Response 12-25-2017 JSW Prompt 1-1-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words (But if not, that’s cool, too). If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site (sometimes I am slow, but I get there).

She stopped on the edge of the tree, staring warily into the cleaning, eyes immediately drawn to the brightly wrapped package under the single tree in the center. The tree was a Horse Chestnut, a sacred tree, but what could be in the box below? Had the gods left some present, some magical item, for her to discover.

No, not likely. In fact, hardly possible at all. None of the Gods she knew liked her near enough for gift-leaving. So what?

She could just pass on by and not look back, but she was too curious for her own good. She was going to look. She knew she was and darn the consequences. What was that book she been force to read in Grammar school? A Good Day to Die?

No. This was not a good day to die. It was so not a good day to die that she considered just moving on, but again, that wasn’t going to happen in her lifetime.

Which, she realized, might be growing shorter all the time.

Stepping into the clearing, she moved forward warily, eyes scanning the clearing and then the woods around. If she didn’t make it home tonight, would they miss her?

Of course they would, silly, but she discarded that thought. Much better to think she was alone in the world, making her own way in a violent time. How else to become a hero? For it was a hero she wanted to be more than anything else in the world.

To survive and over-come some terribly dangerous quest and return to those who had cast her out. Bravely willing to sacrifice her life for theirs regardless of their action. By this time in her narrative, she had reached the tree and thus the box.

It was, as she had observed before, wrapped in brightly colored paper covered with red and blue balloons and cupcakes. The cupcakes were vanilla and chocolate, however, not red and blue like the balloons.

And on the top lay a tag which said, ‘To Nay-na.”

Eagerly, she tore off the papers to find anther wrapped box, then another and another.

A puzzle to help her on her way.

At last, she reached the smallest box, about the size of a football. Ripping off the paper and tearing out the tissue-paper inside, she pulled out a….


A cheap, Halloween-store, tiara, sparkling with paste gems.

The clearing around echoed with the sounds of voices shouting, people pouring out of the forest and rushing towards her.

“Happy Birthday!” yelled her family and friends, swarming around with hugs and kisses. Her brother set the tiara onto her head

“You’ll need a few bobbies to hold it on, but this should do for the time.”

“Cake, cake,” everybody shouted as she, her friends and cousins and siblings raced towards the warmly lit house, smells of pizza and birthday cake permeating the air.

Perfect, she thought as she ran. The perfect ending for a perfect story!

Hero for the day!

Sunday Photo Fiction 6-1-2017

Each week a photo is used, donated by one of the participants of Sunday Photo Fiction, and the idea is to write a story with the photo as a prompt in around 200 words.

201 05 May 28th 2017

“What the frick-n-frack is that?”

“It’s Krakus, Lord of the Anggawho,” Donny replied.

“Ugliest thing this side of… well, forever.”

“Come on, Uncle B. It’s way cool!” Bouncing up and down, Donny started an unbreathable, unbreakable, chatter about the toy and it’s origin and….

B looked around. Caught the eye of a mother who frowned. The sales clerk who shrugged.

Yeah, lots of help ladies, thanks.

No way he was going to get this freaking-fracking ugly crap for his nephew’s birthday. For one, it was ugly as sin, and for two, his bro’s wife would kill him. Or, at least, give him that ‘I-knew-you-be-an-asshole’ look he’d been getting way too often lately.

“Hey, bud! I hear there is a two-foot tall, live-action, GI Joe at the front of the store.  Wanna go see?”

What? It was the first thing which came to mind.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!” Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

The toy shrugged and waited for the next little boy. He’d get dinner yet.



Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 2-24-2017

Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

1. A prompt photo will be provided each Tuesday to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.

2. Linking for this challenge begins on Tuesday and runs to the following Monday evening.

3. Please credit photo to photographer.

4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please stay within this limit.


This week’s photo prompt is provided by Sunayana with MoiPensieve.

The confusion of the city surrounded him; strobes of light, the roar of motorcycles, the rising endless sounds of a million voices talking at once. How had he come to be here? Why?

He knew, of course, but still it made no sense.  He’d never thought he would be afraid  of the city. No, not the city exactly, but what lived inside the city. The people, the sounds, the dark and light.

“You coming?” Jen shouted, leaning close for him to hear. “We’re almost there.”

Where, he wanted to asked, but she wouldn’t tell him. She drew him through the dark-light as if in a dream. He hated dreams. They reminded him only of failure.

“Do I really want to go?” he shouted, but she was focused ahead, didn’t hear.  And so he followed, afraid of becoming lost in the confusion.

Reaching a door, Jen pushed inside, pulling him into another kind of darkness. He heard the pound of his heart; fear howling in his belly.

Lights flashed on. Shapes appeared and there rose a shout. “Happy Birthday!”

He wanted to cry.

Daily Post One Word Prompt – Sacred – 12-4-2016


“Is nothing sacred anymore?” I asked. peeved.  I hadn’t meant to show my irritation, but I was much better at promising not to show my emotions than actually not showing them.

“It’s not like it’s a national secret or anything,” Jay replied, looking at me with the look which said he wasn’t interested in anything I had to say on that subject.


Not that I’d ever say that out loud. Jay was one of my best friends, and I didn’t really meant it. He had a point. Nothing was sacred anymore, not when one was a ‘celebrity.’ I should be used to the reality by now.  Not only was my public life the domain of the people but, apparently, my private life was also.

Sighing, I leaned back in the chair.

“I know you don’t want to go,” Jay continued, “but you don’t have much choice.”

I rolled my head to the side to look at him.  “How come nobody does shit like this for your birthday?”

Jay laughed. “I am not a Music God.”

“Phuff. I thought gods didn’t have to do anything they didn’t want.”  But I was smiling. I didn’t want to go to this very public birthday party, didn’t want to deal with the red carpet and the screaming fans and the push and shove of paparazzi. It was, however, part of the job and it was the part that didn’t give a shit if I’d just gotten divorced or not.

“Look at it this way,” Jay pointed out. “If you go out and about, it should dim the rumors over the divorce.”

Just last week, I’d finalized the divorce from my second wife. Another sacred down the drain. My first wife had turned into a jealous psycho and left me. Well, I guess she hadn’t really left since she still stalked me everywhere I went.

Bitch. And that I meant.

“Besides, how many groupies and starlets are going to attempt to crawl into your bed?”

I sat up.  “Dozens, I hope.”

We both rose, bumped fists.

“We got your back, man,” Jay said. “We all do.”

“I know.” And I did. The whole band had my back, had had it, did have it, and would have it.

“I’m going to get dressed,” I said, heading for the stairs up to my room.

“Don’t forget to wear your tux!”

“Bastard!” I shot over a shoulder and this time I did meant it, in a funny buddy kind of way.

Somethings were still sacred after all.




Sunday Photo Fiction – June 5th 2016

The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide.

To learn more, Click Here


The hills hunched green and lush, quiet in the greying sky. I hadn’t seen any indication of the enemy, but one didn’t live 500 years by being stupid. Nor impatient. One against 5,000 gave one patience. Or death, and I wasn’t particularly fond of that idea.

Something shifted near the covered mounds. The shift became a man, then a group, moving towards the smaller mound. I tensed, drawing up my bow and taking careful aim.

The gatherers formed a circle around the first man. Their voices carried to where I crouched.

“Why are we here? A hike is fine but this is a walkabout?”

I loosed the arrow. It flew straight and true, twacking into the target on the side of the ancient mound.

A piece of paper flew off the arrow and landed near the circled man’s feet. Slowly, he looked around, suspicion starting to frame his face. Bent to pick up the paper. The gathers’ hands were behind their backs.

Unfolding the paper, the he read – “Happy Birthday!” –  as his friends pulled out noise-makers and streamers.