Friday, March 30, 2012

The Chase

He chases her as she pants with exhaustion and terror.

He grabs her, rips at her flesh.

Pain searing through her body.

She cries out…“HELP!“

Nobody does.

She’s devoured by her savage stalker.


The challenge:

"Write a horror story in 33 words, without the words blood, scream, died, death, knife, gun, or kill. Good luck."

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Betrayal at home

After two long tours he was finally going to be home. As much as he couldn’t wait to leave when he graduated high school, he was eager now to get back. When the train came to a stop he put his hat on, threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and with a deep breath walked to the door. The crowd outside jumped and cheered when they saw him emerge on the platform. He stepped off the train, walked into the crowd and was instantly surrounded by family and friends. People were offering handshakes and hugs while others just cried with tears of joy that he was home safe. Even those at the station who didn’t know him were taken by the power of emotion at the event.

His girlfriend jumped to him, wrapping her arms and legs around his body and squeezing him as if she would never let him go again. He kissed her and the spectators cheers became even louder.

This is what makes it all with it, he thought to himself. People like this are who we're fighting for.

After the roaring crowd died down he stood tall with pride and thanked everyone in the town for the amazing welcome. It was moments like these that made him forget about all the things he had been through. It reminded him there is still good in the world.

He climbed into a car with his girlfriend and again everyone cheered for him as they drove off together. When they got back to her house he tossed his bag in the corner and kissed her again. He dreamt of this moment so many times. Played it out over and over in his head. Finally he held the woman he loved in his arms again.

He looked at her with love in his eyes, reached into the pocket of his uniform, and ran his fingers over the ring he had been carrying for over six months. “I have something important to ask you,” he said nervously.

“What is that?” she asked in a flirty voice with her arms still around his neck.

“I…I...” Stuttering with even more nervousness he paused.

She giggled and said, “What is it baby?”

As he started to speak again he was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Half relieved and half annoyed he reached over and answered it. “Hello?”

When he heard the other person’s voice he immediately knew who it was and spoke again without giving his friend a chance to say anything. “Tommy,” he said excitedly, “where the hell were you when I got off the train?”

As soon as she found out who it was on the other end of the phone her face became cold and concerned.

“Wait! Stop! You did what?!” he yelled.

She backed away from him and started to cry.

“But you’re my best friend, and she’s my girl. I can’t believe this.” He slammed the phone down and looked at her, this time with betrayal and pain in his eyes. “I loved you,” he said to her. “I went through hell over there, and the whole time you were doing that?!” He picked up his things and walked to the door. Before leaving he turned to her one last time, looked her in the eyes and said, “How cheap can you be?”


Above is another trifecta writing challenge.  This week's word is 'cheap'.  As always we are using the third definition of the word.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Protest of duties

The following is a response to this week's Trifecta writing challenge

Protest of duties

In hopes of a treaty with the neighboring lands, the great King Archibald, Lord of the realm Garidus, offered the hand of his first daughter Princess Catarina to the son of his born nemesis King Ignatius. For generations war existed between the two realms and this was their chance to make a better future for their people.

Princess Catarina was a being of immeasurable beauty. She wore long blonde hair that when braided, which was the common style of one holding her title, it reached her waistline. Her eyes were of the most radiant blue anyone had ever seen and it was said that when looked upon by them one felt she could see the secrets buried in the depths of their soul. She carried herself with poise and spoke with intelligence. With all these qualities it was understandable that whenever she left a room she carried with her some hearts.

It was the day of the engagement banquet when she finally spoke her protest. She walked into the court, with her head down, and requested an audience with the king in private. Concerned, the king granted her request immediately and they went to the royal study.

“Father,” she said, humbled, with her eyes driven into the ground, “I beg of you, don’t make me go through with this union!”

“My dear daughter, I thought this was settled. It is for the good of the realm.”

“But father, Prince Brayden is such a, forgive my language, a vile creature.

“Catarina, what gives you such an impression?” he asked.

Still looking at the ground she said, “Father you have heard the stories just as I. The savage battles he’s led, the amount of carnage left by his troops. It is apparent he cares of no one but himself.” She paused then looked up at her father. “You say it’s my duty, but I want to marry for love, not for politics. I want to marry someone with a warm heart, and a clean soul!”

Friday, March 16, 2012


This weekend’s trifecta challenge is to write a story entitled ‘Lost’ in exactly 33 words. The word ‘lost’ can only appear in the title, not in your 33 words. For more details see the trifecta writing challenge at

My response:


Her voice echoes around him, resonating from every direction.

Impossible to pinpoint the source he cries out to her.

His scared voice trembles.

She can’t hear him!

Where is she?!

Where is he?!

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Response to a writing prompt...

Thanks to a prompt from the blog Daily Writing Practice which can be viewed at

This exercises was a first line prompt and the following is what I ended up with...

There is a ghost wind blowing on an otherwise still, dead night.  It comes with no howl.  No rustling of the leaves.  No sign of its presence at all. None except the soul shaking chill it sends up his spine as he embraces her with every fiber of his being.  He refuses to let go, knowing it is going to be the last time he ever holds her.

His body shakes as she gently pulls away to place a soft kiss upon his lips. The shaking of his body explodes into a searing emotional pain throughout his entire essence.  She continues to pull away and the only thing he can do is lean forward in hopes to prolong the inevitable.  As the union of their lips break, so does his spirit.  She backs away without a word, only a single tear running down her cheek. 

He feels as if he should cry too.  He wants to cry! But he can't!  That chill that shot up his spin in some way must have frozen his heart.  Locking him in that moment for what felt to be all eternity.  She continued to step back, fading into the darkness.  Their eyes never left each other, until that final moment came and she was gone from his sight, and his world, forever. 

He still couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't feel.  What was he to do? She wasn't only his life, she was his being.  She was everything that made him who he was.  He couldn't go on without her so he made the choice not to fight the coldness.  He simply stood there, motionless, not thinking, until the darkness surrounded his body as well, being absorbed into nothingness by the vast unknown.

Monday, March 12, 2012

The Dreamer

I have always been considered a bit of a dreamer. Growing up, no matter where I was, I could always just drift off into my own world. At school it was called day-dreaming, at home they called it an active imagination. To me it was just normal.

Naturally, because of this, as I got older I became interested in all sorts of writing in an attempt to channel this 'creativity'. Some I excelled in more than others, but eventually I stopped writing on a regular basis.

It had always been a plan of mine to write again, but it kept getting pushed back by things in 'the real world'. It seemed like there would always be time to write, and I could do it whenever I wanted. But if that were true, then why wasn't I doing it?

Then, one day at my 'real job,' in that 'real world' I was talking about, I transferred to a new unit in my company. There I met someone who had published a book of what he described as an original collection of urban poetry and story-telling. Instantly it came up in conversation and I responded with a statement that every writer hears all too often...

"I've always wanted to write a book."

He looked at me and said, "so why haven't you?"

I responded with just about every generic excuse you could think of and he simply said, "the only thing stopping you is you."

He was right! I found that simple statement to be immensely inspiring and that week I started writing again. I truly believe everyone has at least one great story inside of them. The trick is getting it out for the world to enjoy. Through that one statement I came to realize our biggest obstacles are ourselves and our insecurities.

Just as I have remembered my dream, I urge everyone who reads this to do the same. Face those insecurities that have stopped you until now and push through them. You may surprise yourself!