leopard, biking, hiking, camping, and spending time with friends and family. Twitter: @SarahAisling Facebook
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Tuesday, November 26, 2013

J M Blackman Week 75: Life is like a Speeding Train--The Rabbit Hole Part 10

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J.M. Blackman’s Picture Choice:

Title: Life is like a Speeding Train--The Rabbit Hole Part 10

You can imagine that for the hundredth time, I thought I was going to die. It's amazing how many scenarios the mind can create in a split second.

I thought perhaps they would obliterate me on the spot, ending my life in a flash of light and a plume of ash. I'd be lucky if I managed to catch Samir's eye in the middle of a death struggle, but I'd hope that somehow I could let him know before we died that I was sorry I wasn't more help, and I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere but that in that moment, in that place with him. It wasn't a love thing. It was an honor thing. He saved my life. And regardless of the circumstances: I was indebted to him. I would pay him back in full.

I would hope that in the event that we could make that eye contact, all of that would have been on my face, in my eyes.

I also thought that perhaps they wouldn't kill us immediately. Perhaps they would imprison us and torture us. Torture us with things I couldn't even imagine as time and time travel had allowed macabre heights of creativity.

I still would choose now.

In the moment, Sam spun toward me and grabbed me to his chest. The room exploded in every direction and then I was staring into a glaring canopy of white. So white it burned my eyes. And then the blinding light turned into a train that was hurtling toward me.

I made to dive out of the way, but was snatched back. I screamed as I crashed backwards. I was sure it was Samir holding me until I felt two more hands than was normal.

Then, I started screaming anew, kicking and punching anything and everything. There were two quick oomphs and then Samir yelling, “Aniyah, Aniyah!”

I flipped over onto my knees and stood on them, air heaving in and out of my throat so quickly that it burned. The train was still screaming past us. It was a miracle I had heard him at all. The air whipped around us, dragging our clothes and hair and creating tiny devils of dust.

When the train passed, Samir still stood with his hands up, blood running down into his eye, down his cheek. The collar of his shirt was torn down the middle and his lip was starting to swell. “You okay?”

“Are you?” I demanded. He nodded and starting searching the guard who had hitched a ride with us. We’d have to jump again soon to make sure they didn’t track this guy. You never really knew if the tech sent a signal before you had a chance to destroy it.

“We were close.” He said it like we had done a good job. “It might take practice.”

“Won’t they know we’re coming?”

“Someone is always coming. They can’t differentiate us from any other threat. Especially with our shield.”

I wiped my nose. I didn’t know when it had started bleeding. “Guess we better get moving.”

He dabbed at his forehead with his sleeve. “Yes. Soon.” I just appreciated that the snow was numbing my legs.

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J.M. Blackman is a Language Arts teacher and a feminist. She endeavors to review nearly everything she reads and is a happy wife. She's a SFF enthusiast, loves dark humor, and has an unhealthy need to protect the image of Batman.

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Monday, November 25, 2013

SJ Maylee Week 75: A Cold Cute Meet

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SJ Maylee’s’ Choice: Both

Title: A Cold Cute Meet

Jonathon wandered the streets. Up and down, he weaved a senseless pattern. He stopped at the top of the hill, turned around, and watched the movement below until it disappeared into the fog.

This time and place was just as monotonous as the last. There was nothing here to capture his interest, no sign of what he was truly looking for. The cars may look faster and the architecture was definitely getting more interesting, but it didn’t deter him.

The fates claimed he’d find her soon. They were determined to prove love wasn’t real, that it couldn’t last. His kind were just a piece in their little game.

Since that day they’d given him a glimpse of her, he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts. He wondered first what her voice would sound like and then he began to think about how soft her hair would be. Then, he worried she wouldn’t like him. Of course, if he believed the fates, it wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t love her anyway.

A piercing light split through his mind. Moments later, a chill traveled through him and snow kissed his cheeks. He turned in a circle, caring nothing for when and where, only hoping he’d find her in this place, but there was nothing. He continued to look, there had to be something in this freezing city.

Movement caught his attention and he turned back around. He lost his footing and slipped on the cold pavement, landing right on his ass.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up into the beautiful blue eyes that had been enchanting his dreams.

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SJ Maylee believes hearts are meant to come together and find love. As a writer she has a tendency to break hearts, but she always glues them back together. You can follow her at @SJMaylee,

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Sunday, November 24, 2013

Miranda Kate Week 74: The Bend

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Miranda Kate’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: The Bend

She saw it coming before they reached it; could see how it was going to unfold in her mind’s eye. She couldn’t stop it - she was powerless to, only being 8 years old.

Her mother had been drinking all afternoon, champagne mostly, but claimed it wasn’t strong enough to worry about; that she still had all her wits about her - even though she’d almost fallen down the steps of the lavish hotel as they’d left the charity function.

Her mother had laughed when she’d screamed ‘slow down’ at the first bend they had taken, but it wasn’t as sharp as this one. And before she could open her mouth to scream a second time, her mother had started cursing; the ‘sh’ sound of it merging with the screech of the tires as she tried to take the bend at high speed. The back end of the car slid and the tiny wall swung towards them, the boulder behind it rising up to meet them.

It had taken her full weight as she’d slammed against it, the paper-thin metal of the car door not much protection at that speed. If her mother and the rest of the car hadn’t been sliding towards her she might have had a chance, but instead every ounce of life was squeezed out of her moments before it began rolling down the mountainside.

Stephanie stood at the corner of the bend watching as the car tumbled to its final resting place, along with her body. She waited to see if her mother was going to join her, but she remained alone. Turning to the light behind her she was overwhelmed with sadness; 8 years was hard enough, but now she had to face eternity alone too.

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You can read more of my writing on my blog - Finding Clarity - at http://purplequeennl.blogspot.nl/ or join me on Twitter @PurpleQueenNL

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Saturday, November 23, 2013

Jenn Monty Week 74: Missing

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Jenn Monty’s Picture Choice: Both

Title: Missing

Music drifted through the concert hall with a fierceness Alan hadn’t anticipated. Lights flashed and smoke churned just like every other show but this audience was alive; a sweaty, writhing entity breathing in his music. The surreal view from center stage echoed in his ears when lyrics streamed back at him from the alien crowd. A thousand voices belted out his words causing Alan to grin like a cheshire cat. Being a rock star was such a wonderful life.

Alan’s heart pounded as the last song died away. Cheers from the crowd vibrated through his body and the rush bubbled up through his bones. It was the perfect night. Almost. Thoughts of Becky tugged at the back of his mind for a brief second before the adrenaline washed them away. The lights finally dimmed and Alan moved to the back of the stage. Another night, another city, another adoring crowd; Becky would have loved this show with its infectious vibe. Seriously, stop, he thought to himself. Becky had moved on and hundreds of girls out there tonight would gladly take her place. He thought about asking a few to come back to the tour bus. Instead, Alan grabbed his cell phone and slipped out the back door before his manager forced him to mingle with the fans.

He pulled his hood up and walked behind the building, looking for a secluded spot. He didn’t want a stray fan stumbling up, it would kill his nerve. He found a bridge with a train track running beneath and moved into the tunnel. What time would it be for her? He couldn’t remember what time zone he was in but it couldn’t be too late back home. Alan hit the speed dial; he still hadn’t removed her number.

“Hello, Alan.” Her voice sang through the phone. She obviously hadn’t removed his number either if she knew who was calling. Hope trickled into Alan’s heart.

“Hello, Becky. It’s not too late I hope?” he asked. God it was wonderful to hear the sound of his name on her lips.

“No, it’s just about dinner time here. Where are you tonight?” Alan’s shoulders slumped; she wasn’t following the tour then.

“Just finished the show in Bristol. I’m not too far from Temple Station,” he said.

“Öh. Was it a good crowd?”

“A great crowd. You would have loved it.”

“So you’re having a good tour then?”

“It would be better if you were waiting backstage each night.” Alan said the words before he could stop himself.

“Alan, we’ve been through this,” Becky began.

“I know,” Alan stopped her. “I just miss you.”

“OH MY GOD! There he is!” Alan cringed when he heard the shouting at the mouth of the tunnel. He knew Becky had heard it too.

“Go on then; your fans are waiting,” Becky said. Alan thought he heard disappointment in her voice.

“Becky, I…”

“No, just go. You can’t stay here with me and I’d rather be blind than see all those girls.”

Alan heard a click on the other end of the line. He snapped his phone shut, plastered on his best fake smile, and went to greet the girls who had ruined his night.

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Jenn Monty, also known as Brewed Bohemian, is a lover of Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Horror and anything with "Punk" in the name. She is an avid reader and writes flash fiction at www.BrewedBohemian.blogspot.com

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Friday, November 22, 2013

Samantha Redstreake Geary Week 74: Cerberus (Part 2 of Kore)

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Samantha Redstreake Geary’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: Cerberus (Part 2 of Kore)

“Kore has defied me for the last time!” Aides spits angrily.

Winter has seized the dying earth in its icy grasp, and yet, Kore has not returned. In over a millennia, she has never failed to take her place by his side in the underworld.

Now, he stands in a desolate parking lot in Nashville watching Kore escape through the glacial tempest with her lover. The irony of her fleeing past Athena’s temple only feeds the hungry beast of jealousy ripping its way through his core.

For thousands of years he has loved her, agonized over her, fought for her. He’s never found a way to win her love in return...her growing hatred has left no room for forgiveness.

Anger boiled to the surface of his skin, whispering of vengeance.

”Bring me Cerberus!” Aides orders his minion, “Kore’s consort should satisfy my hellhound’s appetite for live meat.”

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My world is populated with all manner of speculative fiction, novel excerpts and groundbreaking collaborations with artists and composers. Unlock your imagination and step into a realm of possibility at WriterlySam.

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