FOWC with Fandango/SoCS ~ Time for a new shirt #FOWC #SoCS


His favorite shirt now needed to be throughly cleaned. That’s really all that mattered to Patrick Mears-this shirt. It had always meant so much to him. Even more than his boss who was now slowly dying right in front of him. “Why couldn’t you just do the right thing for once?”  Patrick calmly thought. Eight years of trying to keep the dirty dealings of Waterman & Snells Financial services completely legal and not one extra dime over any average accountant’s salary was given to him, ever. Patrick felt he deserved this salary bump more than anyone else at this corrupt firm. Despite a convincing, fact-based argument to anyone else who would have heard it, Nick Margolis denied Patrick’s request. Where was the fairness in all of this?  The framed pictures of race horses and yachts around Nick’s office silently  mocked Patrick as he plunged a pen directly into Nick’s left eye. “I really liked this shirt”  He thought again as he looked down at the blood spill splattered all over his sleeve. Patrick felt genuinely sad over the unnecessary mess that had been made, completely ambivalent to the human life that  he had just ended.


Written for Fandango’s FOWC prompt- Spill and Linda G. Hill’s SOCS prompt


Friday Fictioneers ~ Terminal #FridayFictioneers


“I’m going to kill someone in this terminal” Aaron jumped up, hearing this. He looked around at the hundreds of people scurrying by in the airport. There was no one directly near him, just empty chairs where he was just sitting. “Who said that to him?” He thought, standing there with his heart still racing. He sat back down and continued to wait for his flight.
“You heard correctly. I will murder someone in here tonight. You won’t know who and you’ll never know me. Have a safe flight”
Aaron stood up frantically terrified that these thoughts were going to become reality.

(100 words)


Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit goes to Rochelle.

Visiting Dad ~#Father’s Day #themagicshop


Emily was leaving the cemetery when she spotted the man sitting alone on the bench. Today was Father’s day and perhaps he was here “visiting family”, Emily thought. She liked getting to know new people and perhaps even bringing them some comfort. On previous occasions, she would go up to total strangers and simply ask “How are you?” whenever she felt someone needed a friend. There was this undeniable charm in her personality, along with a pleasant voice, that often made people open up to her.

“Hello, mind if I sit here?”  Emily asked as she approached the man on the bench. His eyes were moist with tears,  his face looked tired.

“No, not at all. Lively company in this place is always welcomed.” He said with a forced grin that actually brightened up his face a bit. Emily gave a warm, genuine smile in return.  This was another one of her welcoming traits.

She sat down next to him.  They stared in silence out over the rows of tombstones, which never look frightening in a day’s early morning hours.

“Are you here for your Dad?”  Emily asked precariously,  knowing that sometimes this question can feel awkward.

The man turned slightly to Emily, both of them alone among the dead.  No other people were present. There wasn’t even a bird chirping, just quiet solace.

“I am,  lost him about four years ago.  I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing that man.  The way he was -when he was healthy.   He had this laugh, sounded like a damn mule. But,  I sure do miss it everyday.  The way he used to be”.

Emily slightly nodded, as if she knew the man’s father herself.

“I know, its hard.  You want to embrace them again, to hear them just one more time. This day must be tough for you every year, having to come visit him”.

She put her hand on his back to give a slight pat and rub. The gentle touch of a new companion who understands.

“It is.” He whispered. “But, I’m not here to visit him.  He’s here to visit me”

Emily lowered her arm away, confused. She suddenly felt slightly chilled by nerves.

The man’s eyes were dry now as he stared right at her.

“It’s what he wants, every year.  I know he’s not the same man, the cancer took that away!  But..he still wants to see me.”

Emily suddenly had this uncontrollable urge to leave. She now felt uncomfortable sitting here alone with this man, which is not an easy thing to do considering her knack for connecting with people.  Her mood lightened up when she saw another person approaching them through the headstones.  Any other mourner in the area would be reassuring to her right now.

Emily’s gift in helping people was truly something she took pleasure in. She always spoke with an upbeat tone in discussing any subject matter. But, she was now speechless by what shambled closer towards them.

“Oh good, he’s here.  At least, I’m not alone this year”.  The man on the bench said, happily as he stood up.

Emily stood there, unable to move as she continued to watch this person walk towards them.  It’s eyes were dark hollowed out openings, causing him to bump into some headstones. A piece of exposed jaw fell off,  hitting the ground.  Still, the voice from its mouth made a familiar sound.  It laughed, just like a mule.

It was then that Emily changed the calming tone of her voice to a high shrill of pure terror.


Happy Father’s Day, dear readers!



Friday Fictioneers ~ Time to spoon



“TWEEEEEEEEET’  the teapot whistled signaling it was done. This meant that the spoon was ready too. It took ten minutes for the stove to heat but, Allison felt it was longer. Doug began to move, perfect timing. She wanted him awake for this.
“What the?” Doug said as he awoke. He was tied down to a chair. Allison grabbed the spoon. The same one that Doug beat her with numerous times for years. It’s handle now so hot, Allison still felt warmth through her oven mitt. This time, she welcomed the spoon as she walked towards Doug’s unsuspecting bare back.

(100 words)


Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Valarie J. Barrett.

Tale Weaver – Decaffeinated


Risen from tombs where they wanted to stay

The instinct of hunger leading their way

Shambling slow at the pace of a snail

All are infected be them male or female

Their questioning groans beyond understanding

Looking for something to just have them keep standing

The ones who once loved them now seek places to hide

Until the needs of these things will soon hopefully be satisfied

There’s an answer to stopping these ill creatures by ending their pain

Its not what you think and angrily bashing in their brains

Why do such violence when they’re not walking zombies in undead misery?

They are everyday people who simply need brewed their first cup of morning coffee


Written for this week’s Tale Weaver prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Twitter Tales – Silence of space


He had never heard quiet like this before. Millions of miles above the noise of humanity, there was this all encompassing silence. Besides his link with the ship, it was absolute peace as he floated out in the stars. Then, Astronaut Lee Pelps heard something climbing up his leg inside his spacesuit.

(300 characters)


Written for this week’s Twittering Tales prompt from Kat Myrman. Photo credit: WikiImages at


Twittering Tales – Safe landing #twitteringtales #themagicshop


The pilot knew. Despite the current misery that the passengers were enduring, it was safer for them to stay onboard. They had landed two hours ago just as the storm began. Something was in the rain. A thing that pulled two men up off the runway with it’s tentacles as the pilot being the only witness.

(300 characters)

Written for this week’s Twittering Talesprompt from Kat Myrman. Photo credit: Adhitya Andanu at


Genre Writing Challenge #2~Coachman’s Abscence


Malcolm the butler didn’t mind taking over carriage duties once again for this evening, it meant that he got to leave his dull manor job for yet another night out. Normally, this was Phillips the coachman’s job to do but, he had recently abandoned his duties. It had been days since anyone had seen or heard from the man. The horses slowly trotted   down the cobblestone bridge as Malcolm guided them as best as he could being merely a beginner at this. He breathed in the night air, enjoying its freedom away from the stuffiness of Kensington mansion. Darkness surrounded the carriage as it proceeded away from the estate grounds and unto the long country roads towards town. Only the silence of an empty night could be heard under the sound of clopping hooves and rickety wheels.  Malcolm kept his eyes focused on the dirt road ahead of him when he saw something off on the side.  It was a man, waving his arms for Malcolm to stop the carriage.  Malcom pulled up on the reins, bringing the horses to a complete stop.

“Phillips, is that you?”  Malcolm said as he recognized the man to be the missing coachman.  He looked perfectly healthy and dressed ready to come back to work.

“Malcolm! My dear fellow, yes it is me, Phillips. Might I get ride from you back to the manor? It’s quite cold out here and I’ve been lost out here for some time”

“Of course, of COURSE! We’ve all been quite worried about you. Climb aboard, now”

Phillips climbed up the side of the carriage and sat next to Malcolm, who proceeded to motion the horses to get moving again.

“Well, I’m certainly glad to see you, Phillips. Good to see you’re safe, at least” Malcolm’s breath hit the cold air with a puff of frost.

“I’m glad to see you too, Malcolm” Phillips said, as he turned to look at where he was sitting. “There is just one problem”

Malcolm looked over at him away from the road, with a confused look.

“See….you’re sitting in the wrong seat. That’s MY SPOT”.

As Phillips finished his thought, he curled back his lips and lunged towards Malcolm. It didn’t take long for him to plunge his bite into the open neck of Malcolm and drain him dead. The horses stopped moving as Malcolm’s grip reflexively pulled on the reins in his now lifeless clutches.

Written for the Genre Writing Challenge #2 and the Story Starter Challenge prompt.


Genre Challenge #15 ~ Missing Cries #genre-writing #daily-prompt




It had been five years since Elaine Simmons  had been admitted into Bellevue Memorial psychiatric hospital.  She sat there now in the living area as other non-violent  patients were allowed to walk around freely.  Elaine hadn’t made much progress in her rehabilitation here at the hospital. She was court ordered to be admitted here, after the incident at the ‘Smiles for Awhile’ daycare center drove her clinical insane.

Six years ago, Elaine was a functioning academic professional and business owner.  The “Smiles for a while” daycare center that she owned was quite well-known and successful throughout all of Sussex county.  Parents from all different towns felt comfortable in dropping off their children at a place that was safe, affordable and convenient. Elaine herself was a parent of a twenty-seven year old daughter, Lisa, who also worked at the center.  The interior rooms of the center were decorated in bright,  joyous colors of yellows and pastel blues.  When you walked into the front foyer, (after being cleared by the staff via close-circuit cameras) a large painting of a flourishing green tree welcomed you.  The Words, “It’s time to smile! Won’t you stay with us for a while?”  were written on the tree’s bark.  For 11 years, Elaine took in infants from six months old up to children aged six into a place of pure joy and imagination. Former students (now Teenagers) would often come back to visit, reminiscing about the very special time they had  there. Elaine and her daycare center had made a genuinely positive impact on the lives of many people for years to come.

Then, the babies disappeared.

It was a typical busy Thursday in April when it happened.  The nursery room that watched the babies had five infants being cared for that day by long time employee, Mrs. Rosemarie Jameson.  She was a registered Nurse with a master’s degree in child psychology.   Elaine had hired Rosemarie as her first employee when she initially opened the school simply based on her work experience and bubbly personality.  For years, Rosemarie received nothing but praise and respect from parents for the level of care that she had joyfully given all their children under the age of eight months.

One spring morning,  Rosemarie left the room to go get more diapers from the adjoining supply room.  In multiple accounts and sworn testimonies from Rosemarie before she committed suicide, she had stated that she literally left the room for less than ten minutes. When she returned back with an arm full of diapers, all five cribs were now empty and all the infants had vanished.

It didn’t take long for Elaine Simmons’s world to completely unravel after the news became public. Every possible explanation had been researched, from the criminal to the spiritual. Mountains of forensic evidence were collected. There had been hours of interrogating anyone associated with the daycare center or the infants themselves. It had become a nationwide internet phenomenon that baffled everyone.

The parents of the missing infants were never the same.  After many of them destroyed Elaine financially through legal means, some also acted upon their unanswered pleas for justice. Elaine’s house and car had been vandalized multiple times. She was an outcast in all the towns that had kids in her daycare center, which was now closed by the state.  Lisa, her daughter went missing and had been rumored to be living somewhere else under an assumed name.

The babies were never found.

Today, Elaine sits staring out past the barred window into the hospital’s open yard.  A stream of drool  drips down out of her mouth and into her lap. Her memories are now deluded by various types of psychotropic drugs.  Occasionally, she recalls a place…a place where…. “You could smile for just awhile”.


Inspired by The Haunted Wordsmith’s Genre-writing prompt #115

The Bark Spoke~#100ww, #FOWC, #WOTD,#themagicshop


Coroner Alan Blaine’s theory on what he had just found within the strangle marks of the deceased couple-terrorified him.  Matthew Allen and Tammie Wilson were discovered last night lying next to a tree in Franklin Park. An open pocket knife was found in Matthew’s hand, yet there were no stab wounds or blood splatter on the victims. Upon inspection by police, they noticed flecks of wood and bark on its blade. Wood that looked similar to the pieces Blaine just pulled out of the victim’s necks.

“As if…”  Blaine thought “the tree itself  grabbed the couple.”

(100 words)


Written for Bikurgurl’s 100 Word Wednesday prompt and Fandago’s FOWC prompt-THEORY