Response to JSW Prompt 1-29-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words(a suggestion, not a rule:). If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site.

Better late (really late) than never!



Waterfall studied with dogged determination,

Wary of water not in a bowl.

Warm fuzzy heart in a pink sweater.






Response to JSW Prompt 1-31-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words(a suggestion, not a rule:). If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site.


And they thought it’d really kill me. Twenty-three years. Bah. A heartbeat in my world. Should have cut off my head or put a spike through my heart. But wait… neither of those would have killed me either. As if I was a vampire.

Stupid humans and their stupid superstitions.

Wasn’t easy to crawl out. Soil gets packed down in 23 years, grass has time to dig in roots. Not to mention the coffin and the vault. Those were the easiest to bypass. Finally, shaking roots and dirt from my hair, I pushed through to the surface and rose, looking grandly around me.

The folks at the graveside service two graves over didn’t take to my appearance so grandly. Typically, they screamed and ran, flowers and dirt flying everywhere. The minister held ground for a moment longer, looking as if he wanted to be brave, save his flock from the demon.

As if. Nor was I a demon, but I guess one can’t expect humanity to know the different. But ghee, my skin isn’t even red! Don’t demons have red skin? Glowing eyes.? Horns? That sort of thing?

Anyway, I  waved as the minister ran, heels flying, then kicked up some heels of my own.

The sun was shining. Clouds drifted lazy. Green grass except around the dug grave.

A beautiful day to be alive!

Welcome back to the world, Loki! Welcome home!

Response to JSW Prompt 1-15-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words(a suggestion, not a rule:). If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site.


pix by csk2017

The fireplace sat cold and alone, nursing memories of warmth and life, the smell of meat and biscuits. Standing there was like coming home, looking at the collage of stone and mortar, tiny green of life struggling at its foot.

It had been a long time since he’d felt the struggle of life.

He never should have left. That was clear enough now, but hindsight was always better and hindsight wasn’t a gift for the young.

He remembered Mama sitting by the hearth, stirring stew made from his catch, slow and steady, darning forgotten in her lap.

No, not forgotten. Mama never forgot anything. She’d never forgotten him, even when he’d never come home again. Soldiers didn’t always go home. They both known that at the time and he knew it still.

Soldiers don’t always go home.

The home was long gone, his life, his world with it. Now, he lived in a world of cell phones and instant communications; 98″ TV’s, airplanes and 100 channels on Cable. Vaccines and penicillin.  Boy, penicillin would have been a help back then.

He might have gone home.

“Coming?” Jeffrey asked from behind, lounging in the diver’s seat of their rented Corvette.

“Yeah,” he replied, turning away from the past.  Slid into the passenger’s seat, closing the door behind him.

“Where to?”

“It’s been a long time since I was in the US,” he mused, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Let’s start at the top and just keep going.”

“Your wish,” Jeffery laughed, driving away from the ruins of the old plantation.

He’d never understood the draw of the past.  If he never saw his old home-place again, that would be fine with him. Daniel was of a different mold, one he didn’t often understand.

Daniel looked over at him, never once looking back. “Thank you for your indulgence, Jeffery. I know the past means little to you.”

Jeffrey replied with a shrug. “That’s true, but what matters to you matters to me.”

“Thank you for lying to make me feel better.”

“Part of the job description.”

Squirrel. That was what he’d shot and his Mama cooked. Squirrel stew.

Looking over at Jeffery, he realized he’d finally come home.

Friday Fictioneers 4-2-2017



He leaned on the railing, watching as the ship was unloaded. Aboard were things he needed, things which might get him killed. They would either find him or not; there was nothing else he could do.

“Have they found anything, sir?”

He glanced back. “Nothing yet.”

“Shall I?”

Van Helsing was out there somewhere. Waiting.

“Take the car and pick up the crate.”

“And you?”

“I’ll meet you at the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as the sound of the car faded, he moved. Van Helsing would never see him coming.

JSW Prompt 3-5-2017


Lucky for him, they couldn’t, though the gun in her hand was problematic.

“I should kill you right here.”

“I would never hurt you, Lisa.”

“Shut up, Stephen.” Her eyes were red, dark circles underneath. “I should have staked you when I had the chance.

“I was protecting you,” he pointed out unnecessarily, but women were women no matter what the century.

“Shut up. Just shut up!”

He raised his hands. He wanted things over, but forced himself to remain calm and slow. Sometimes, overwhelming force worked. Other times, not so much. He didn’t want to have to hurt her, too.

“You killed Bobby,” she said, voice raw. “Marty. Mary Jeana.”

Well, he hadn’t killed them all, but he knew better than to argue. She was just worn out enough to circle back around to staking and re-staking.

“Why,” she asked.

He was directly in front of her then, one hand closed around the gun, turning the barrel away from them both.

She smelled deliciously of the life he’d lost a thousand years ago. “Because,” he said softly, “You are my home.”