#VisDare 41 : Transfixed

We returned to Old Phoenix, as the sun was setting. “Follow us!” the cats mewed. They led us to an old warehouse someone had converted into a theater. There were several tables along the East wall. The cats led us to one. “Sit! Sit!”

Alice whispered, “This is Josie’s place.”

A man in a tuxedo, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses approached the table. He poured a drink for each of us. A woman sat down at a piano in the north-west corner of the warehouse, and started to play.

“Josie!” Alice grabbed my hand, as a woman in a wedding dress, and ballerina shoes pirouetted across the floor. She stopped before us. Alice sat, transfixed, staring at the woman, unable to speak.

The woman took my hands, and placed them on Alice’s. “Help her.” As she danced, I wondered how I could help Alice.

150 Words

This is part 26 in the continuing story I’m working on for Angela Goff’s Visual Dare. Please read the other entries in this week’s Visual Dare challenge.

If you wish to read the entire tale, you can find it, starting with Part 26, running back to Part 1, here.

#55WordChallenge : The Fence – Part 21

Before we could act, eagles fell from the sky, their talons and beaks seeking flesh and blood. A pack of wolves raced from behind the building, joining the eagles. And the strange man I’d seen days before was suddenly there. He gently picked up Alice and they were gone, over the hills, into the sun.

 55 words

This is part 21 of the serial story I’m working on for Lisa McCourt Hollar‘s #55WordChallenge flash fiction challenge. Please, go read all the other entries in the challenge this week. It’s flat amazing what gifted writers can say in just 55 words.

If you wish to read all the parts of the story, they are in order, from most recent to first, here.

#FinishThatThought 14 : That Doesn’t Belong There

“Humans. Geeze,” I thought, as I looked at the store’s magazine display. “Males, especially.” I shook my head, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, and I’d be wasting my time, I started sorting through the magazines as I looked, putting them back where they belonged. Each time I found one out-of-place, I heard myself think, “That doesn’t belong there.” So, I’d pick up the misfiled magazine, and put it belonged, with the other copies of itself.

It was how I made any sense at all out of the magazine display. The only way I could figure out what I had, and had not looked at. The only way I could figure out what they actually had for sale.

I knew I’d do the same thing on the grocery shelves, or the clothes racks, or any other open display I wished to look at. I knew I would have to, just to keep myself from going insane.

As I sorted the magazines, I noted a new issue of Car and Driver was available. I picked one of them up, and examined the cover. As usual, the cars on the cover drank gasoline like an alcoholic drinks alcohol. By the gallon. “A car technology magazine, priding itself on the state of the art in automobiles, and they advertise, and evaluate dinosaurs.” I carefully put the issue back where it belonged, with the other copies of Car and Driver.

“Shotgun Magazine.” I shook my head. It wasn’t even in the right area. Some lazy bastard had picked it up, while his wife shopped, and he was killing time. And when she came and got him, he just threw it back on the rack, anywhere. “Typical.”

Did I mention I didn’t have a high opinion of my fellow males?

“At least it’s not February.” The month Sports Illustrated published it’s Swimsuit Issue. And you could find copies of that sucker all over the display rack. Hidden behind other magazines. By males who didn’t want their significant others to know they’d peeked at it’s contents. Inevitably, you’d find Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues behind such things as Science Digest and Time. And sometimes, even behind Shotgun Magazine.

There were days I felt like the chaos of the magazine rack mirrored the chaos the planet was descending into. A planet of “there’s only me.” A world where no one thought about anything but what they wanted. And if you wanted the same thing, they’d run over you with a truck to get to it first.

There were times I stared at the chaos of car magazines, gun magazines, and magazines whose sole purpose was to teach men to think with a certain part of their anatomy (and I don’t mean their brains), jumbled together on a store rack, and I knew why the country was all FUBAR. The country just mirrored the condition of the magazine rack.

Human males. Geeze. There really was no hope for the species.

493 words

I wrote this for Week 14 of Alissa Leonard‘s Finish That Thought. Please, go read all the creatively shared stories in this week’s challenge.

#SatSunTails 59 : Artificial Help

Danielle sat on the sofa, her feet up next to her. It showed off her gorgeous legs, encased in screamin’ blue boots, and black stockings. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She had on headphones, and was listening to her music again. Her right hand keeping time with it, her eyes closed, and her smile melting the ice in my drink. Gods, she was hot.

On most Friday and Saturday nights she stayed at our house, where she was safe.

Sometimes I wished I could load up with assault weapons, and oceans of rounds for them. And hunt down the slimes that had hurt her. The ones that treated her like a princess, and then took her home and raped her.

Her music, her smile, the way she dressed, was all artificial help she used to distract herself, so she wouldn’t have to feel the wounds in her heart.

150 Words

This is my entry into Rebecca Clare Smith‘s 59th #SatSunTales. Please, go read the other entries. It’s a tough challenge, and brings out some wonderful tales.

#FSF : Celebration

Every Wednesday night, during the prayer service, the pastor asked the same question, “Do we have any praises to God this week?”

That’s when Bobby stood up, “Yep! I do!”

Bobby’d just been laid off after working for 30 years with the same company. It was heartbreaking, how it happened, with him being sent home on medical leave to recover from major depressive disorder and panic attacks.

That night, in front of the whole church, Bobby belted out, “After 30 years of slavery, I’m free, and that’s worth celebrating!”unique, and lives by the rules of her heart.

Another one for Lillie McFerrin‘s flash fiction challenge, Five Sentence Fiction. This week, the prompt is Celebration.

Please, go read all the other entries to this week’s Five Sentence Fiction. It’s amazing what creative people can do with just five sentences.

#ThursThreads Week 90 : He Could Be The One

Arrogance and Pride hid in the shadows between two buildings and watched Simon walk past, on his way to church. Arrogance grinned and Pride reminded him, “Patience, evil one. Patience.”

After Simon passed, the demons followed him, creeping silently between the shadows on the sidewalk, staying out of Simon’s sight. They could feel the delicious anger raging in Simon’s heart.

“He could be the one,” Pride whispered.

“He is the one.” Arrogance replied.

They listened as Simon muttered, “Homos, trying to corrupt my church. I’ll show them.”

Pride and Arrogance fueled Simon’s fire, as they whispered in his ears.

“The nerve of them, thinking we will tolerate their sin!”

“Thinking we don’t know the words of our Lord and Savior.”

“Men sleeping with men is a vile sin. It says so in the word of God!”

Simon went to his office in the church. Pride and Arrogance, hidden in his shadow, followed him. As he reviewed the notes for the lesson he would teach that day, he muttered to himself again, “I cannot let them corrupt God’s children.”

And Arrogance and Pride fueled his anger once again.

“Call them out by name!”

“Tell everyone they will corrupt the church.”

“Unless we remove them.”

In the service, Simon waited impatiently as he sang praises to God and Jesus above, and prayed for God to grant him the strength to do what he had to.

And when he stood before God’s children on that Sunday morning, Arrogance and Pride stood beside him.

250 Words

I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 90. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.

#55WordChallenge : The Fence – Part 20

“Who are you?”

She looked at me, “You know.” She raced deeper into the hills. I followed. We reached the top of a hill, and she stopped. “There.” She pointed to a building made of cylinders, covered with windows. Several men stood before it. They tossed a bound woman toward its entrance.

Alice. My mother.

55 words

This is part 20 of the serial story I’m working on for Lisa McCourt Hollar‘s #55WordChallenge flash fiction challenge. Please, go read all the other entries in the challenge this week. It’s flat amazing what gifted writers can say in just 55 words.

If you wish to read all the parts of the story, they are in order, from most recent to first, here.