Daily Post One Word Prompt – Upredictable


The Neighbors, Part 4

There are those among us who live unpredictable lives. Nasty men. Vicious women. Forgotten children. You will never see them. They pretend normalcy; friends and neighbors and co-workers. Inside they are monsters.

Am I one? Some things are best discovered on your own.

He stood at the top of the stairs, neither up or down, in or out, waiting. He had no clue what he was waiting for, maybe for clarity, reality or maybe just for his brain to come back together into some sort of logical sense.

He’d never. Not once. His entire life. Been this. Indecisive.

What the hell was happening? Whatever it was, he wanted it stopped. Now.

He closed the door to the basement, backtracking his steps to the kitchen. Bare lines, empty counters, metallic shine of the appliances. This was his favorite room in the house. Spartan. Clean. Cold. Empty.

Like him. Like his life. Before.

He’ never understood the concept of before and after. How could something be right then and wrong now?

So what was he going to do?

A cup of tea. Everything went with a cup of tea. Even the feeling your life was falling apart.

The Neighbors Part 1

The Neighbors Part 2

The Neighbors Part 3


Quote For The Day 2-22-2016

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?”
Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of “A Course in Miracles”    

Daily Prompt 2-17-2016

Evasive Action

What’s the most significant secret you’ve ever kept? Did the truth ever come out?

He stood in the shadows, watching the building beyond, half-hoping nothing happened, other half hoping he might see the man he’d been tracing for so long. The night was dark and drizzly, water dripping from the rim of his hat, soaked his shoes.

He should have worn better shoes.

The building remained dark, a looming cliff-face in the thin glow cast by rusted streetlights. It was hard, knowing things, secret things he could not share. Sharing meant death or at least the loss of his job. He’d prefer the loss of the job but one never knew.

Why hadn’t he worn better shoes?

A light flicked on in a window on the first floor. He tensed, struggling to discern cause through the drawn shade. A shadow passed back and forth and then another two in quick succession. Three?

Shit shoes.

He considered moving closer, attempting to gain access to the building, but held back. Too dangerous when he didn’t know the identity of the third man. Woman?

His socks were soaked in his shit shoes.

Two forms materialized in front of the shade, shadow-boxing. A punch was thrown. Another. His hand went to his belt and the gun there.

What happened to waterproof shoes?

One form raised an arm, something clutched in one hand. Dark spots splattered onto the shade. Frick, he just hoped it wasn’t his man down.

Didn’t he have better shoes at home?

The first form collapsed. The third entered the screen, tackling form two. He’d labeled them one, two and three according to their appearance, not even sure which shadow was his man.

Tomorrow, he’d have to get better shoes.

The forms struggled back and forth. Hands wrapped around two’s neck. Two collapsed. There was a gun shot. Form three fell. No need to worry about that secret anymore. Kicking off soaked shoes in his car, he drove home.

Tomorrow, he would get rain boots.

Three shadow forms stood behind he shade, watching him go.


Invasive Action

JSW Prompt – Trust Betrayed


Stiff-backed, he stood, staring at the carved statue behind the alter, blinking as he ordered his thoughts. Finally, he turned; raised both eyebrows at the priest standing behind him and off to the side.

The man gulped. One was always careful to speak respectfully to the King, even if he was… well, a word the priest would not use. He knew, however, he could not brush this away like he might have done before. Damn the boy. What, by the All-Mighty, could have gotten into his head?

“I am sure, Sire,” he started, hands clasped behind his back. He must, he decided, speak sternly to the boy once they were done here, perhaps even instill the lesson further with a silver-birch branch to the hide. “He meant no disrespect.”

A frown. “God means no disrespect?” His eyebrows rose further. That look; skeptical with the dark rumbling of a storm deep inside. “I allow no disrespect. I was led to understand that God was of a higher calling?”

“Yes, of course, Sire…” he stumbled on, “I meant.. this must surely be a test of faith.” He kept his eyes cast downwards. Men had been killed for less.

“Test.” Flat.

“Yes. There have been many times when humans…”

“Yes, yes,” he scowled, waving a hand to silence the priest. How he hated priests, the arrogant assurance they, of all people, held the direct line to a god he’d long suspected did not exist. Until now there had been no way to discredit the church without people rising against him. Now, he had his own God to follow.

“Hummm,” he mused, tapping a finger against his bottom lip, “if it is, as you say, a test then all is well. If I was mistaken to trust him, however, I suppose then I have no need for his help. Or his church.” Or priests, left unsaid.

“Perhaps this is a test as you say. Perhaps not. I shall have to ponder these thoughts for some time.” Stepping outside, the King stopped on the steps, looking down at the Captain of his Guard.  The man bowed his head.

“It is done, Sire.”

“Good.” He strode down the steps, dusting the stench of the church off his hands.  Reaching his Captain, he paused, taking in the ring of guards surrounding the Church, a torch held aloft by each man.

Another man, dressed in common clothes, appeared round the side of the church. “It is done,” he said eagerly as he bowed. “I said just what you told me to say.”

“I told you nothing to say.”

The man frowned then bowed again. “Of course not, Sire. I was mistaken.”

“And the boy behind the statue?”

“He will never be found, Sire.”

“Good.”  The King looked around once more, satisfaction swelling in his chest. This was how one ruled a kingdom.

“Do it,” he ordered.

Behind him, soldiers moved to the church, thrusting torches into the dying bushes tucked around the base. Tinder-dry wood burst to flames.

He walked away, events of the morning already done and forgotten.