FFfAW Challenge 7-1-2017

She walked out of the hospital as dark mapped a rainbow-colored sky. Exhausted after a double shift. She thought about napping in the car before driving home, but knew she wouldn’t. She didn’t need the questions which would be asked.
Yawning, she slid into the driver’s seat, closing her eyes for a moment. Would he be home tonight?
Or was he out drinking…. other things.
The marriage was over. She knew that, but pretended she didn’t. She still loved him. Her first boyfriend. First love. First lover. Only husband.
There was a light on in the living room. When she stepped inside, he was standing in the hallway.
“I thought,” she said.
“I know.”
He looked down, back up at her. “Is it possible?”
“Possible? What?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes.”

Word Of The Day 6-13-2017


mor·tif·er·ous \(ˈ)mȯ(r)¦tif(ə)rəs\
Popularity: Bottom 20% of words


Bringing or producing death; deadly; fatal; destructive.


In very short time after, those two infected parts were growne mortiferous, and would disperse abroad indifferently, to all parts of the body; whereupon, such was the quality of the disease, to shew it selfe by blacke or blew spottes, which would appeare on the armes of many, others on their thighes, and every part else of the body: in some great and few, in others small and thicke.
The Decameron

They have many sacred implements or relics, which are for the most part carefully kept concealed from the eyes of all, but especially from the women, such as, pieces of rock crystal, said to have been extracted by them from individuals who were suffering under the withering influence of some hostile sorcerers; the pringurru, a sacred piece of bone (used sometimes for bleeding), etc. The latter, if burned to ashes in the fire, possesses mortiferous influence over enemies.
An account of the manners and customs of the Aborigines and the state of their relations with Europeans, by Edward John Eyre


Latin mortifer, mortiferus, from morti- (from mort-, mors death) + -fer, -ferus -fer, -ferous




The challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner will open early Wednesday morning, May 17th. Allow the prompt to take you anywhere you want to go! (Limit your stories to 200 words.)

This challenge is open until 11:00 pm Friday night, May 26th, 2017.



The bulldozer sat abandoned. He’d meant to arrive earlier, watch the end of shift, but want and reality often diverged. Not that it made any difference at this point.

Climbing into the cab, he thought about his family. He’d never known his father; had always thought that was why he’d grown up as he did. He’d needed something in which to believe.

Man had made a mess of his world. Everything green had been destroyed, leaving nothing but man-made concrete and steel in its place. Why didn’t they understand? They were killing the world, killing themselves. But then man wasn’t the smartest of species.

Now or never.

Unscrewing the gas can, he poured the liquid over the cab, soaking the seat, splashing the controls and floor.

Mankind just didn’t understand.

It was time to make them understand.

Sitting, he pulled out his matches and struck a spark.



Sunday Photo Fiction 4-30-2017

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.

Sunday Photo Fiction


He stared down at the keyboard, blinking away sweat and tears. Hands shaking. Sick, sinking, feel in his belly. Meal bitter on his tongue.

The fly was cleaning its wings, moving one to the other. Flaunting its power. Its contempt.

He read and re-read the ten words flashing on his screen. Ten words between life and death. Ten words until the end.

Nine. He shouldn’t have done it.

Eight. Shouldn’t have listened. Should never have listened.

Seven. Panic. Heat. In his hands. On his face.

Six. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear.

Five. Too late. Too late.

Four. Eyes. Begging. Blank. Blank. Blank.

Three. Deaf. Nobody told him he’d be deaf. Nobody told him.

Two. So much blood. Too much for one body. Hands and face and in his mouth.


The fly was gone.

Word Of The Day 4-6-2017


om·ni·cide \ˈämnə̇ˌsīd\
Popularity: Bottom 20% of words

 The total extinction of the human species as a result of human action. Most commonly it refers to human extinction through nuclear warfare, but it can also refer to such extinction through other means such as global anthropogenic ecological catastrophe and Lethargica.


If we realize that genocide and, what many experts are calling omnicide – eventual human extinction by human action – is taking place?

No More DU, No More Hiroshimas, No More Nagasakis

Ecocide, or perhaps biocide, or perhaps omnicide, would be an act exterminating not just all humans, but the entire circle of life on planet earth itself.
Tad Daley: Apollo or Extinction

We must act in our own self-defense “immediately, before humankind exterminates itself in an act of nuclear omnicide.”
Francis A. Boyle’s “Protesting Power – War, Resistance and Law”


The word ‘omnicide’ is a formed from ‘omni-‘ (‘all’) + ‘-cide’ (kill).



Daily Post One Word Prompt – Recognize 2-8-2017 (Gone, Pt 4)


Gone, Part 4

It hadn’t meant anything. She’d done her job. At least, they’d told her she had done a good job and making them happy was the fricking point of her entire existence. Or, so it felt. Regardless, she’d snared the bait and walked away. She done it so many time before, she could have been blindfolded.

Sometimes, she dreamed of an almost forgotten past; before the hurt and the pain, before the murder, before those men stepped in and saved her. Going from her family’s protection to protection by the government in what? An hour? More? It had been too confusing; all the screaming and gunfire, her father racked with bullets, his last gift falling dead over her body. Because she’d been under him, unable to move, the Cartel had assumed she was dead as well. She lay there until Conner found her.

She’s only been nine. How was she supposed to know one devil from another?

Different names, different hair colors, different lives. No where felt like home. She had nothing but the men who’d saved her, hidden her in the forgotten nooks and crannies of the world. And then, she found out what they wanted. They wanted her; they owned her. She’d never had a choice.

She lured men, and women, seduced them away from their families, from their lives, into a world in which they no longer existed. For all their families knew, they’d left for another woman or another man, never to be heard from again. The families would never find out different. They used the Bait until it died, or was so broken as to be useless.

Sometimes, she dreamed of the families left behind. Women’s faces. Men’s faces. Empty houses. Long dark nights and tears. Anger. Sometimes hate. Sometimes gunshots. Pills. Broken dreams. Broken lives.

For a long time, she’d believed they were right. Her life had been broken, destroyed, her parents, sibling, killed in front of her; a never-ending nightmare. What gave anybody the right to an unbroken life when she had nothing?

She’s come to realize, however, that no matter her broken life, she didn’t have the right to cause others the same pain. To abandon them to a fate more devastating than death.

The last one, he’d cried the night they took him away. Begged.

No right. No right whatsoever.

Clutching her bag, she strode towards Departure Gate B. They wouldn’t be looking for her yet, but as soon as they realized she’d fled, they would. She wanted as much distance and time between them as possible. She needed every minute to disappear.

“You coming, Miss?” asked the attendant as the last of the passengers were cleared for boarding.

Run. Run. As fast and as far as possible. So they won’t catch you.  You’ll be free.

She couldn’t. She didn’t. Instead, she turned back, exchanged her ticket, and while waiting, pulled out her phone. Texted a number not yet deleted from her memory.

Gone, Part 1

Gone, Part 2

Gone, Part 3