Apr 28, 2013

Reality of Real Estate - all audiences - Friday Fiction Challenge

I know I'm late, but I have a perfectly valid excuse this time.

It's my birthday today and since my son is visiting his old man (i.e. my ex) my mom decided to have my birthday party on Friday, so I didn't get to write.

As for this week's prompt, I was really not inspired as I know nothing about it: "Real Estate".
I slapped something together anyways and I hope you'll enjoy the read .... there's even a bit of a twist to it.

Have fun!!

Reality of real estate.

“Honey, I’m home!” she called from the door.

I looked up from my crossword puzzle and smiled a gentle smile at her boisterous appearance.
She was all energy, all joy and all mine.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I called back, waiting for her to join me at the table.
She did, leaning down to give me a kiss on the forehead as she always did.

“I have really good news.” she said, taking her seat and taking my hand.


“I found the perfect job for you.”

“Really?” I asked, a little baffled, “I wasn’t even aware I was looking for one.”
I hadn’t been.
Not since the accident.

“Well, maybe you weren’t looking for one, but I found one anyways.”

“Do I need one?” I asked, suddenly worried we might not be coping as well as I figured we were.

“Not really, but wouldn’t you rather be doing something instead of sitting around the house all day, doing these puzzles?”

“Not really.” I replied, mimicking her.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a lazy butt.” she said, a little accusingly.

“I’m not a lazy butt, I keep myself occupied in an intellectual way.”

“Yeah, right.” she chuckled, “And how long are you going to last, occupying yourself in an intellectual way?”

“As long as I’m stuck in this wheelchair.” I replied, feeling that instant gnawing inside as I thought back to what put me in it.

“That might be an awful long time, honey.” she replied, understanding my mood as quickly as it appeared.
She knew me all too well.
“I think you should keep busy in other ways. And you should definitely get out again.”

“I am getting out. I walk the dog twice every day.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know it wasn’t, but I see people when I go out, I’m not completely cut off. And I have you, my own private little sunshine.”

“Aren’t you curious?” she asked, steering away from where compliments the likes of those usually took us.

“No,” I sighed, “but tell me anyway.”

“Real estate.”


“Real estate.” she repeated.

“Sweetheart, I know nothing about real estate.”

“Maybe not, but you could still call yourself an agent.” she replied, teasing.

“I prefer the sound of it when it’s preceded by the word ‘Federal’, not ‘Real Estate’.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I used to be much worse than that.”

“Well, look at it this way. All that experience should give you a clear advantage when trying to convince a buyer.”

I chuckled at her simplistic explanation and she leaned close for another kiss, a proper one this time.
Long and lingering, it threw my head in a spin and I felt my skin tingle in anticipation.
Wheelchair or not, I could still make my girl happy.

“I like the sound of it,” she whispered, “Jack Bauer, Real Estate Agent.”

I smiled against her lips, forgetting the horrible crash that had caused me to lose the use of my legs.
No more guns and terrorists for me, clipboards and notaries would do.

More entries can be found here

Apr 23, 2013

Sun, sea and salty tears - all audiences

Heya guys and gals.

Here's the second of my "just for fun" and completely "out of time" stories based on the Writer's Weekly 24-hour contest prompt, kindly provided by Susie.

I am wishing I had known about this contest sooner, because these prompts are absolutely awesome.
Remember, the story doesn't have to copy/use/mention the entire prompt, it just has to be obvious the story was written based on that prompt.

I hope you'll enjoy the read.


With blistered, salty skin and matted hair, they were down to their last sips of fresh water. A recreational day at sea had turned into a fight for continued existence. Slumped on the bow, searching for any hint of a breeze to sooth her burning face, her eyes widened when she noticed something fast approaching in the distance...

WORD COUNT: Stories for today's topic must not exceed 875
words. (Your story's title is *not* included in the word

Sun, sea and salty tears.

A lovely day announced itself on a warm breeze and the soft rustle of spring leaves. The smell of summer was in the air and she opened the bay window to let it into her house and into her soul. Finally winter had left. Finally summer was on the way. Today had been announced to be the warmest day of the week and she got an early start. Preparing sandwiches and a few bottles of water, she hummed along with the tune playing on the radio. She couldn’t remember the name of the band, but it was a catchy tune and she really liked it.
Twenty minutes later, a rebellious hairdo walked into the kitchen, the young teenager below it much less awake than she had been when she opened her eyes.

“Hey, brighten up, summer is coming.” she said cheerfully, hoping to coax him out of the lingering sleep.

“Hey, mom.” he replied flatly, “How come you’re up so early?”

“Your uncle called, we’re going on a boating trip. Everything is ready. Well, everything except you.”
She gave him a meaningful look.
“Eat your breakfast, we’re going in 20 minutes.”

“Do I have to come?”

“Yes, Adam, you have to come.”

With a sigh, he dropped onto the kitchen stool and poured some cereal into the bowl his mother had prepared. Moments later, he was munching on the crunchy hoops, trying to come up with an excuse not to go on that boating trip. It would have to be a good one, his mom wouldn’t let him get off the hook with a lame excuse.
Problem was, he didn’t have one. And he was too tired to come up with one. With another sigh, he got up and put his empty bowl in the sink. Leaning over, he gave his mother a wet kiss on the cheek.

“Morning, mom.”

It put a smile on her face and she ruffled through his rebellious hair.
“You need a haircut.”

“I know.” he replied, running his right hand through it as well.

Ten minutes later, he was ready, a bag with his swimming trunk, diving gear and a small towel thrown over his shoulder.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She gave him another smile, picked up the cooling box and waved her hand towards the front door.
It meant she was.


How long had it been?
She couldn’t remember.
The sun was ablaze high above their heads, the skies a stark blue, cloudless stretch. There wasn’t a hint of a breeze to soothe her burned face.
They were down to their last sips of fresh water. Thankfully, her brother still had some clarity of mind and they were keeping the bottles on a rope under the boat. It was the only way to keep it something resembling cool. She couldn’t think straight. Not after what had happened this morning.
Desperate to find help, Adam had taken it upon himself to swim to shore. She hadn’t been awake yet and her brother hadn’t been able to summon the strength to stop him.
She was devastated, desperate for a sign and mad as hell at both her brother and her son.
Why did the men in her family have to be so damned stubborn?

It was that same stubbornness that had gotten them in this predicament.
It had started out so well. A quiet day with her brother and her son, the 2 men who meant most to her, much more than her estranged husband. It was supposed to be a relaxing day. It had been, until disaster had struck and their engine had failed. For hours, her brother had tried to get it to work again. Hours during which they had drifted, further and further away.
Now, they were close to exhaustion with no hope of a rescue.
Her thoughts were of Adam. Of the horrors of drowning, exhausted after long hours of fighting against the same currents that had carried them out to sea.
A single tear formed in her eye, she had no more moisture left.
She couldn’t cry any more than this over her loss and she had no tears left to cry over her own misfortune.

Squinting against the glare of the sun, she strained to focus her vision.
Something was at the horizon and it appeared to be coming in their direction.
Her eyes widened in surprise as it drew nearer.
It took only minutes to arrive, the waves causing their boat to dance on the water.

“You look like you could use some help.”
The booming voice was warm and comforting.

“Yes,” she croaked, “our engine died.”

“Here.” he handed her a bottle, “Drink.”

The milky white liquid soothed her throat and gave her instant energy. Enough to find her brother and give him some as well.

Meanwhile, a rope was attached to their bow and she felt the sudden shock as the boat started to move, towed by the other vessel.

“My son.” she said, a quiver in her voice.

“Is safe.”

The sigh of relief made her weary body shudder.

“Thank you.” she said in a half whisper, “Thank you so much, Neptune, for saving my family.”

Apr 20, 2013

Instincts - all audiences

Hello friends.

This post is based on one of the prompts given by Writer's Weekly for one of their previous 24-hour writing contests. I saw the link to that posted on my Facebook wall the other day and decided to join in. The friend who posted it is going to share the prompts for the other contests she participated in, and I'll see if I can come up with something that could've been submitted.

This is the first one.
I hope you'll enjoy the read.

Blue ice stretched to the horizon, fading into the blinding rays of another waning winter sun. She shivered violently as the shifting mass groaned under her feet. She instinctively glanced down, looking for cracks under the transparent sheen. Suddenly, she tensed and dropped to her knees. Desperately clawing at the ice, she screamed...

Word count: Stories for today's topic must not exceed 850 words.


Blue ice stretched to the horizon, fading into the blinding rays of another waning winter sun. She shivered violently as the shifting mass groaned under her feet. She instinctively glanced down, looking for cracks under the transparent sheen. Suddenly, she tensed and dropped to her knees. Desperately clawing at the ice, she screamed.

Her voice carried over the white plains, unstopped and unhindered by nature's obstacles. It was a heartbreaking, heart wrenching scream, cutting through bone and marrow. Well, it would if it encountered those on its path, but it didn't. There was no echo, nothing to bounce the sound of her voice back at her. There was nothing. No one. No one who could help her. No one who could save her. If the ice beneath her feet broke, she would fall to her doom in the icy waters below, a certain and near-sudden death awaiting her. A horrible death too, or so she had been told by the elders.
If only the elders could be there now. If only they were with her, to help and guide, to protect and comfort. But they were nowhere to be seen. She was very much left to her own device and that scared her more than what she saw before her eyes. No one would help, for no one was near.

The ice suddenly cracked, making her jump and scream in surprise, the sound of her voice now completely different. Her surprise turned to anguish as the crack shot outward, zigzagging away from its point of origin. She jumped back, away from the danger, away from the looming threat of an unwanted swim. She realized with a pang she herself had caused the crack in her fear and surprise, clawing at the shiny surface the way she had. She stepped back even more, slowly now, carefully. Hopefully, the ice would hold.
Her feet slipped somewhat and she looked down, finding the ice wet beneath her feet. In shock, she raised her eyes and scanned the area immediately around her. More cracks were appearing, the jagged lines crisscrossing in a diabolical pattern. She jumped a first, trying to stay light on her feet. Then, she jumped another. This time, she slipped and nearly fell. An almost unnatural reflex kept her from going flat on her belly on the slippery ice and she steadied herself before moving on. The ice kept moaning as she moved on, complaining about the weight it had to carry, disapproving of her constant movements.

She had to get away from the edge as fast as she could, find thicker ice and more stable ground under her feet, preferably with a thick layer of snow. It would absorb the energy, hers as well as the ice’s and she wouldn't see the cracks any longer. It was never smart to tread blindly, but she preferred to be blind rather than scared. The cracked ice frightened her, so she preferred not to know it was there. Even if the ice gave way, she wouldn't see it coming. She wouldn't have time to anticipate and her fear would have no chance to paralyze her. And so she moved on as quickly as she could and dared on the slippery, treacherous surface, jumping more cracks to avoid stepping on them. Thankfully, her feet were light and her progression swift, leaving no opportunity for the breaking ice to swallow her whole.
She did not want to die frozen.

Her foot sank away in the soft snow and she breathed a sigh of relief, then quickly joined her other. The snow gave her a feeling of safety, of serenity. Of security. She ran more quickly now, the snow a welcome cushion beneath her feet, hiding the dangers and allowing for much better grip. Her feet were still light, kicking up puffs of snow as she ran, feeling the cushion thicken and the safety grow. When she reached the top of a small incline, she knew she was safe.
Looking back, she saw large chunks of ice drifting away on the waves, driven by the currents.
She shivered again, thinking she could have been trapped on one of them had she not taken to a run so quickly.
One last look at the treacherous ice below, then she turned her nose to the wind and started down the other side, taking to a trot to cover the rest of the distance separating her from the camp.

She was greeted with enthusiasm, as always.
They were always happy to see her return.
She stopped, surrounded by those she loved most, and looked around the group, seeing admiration and concern in their eyes. She smiled and shook the snow off, then she threw her head back and howled at the moon, her cry echoed by every single member of her group.

Apr 18, 2013

The Motivator - Friday Flash Fiction - all audiences

Yes, I'm early. Not by much though, it will be Friday here in 85 minutes.

This week's prompt over at +Krisann Gentry 's blog is as simply as it is complex: write a short essay from the starting point "an inspirational speech in under 50 words".
That can go anywhere.
It did!

Enjoy the read :o)

The motivator.

That’s a nice title.
If I were to make new business cards, I might add it, but then again, why do I need business cards. I don’t need them for my job and I don’t go out a lot, so I certainly don’t need them to hand out to all my new ‘friends’. Why would I need to have them?
Or should I make them for fun?
As a way to get a chuckle or a smile out of people when they check them?
I could.

But that’s not what I wanted to write about.
No, it’s the ‘motivator’ thing I need to write about. Well … need … it’s a big word. Then again, I do need to write. I need to keep busy and help myself move forward. I need to expand my horizon, break out of the box I have been locked up in for such a long time now. I need to find other things to write about. Other than the eternal Jack Bauer.
I love to write about him, though. He’s so flexible, yet so rigid. So outlandishly awesome, yet so humanly flawed.
It’s a character I love to work with, because I can do anything to – or with – him.
It’s Jack Bauer’s ‘fault’ I’m here tonight, working on this piece. It’s so totally Jack Bauer’s ‘fault’ I started writing in English and it’s even more Jack Bauer’s ‘fault’ that I keep getting better at what I do. It’s also Jack Bauer’s ‘fault’ I met some of the most awesome people ever, because without him, I wouldn’t have visited the sites that I did. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have connected with these people; I would never have met them and I would certainly never have had the chance to meet them.
Four words come to mind (and I actually have a badge that says that): Jack Bauer is God.
He sure is my God (as in “oh my god, he’s awesome” LOL).

But enough!
That’s not what I wanted to write about.
I wanted to write about this week’s prompt.
About ‘an inspirational speech in under 50 words’.
That’s what made me think I should add ‘Motivator’ as a title on those business cards (I won’t make).
As a mother, that’s what you are - must be - end up being - never thought you could be.
It’s something that comes naturally (I think) when faced with your own personal mini-me(s). That something that makes you say the right things at the right times to make all the stress, strain, anxiety and/or fear go away. That what will encourage the mini-me to go for it, to give it his best shot, to take that leap or jump off that rock. That something that makes the difference between wanting to do it and actually doing it.

But what is it?
What is it, that gives mommies (only speaking for myself here) the ability to take a child’s hand and help it fly? Is it superhuman strength? Is it an invisible umbilical cord that connects us and feeds my courage straight to my mini-me? Is it an echo of words once heard oneself and merely repeated to the next generation? Is it a never ending gift, passed on along with our other skills and talents, straight down the family tree?
What is it, that gives us the ability to talk sense into young rebels? To give them focus when their heads are in disarray? To give them courage when their heart has sunk into their heels? What is it, that lets us say what needs to be said? Do what needs to be done?

Maybe Jack Bauer isn’t the only god around here.
Maybe I’m a goddess myself.
A goddess and a motivator, inevitably able to sway the most discouraged, fearful, young one into giving it his all.
How’s that for a motivational poster!
If that doesn’t inspire you … let me see if I can find something else.

Here are a few words of wisdom:

·         Never give up on your dreams, they are what keeps you alive on the inside
·         What doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger (and I am living, breathing, writing proof of that)
·         Always expect the unexpected, you will never be caught off guard
·         Tomorrow is only a day away
·         The grass isn’t always greener on the other side of the street
·         When at first you don’t succeed, try again
·         On your next birthday, remember you are only one day older than the day before

Enjoy your life, you only get one shot at it.
Make it worth your while.

More entries can be found at Now Hark This!
Feel free to join in if you'd like.
The more the merrier!!!

Apr 14, 2013

Sunday - Just a blog post.

That's what it is today.
And it's a sunny day, too.
It was long overdue!
Finally, the sun is coming out to play again.

I went shopping this morning, coz I couldn't be bothered with it yesterday, but that meant I had to get going early. There's only one supermarket in the area that's open on Sundays and only till 1 pm. I had an excuse to get up early today, as early as ... oh, about 8.30 or so (yes, that's early!!) because it's my ex-husband's "weekend", so he would be knocking on my door around 9. He wasn't though, he sent a text message to the kid, letting him know he would be on the 9.30 bus, so we had some time to spare. It meant waking up at a more leisurely pace instead of jumping out of bed the moment he knocks (that would be me, the kid's usually up around 8). I usually go back to bed once they're gone, but since I had some shopping to do (groceries, coz school starts again tomorrow), I didn't go back to bed (booo-hoooo). Instead I turned on my computer and checked a few of "my sites".

This one in the first place.

It's nice to see the number of viewers/readers grow steadily. It makes me happy to know people are coming to *my* page to see what I've been up to. I hope you're enjoying the stay ;o)
I also checked Facebook, played the only game I'm still playing regularly (just don't have the time for all that begging and building and begging and building and .... you get the picture, right?) and checked my messages. Only one, but it was one I had been hoping for, waiting for. It made me extra happy. I replied, turned my computer off again and set out to get my shopping done.
All in all, it didn't take me long to get there, shop, pay and get home. By the time I got back, it was getting warm. The kind of warm we've been longing for for weeks now. The kind of warm it should've been all damn week, all damn month!!!!

Yeah, yeah, I can hear you nagging about "What's all that about global *warming* now, huh??", but you can cut the crap, I've had it with that. And I really don't want to get into that right now. It could only mess up my mood, which is good (for a change).

On to some better topics.
I love that one!
I came across a post from one of my Facebook contacts sometime this week, about a writing contest. The Writer's Weekly 24-hour writing contest, to be precise. Now, for those of you who know me, you'll understand why this got my attention, aside from being a writing contest. And for those who don't know ... scroll back to the top of the page here and have another look at that handsome devil. Now do you get it????

Anyways, I decided to enter.
At least, I was hoping I could still enter, because there's a 500 participant limit, so I was hoping I would still "make the cut". I entered all my information and submitted the form, then waited patiently (yeah, right), until 7 pm yesterday. At 7.01 pm I was checking my mail and .... BINGO!!!!! The topic had been dropped into my mailbox. I started reading it, finding my mind whirling with images in a matter of seconds. Images that instantly started competing for my attention, screaming "use me, use me", giving me a splitting headache in no time. DUH!! I blocked out the screams and continued reading. Maximum word count .... (uh-ohhhh, I'm not good with those) .... 925 words ... WHAT???? Are you kidding me??? 925????

Blahhhhh!!!! I write that in 5 minutes!
That is sooooo short!
I had been expecting a little more than that.
I've done it before though, actually, I've been doing it every Friday for a few months, but this ... no, this was a bit unexpected. It's really all about getting the damn thing right from the first try. Sure, you can change things and tweak it a little, but there's not a lot of room to work with. Really not.
I didn't start writing at once. I let it all just sink in and let the ideas take over, allowing them to fly freely and either grow or dissipate. One grew strong, but I only had one image to describe and a crushing ending. I started writing it, but pretty soon found myself struggling with it. The image just wouldn't expand. It usually does once I start writing, but here, it just didn't. It bulged somewhat, but not nearly enough to allow for a 925 word description of it.
So I saved it and closed it, started closing window after window of open programs (not that I have 20 of them open, but still, there are a few X's to click), but then I changed my mind, opened a new word document and started writing afresh. Something new. Something else.
There wasn't even a picture, it was just a nagging thought at the back of my mind, unwilling to leave me be, unwilling to let me go to bed and find sleep. I'm sure I would've laid awake, tossing and turning, had I gone to bed after all. There would've been no peace for me, so I did the only thing I possibly can do, I wrote the damn story!
It came out alright and I let it rest, the whole 899 words of it.
Today, I sent it to a friend for a "first impression" and that came back positive, so I opened the file again and had another read myself. I tweaked some, I changed some, I added some. Now, I think I'm done, but I'm waiting for a second opinion before moving on to the next step, which is to submit my story. I have a few hours to spare.

I'll keep you posted as to how it goes.
Keep your fingers crossed for me!!!!

Apr 13, 2013

Earning your wings - Friday Flash Fiction - all audiences

Hey guys,

Yes "another" Friday Flash Fiction.
It's not with the same prompt, as it originates on a different blog than usual. I found it a short while back, and decided to check this week's prompt. I felt good about it and gave it a go.

Here is the prompt:

Use the quote below to tell the story of how your primary character comes to the edge (a cliche). Note: Your character may/may not fly. However, he/she encourages others to start a new beginning – i.e. to “fly.” Spring offers new beginnings to grow and soar. Tell this story in no more than 1,500 words (no less than 800) with a balance of dialogue and imagery. Now let your story fly!

“Come to the edge, He said. They said: We are afraid. Come to the edge, He said. They came. He pushed them, And they flew . . .”
 — Guillaume Apollinaire -  French poet.

And here's the story.
Enjoy the read!

Earning your wings.

The winds were a lot stronger up here.
He never would have thought they might get this strong, even as high up as they were. But he was here now, and so were they, mere steps away from earning his wings. It was what he had worked towards for such a long time, but now, his stomach knotted up and he felt the nerves soar through his body, making his limbs tremble in fearful, yet excited, anticipation. He feared taking ‘the step’ as much as he was longing to take it. As much as he was looking forward to taking it. It was the last he would ever take and it was the first. The first of millions more. It was the contradiction that made him fearful. It wasn’t full blown fear though, he couldn’t describe it as such. It was more a waxing and waning anguish, flowing at the pace of his blood pulsating throughout his body.

He looked up at the sky, stark blue with an occasional fluff of white, the bright yellow fire ball sitting high above. He didn’t feel its warmth though. Not up here. Not with these winds. He felt no comfort at this time, even though the peaceful view usually brought some.
I’m not afraid’’ he told himself quietly, hoping to somehow calm his nerves and soothe his racing heart.
It had been a very long time since he had last felt like this.
Decades probably.
It was supposed to be healthy, but there was a dangerous undertone to the feeling.
Something ominous.
Something he couldn’t quite place.
Then again.
If he failed, he would not earn his wings.
That would be devastating.
All that hard work gone to waste.

“Okay, this is it.”
The voice startled him and he lowered his eyes from the skies to the man who had brought them here.
“Is everybody ready?”
They all acquiesced.
So did he.
He was ready.
“Okay, step right up.”
Why did he volunteer to go first?
“There is nothing to worry about.”

“I know.”

“Good. Here, let me anchor you.”
He watched closely as the man performed his actions quickly but securely, fastening a safety harness on him and connecting it to the thick cable overhead.
“Nothing can happen to you.”

“I know.”

“Everybody gather around. Stay behind the white line and you’ll be just fine.”

“But the winds.” someone said.

“Are not strong enough to lift you off your feet.”

They approached hesitantly, their eyes going back and forth between the men standing at the edge and the void beyond them.
They did not come as far as the white line, obviously distrusting their guide’s words.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, I am.”

“They don’t look like they are. Maybe it was a mistake bringing you up here today.”

“No, it wasn’t. We’re ready.”
He turned, overlooked the gathered group of people he had come to know so well over the past – What had it been? Months? Years?
“Come to the edge.” he said.

“We are afraid.” they said, almost as one.

“Come to the edge.” he said again.
“Look. It’s easy.”

He had no idea where he suddenly found the courage, but he turned back to the edge and stepped forward, into the void.
He fell, as expected, but then the safety line snagged him from his vertical pattern. In the same instant, his motion went from vertical to horizontal and he felt a different kind of nervousness soar through him.
Would he succeed?
He could not fail.
Failure was not an option.
It never had been.
It never would be.

“I can do this.” he said while the safety line slid along the cable.
“I can do this.” he repeated, louder this time.
“I can do this!”
He felt the strain in his neck and shoulders.
I can do this.”
A sudden flash of pain.
“Nothing to worry about.” he screamed at the top of his lungs.
He had to if he wanted to hear the sound of his own voice over the roaring winds.
“You can do this.”
The pain disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
He closed his eyes, picturing himself on his mind’s eye.
“You can do this.” he said slowly.

He was no longer screaming.
The winds were no longer roaring.
The safety line no longer held him.

He opened his eyes again. Looking down, he saw the world flying by him in a blur, unrecognizable at this speed. Looking up and to the side, his smile widened as much as his face would allow for.

YES!” he screamed, no longer out of necessity, but out of pure excitement.
I did it!

He tried to steer and felt his body respond.
He had not failed.
He had earned his wings.

With a huge smile on his face, he turned back to where the others stood waiting and watching.

“I told you it was easy.” he called from a distance, “Who’s next?”

The hesitation was slowly dissipating.
They needed more convincing.
He landed next to their guide, a small nod the only ‘reward’ for his achievement.

“You’re next.” he said, reaching for the one standing closest to him.
He quickly and securely anchored his fellow candidate, took a step to the side and nudged him gently.
“You can do this.”
With those words he gave another nudge, sending him over the edge into a vertical drop.
He didn’t remember screaming, but he guessed he must have until that line snagged on him.
“We can all do this.” he said, turning to the others, “This is what we have worked for. This-”
He deployed his wings.
“is what we all want.”

The booming voice made him turn, though not in fear or surprise.
It filled him with warmth.
“Not only have you earned your wings, you have also earned your title. Go and spread the word, my friend.”

“I will.”

He spread his wings and stepped off the edge, soaring on the strong winds as they carried him to the portal.
The gate swung open and he cleared it with a happy smile.

“Angels do exist.” he called to the lone man sitting outside.

“And you are one of them.” the old man replied quietly, a faint smile curling around his lips.
Another one who had come in, doubtful and in fear, and now flew back out on those same wings he had always belied.

Afterlife was good.

More entries can be found here
Also, be sure to check out even more entries linked on the different pages.

Apr 12, 2013

Busy Bee - Friday Flash Fiction Challenge - All audiences

This week's prompt for the flash fiction is the sentence "it's not unusual".
I hope you'll have as much fun reading this, as I had writing it.
It's what I like to call a "Moody Classic", meaning it has the classic "Moody Twist". For those of you who don't know me yet, you will soon find out what that means.

Have fun!!!

Busy bee.

She sat hunched over her keyboard and her fingers flew over the keys, pressing down quickly and lightly on those she needed. Her shoulders were slightly hunched and the frown on her brow deepened as the urgency in her eyes grew. She had to gather the information and she had to do it as fast as she possibly could. They were waiting for her and each minute that passed, was one too many. One more minute of danger to the teams waiting to proceed, one more minute added to the growing potential for total disaster. Her mind was racing, filtering through bits and pieces of information as they rolled across her screen, making connections at high speed. Connections that opened other doors. Doors that hid more information. Information that needed to be filtered.

She blew off her co-worker when he asked for assistance.
She didn’t have time for this.

“Not now.” she snarled as another one walked up to her station.

“Hey, but-”

“Can’t you see I’m busy!” she hissed, hunching her shoulders more.

She could only hope they would get the message and leave her alone.
She couldn’t afford to divide her attention.
Not now.

The frown grew wider and deeper. Things weren’t moving as quickly as they should and her feeling of frustration deepened along with her frown. She could feel the strain in her shoulders and arms, the building pain in her neck and the dull throbbing ache inside her skull.
This was getting ridiculous.
But she kept going, hands moving, muscles flexing.
She needed to get this done.
They needed her to keep at it and give them the information they needed.
Lives depended on it.
Lives depended on her!

Lives depended on her.

Lives never depended on her.
How come lives suddenly depended on her?
Shouldn’t they depend on someone else?
Shouldn’t someone else be responsible for the lives of those men?
Why was she-

You don’t have time for this. Finish your job and get that information out there.’

She focused on her screen again, seeing the cursor blink on and off.
It never had time to do that.
Not when she was working on something as important as this.
Cursing herself softly, she went back to it, rereading the last entry.

“Can you help me with this?”

The voice startled her.
She hadn’t noticed anyone coming up to her this time.
She was too focused.

“I’m busy. Go away.”
She couldn’t put it any clearer than that.


“Not now.”

“You have to help me, I can’t do it on my own.”

“What are we paying you for?” she snapped angrily.
God, she hated incompetent people.

Paying? What are you talking about?”

“Leave me alone. I’ve got a job to do.”

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

“What?” she snapped, getting very upset now.

“You’re stuck in your story again, mom.”

She looked away from her screen so suddenly she almost dropped out of her swivelling chair.
Next to her stood her own son, not some incompetent Federal Agent who couldn’t do his job on his own.
She had been stuck in her story again.
When she was on a roll, it wasn’t unusual.

More entries can be found here

Apr 6, 2013

I know why!!

I've read this article in the newspaper yesterday, about President Obama latest "slip of the tongue".
You know what I'm talking about, right?
This thing about the President paying a compliment to a female attorney general.

Well, I know why he did it!
And you know what?
I'm gonna share that secret with you!

Here's what the President said : "She also happens to be, by far, the best looking attorney general".

This simple statement hides a far more powerful truth about President Barack Obama.
You see, truth is, the President is gay.
This is just a simple way of making sure nobody will ever dare even suggest that he is. After all, gay men would never say things like this about women, now would they?
No, seriously. This whole marriage and two daughter thing, it's all just a front. He's hiding well, but compliments such as these are giving him away. I can see right through the whole charade.

Nobody has to worry about that compliment. The man wasn't being "sexist" or "dumb", it was a calculated move, much like so many others have been, to hide the ugly truth about his real and true nature.


No, seriously, all jokes aside, what woman in her right mind would feel offended or belittled or whatever, when one of the most powerful men in this world, pays her a compliment like that?
It's not like the President disrespectfully called her "a hot mama" or anything.
Since when is it wrong for a man to pay a compliment to a woman?
Since when does the whole world go into uproar because a man said something nice about a woman?

I think President Barack Obama is quite the looker, actually!

Is this going to make headlines across the world tomorrow??????
I don't think so.
Is it going to get me in trouble?
If it does, it'll probably be with his wife, and only if she thinks I'm a threat to her, which I'm not because married men are off limits. Period!
How big a wave is it going to make, when I say what I said up there?
I bet it isn't even going to cause a ripple!

So, why is it, that a statement, which is more likely intended as a pun (how many female attorney generals are there anyways?), causes such a huge wave?
Why is it, that we cannot get over ourselves at times like this?
I think it's about time we pulled our thumbs out of our asses and stopped being so goddamn politically correct all the time!

So President Barack Obama paid a compliment to a woman that is not his wife.

Big. Fucking. Deal. (do excuse my Dutch)

I would be honored and flattered if any guy (and I do mean any guy) called me the best looking whatever-job-I-would-be-in-with-normal-colleagues. I sure as hell wouldn't feel offended by it, especially not if that statement were a pun (because I'm the ONLY woman in that job, so I'm obviously the best looking one, no matter how butt-ugly I am).

Tell me one thing.
When did "politically correct" become "with a broom shoved up our asses so deep it pokes out through our nose"?
When did paying someone a compliment become "wrong", or "stupid", or "sexist", when that compliment is given respectfully and eloquently?

What is this world coming to, when everything we say and do is dissected and analyzed, taken apart and reconstructed, reproduced or pulled out of context, just so something negative can be said about it?
Wouldn't this world be a much better place, if we all looked at ourselves first?
How we act, how we speak to others and of others, what we value and what we don't give a damn about.
How can you judge me, if you know nothing about me?
Who are you to judge me, anyways?
Who gave you the right to judge me?
What gave you a reason to judge me?

Who are we to judge what a single man said?

Peace to you!

PS. Just in case, because I just know there will be people who will get their knickers in a twist over the first part of this post :

No offense to anyone, not to President Obama (whom I would love to meet), gays (all of those I've met, are absolutely wonderful people), or anyone else.

Get your knickers out of that twist already and enjoy life!

Apr 5, 2013

Child's Play - all audiences - Friday Flash Fiction

This week's prompt sounded very promising and I had half a dozen ways I could take it, but I chose to wait until I was actually ready to start writing, to decide where I would take it. I let "the flow" decide for me.
I hope you'll enjoy this short 'blurb'.

Welcome to my world!

Child’s play.

I didn’t have to think long about the title for this ‘work’.
It’s not always that easy though.
Sometimes I use a “working title”, sometimes I find a title that sounds ‘right’ before I even start to write, sometimes I end up keeping the working title; for lack of anything better.
What the hell am I talking about???
I bet you’re wondering about that.
Well, obviously – or not so – I’m talking about my writing.
It’s not always easy.

I like my title to give the reader a hint as to what they can expect from the story, but I also like to give it a twist if I can. I once wrote a story under the title “Presenting the bill” – which I intentionally misspelled – and proceeded to introduce Bill Buchanan – recurring role played by James Morrison on 24. It wasn’t revealed until right at the end, which is exactly what I wanted and intended. My readers loved it! So, my title worked! In more ways than one.
But like I said, it’s not always easy to find the right title.
Will it cover the load?
Will it hint to what might be coming without giving away too much?
Will it catch?

After all, a catchy title is always the best way to draw attention to your work. It should intrigue people, make them wonder what the underlying story might be about, make them curious about what is hidden within the pages, what adventure is mixed into the words. It should make them excited to find out how quickly you can take them from the front cover to the back, preferably in one swift swoop.
Isn’t that what we all want?
For people to pick up our book, or click on our link, and read our work in one sitting?
For people to want to find out what magic awaits behind the veil that is a title?
I know I do.
Always have, always will.
For as long as I’ve been writing, I’ve been trying to let people enjoy the magic of the word. I hope I’ll continue doing so for a very long time to come.

You’re probably wondering what this has to do with Child’s Play.
Basically, that’s what writing is to me.
It’s child’s play.
It’s a piece of cake.
I can sit down at my computer or pick up a notebook and a pen and just write. Fill the blank space with letters, words, paragraphs, chapters and make them all work together to tell a story. I can just do that. It’s that easy. I do not fear the blank page. I do not worry about minimum requirements – I usually go well over them. I do not hesitate to write, whatever is on my mind, whether that is good or not, whether that is fit for publishing or will forever remain private. The word does not throw me into a panic.
Right now, it’s 11.35 pm and I’m working on my entry for this week’s challenge.
Out of the blue.
Just like that.
Child’s play.

My mom would probably tell me to stop acting like a kid and get my act together, but what fun is there in that????

More entries to be found here