December 2018 – Waiting . . .


Alone sad abandoned lady crying on steps in dark

Hello and welcome to December. I can’t believe it’s the last month of the year already. And, this is our last photo flash fiction of 2018. This picture struck me as somewhat sad and, I decided no way. It’s the holidays so no sadness. Hope you enjoy what I wrote.

Sara sat on the twisting stone stairs with her chin resting in her hands. The little red dress did nothing to keep her warm, but she’d rather sit in the drafty old stairs then head back to the party. She loathed her mother and step-father’s holiday party. Everything was too bright, too loud and there were far too many people. She’d lasted about an hour, her norm, but she couldn’t leave. Oh no, her mother expected her to mingle and talk. That wasn’t Sara. That was never going to be Sara.

The crowd overwhelmed her. She never knew what to say. So, she hid. This year, though, her mother has chosen to hold the party at a castle. Oh, not a real castle, since they were miles and miles away from the United Kingdom. Someone, she forgot who, decided to build a replica castle in the middle of nowhere and now people could rent it out. Her mother has been so excited. Sara, not so much. She didn’t know the place as well as the hotel her mother and step-father normally chose so she sat in the drafty stairwell that led up to one of the towers.

A slight noise caught her attention and she looked up to find Jack watching her. He was so handsome with burnished blond hair and cool blue eyes. Her mother insisted on labeling him her older brother, but she certainly didn’t think of him that way. She’d been sixteen when her mother had remarried. Jack was her step-father’s oldest son and he’d been twenty-six and deployed when her mother and his father married.

Not long after, Sara had sent him a birthday card since her mother had told her it would be “the polite thing to do.” Dutifully, she’d purchased a card and had written an awkward introduction, never expecting anything in return. She’d been surprised to find a letter from him a few weeks later. It hadn’t been long, but she’d liked how he didn’t talk to her like a kid, so she’d written him back. That has started their exchange of letters and, Sara had felt, she finally had someone she could confide in. She could say all the things to Jack she wasn’t able to say to anyone else.

In the nearly six years, they rarely met face to face, but they always wrote. In fact, she was the first person to know he was leaving the service. And, that he was planning to move back to the city. The whole idea confused her. Sara was so glad he’d left the service, but she didn’t know what she was going to do without her confidante. There was no way she could say the things she’d said face to face. And, now that he was back, he had a life. She knew he and a friend had started their own business and that he was dating someone. She’d overheard her step-father tell her mother he thought it was serious. So, Jack didn’t need her letters. Didn’t need her.

He stepped forward and sat on the step below her. The black tux he wore stretched taut over his broad shoulders and it took everything she had not to reach out and touch him. Turning, he propped his shoulder against the wall and smiled at her.

“I’ve been looking for you.”


“What do you mean why? I wanted to see you. No,” he said, shaking his head, “I had to see you.”

She gave a small shrug. “Well, here I am.” Nervously, she picked at the hem of her dress.

“Sara,” he said, reaching up to take her hand.

God, the shock of the warmth of his hand almost made her freeze. How long had it been since someone touched her? That she let anyone touch her? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t feel bad though. No, not at all. It made her feel real, more present.

“Your hands are cold.”

He took both of her hands in his and gently rubbed them. She finally looked up to meet his eyes and he gave her a small smile.

“There you are. My Sara. What do you say we get out of here? It’s too cold to sit here and I don’t want to go back to the party.”

“What about your date?”

His brow wrinkled. “What date?”

“Your dad said you were dating someone.”

He gave a small laugh. “No, I’m not. Besides, I came here to see you. To talk to you. So, are you ready to leave? We can go someplace and get something hot to drink. Talk.”

Sara didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

He took her hand and pulled her off the steps. Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm he led her out of the cold stairwell and into warmth and light.

Bronwyn       Siobhan

When Night Falls



Welcome to the photo flash fiction for November. The pic above is a amazing and so many thoughts flew through my head when I saw it. I hope you like what I came up with. Enjoy!


Fog writhed across the ground as Caitlyn slowly turned onto a one lane road and pulled up to a set of iron gates. She checked the address Grigori had given her against the plate attached to the gate and found an exact match. Rolling down her window, she punched the code into the pad tucked discretely behind a large bush and the gates slowly swung open.

She drove through and watched in the rearview mirror as the gates shut behind her. Clutching the steering wheel, a bit tighter, she followed the drive around until she pulled to a stop in front of a huge stone house. The fog was so heavy she could barely make out the steps that lead up to a massive front door, never mind trying to see anything else.

Caitlyn shut off the car and grabbed her purse to step out of the car. Quiet. It was so quiet. Nothing moved. There was no wind, no birds. Nothing. Just the slowly undulating fog that crept across the ground. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she was the last person alive in the world.

Rolling her eyes at the thought, she clutched her purse a bit tighter and marched up the front steps. She rapped smartly on the door, but paused as it silently swung open. A slight frisson of fear danced up her spine as goosebumps made an appearance on her arms.

I’m not scared, she told herself. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing here can hurt me.

Keeping that thought in mind, she stepped into the large open hall and closed the door behind her. A flicker of light to the left caught her eye and she moved toward it to find a living room dominated by a large fireplace. A fire roared and crackled illuminating a small table draped in a crisp white tablecloth set for two. Caitlyn stepped in and dropped her purse on the couch on the way to the table.

Across one of the plates lay a perfect red rose under a card with her name scrawled in a heavy, masculine hand. The man did not miss a trick. Picking up the rose, she ran her fingers over the velvety petals as the soft sweet fragrance of the flower enveloped her.

“I see you found the place with no problem.”

She spun to find the man himself leaning against the door jam watching her. Damn he was handsome with a thick head of black hair, sharp cheekbones and lips she could kiss for days. Of course, the Russian accent only added to the appeal. She sometimes wondered how the hell she’d gotten so lucky.

“This is quite the house,” she said. “The drive was long and if it weren’t for the GPS I don’t know if I would have found it.”

“I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t be disturbed.”

He stepped up to cup her face in his large hands. They stared at one another as he slowly lowered his head and took her lips. The kiss was like coming home. She’d missed him, but it couldn’t be helped since his job, his life, often kept him away.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, as if he’d read her thoughts.

“I was just thinking that. I hate when I don’t see you.”

“Good, since I don’t like being parted from you. What would you say if I asked you to be with me? Forever?”

“Be with you? Like married?”

He nodded and smiled. Fangs. Long fangs slid from his upper teeth. “What do you say? Will you be mine?”

Caitlyn smiled and jumped into Grigori’s arms. “Yes, yes, I’ll be yours.”



Jessica   Bronwyn   Siobhan

October 2018 Dragon Flight


The song this month was another one I hadn’t heard before.  It’s called “Towers Fall into the Sea” by Clocks and Clouds.  I really like it and, as soon as I heard it, all I could think of was dragon flight. Here is Raisa (you met her in the song flash from March 2018) and her dragon. Hope you enjoy.

Raisa staggered back as Cynfael stood and stretched. He was enormous. He was also beautiful. Black scales shimmered with a million colors danced in the light as he spread his wings. Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked at him. No creature should be this beautiful. Ever. No creature should also never inspire equal parts awe and total absolute fear.

“Come, we will fly.”

Raisa glanced around, wondering who he was speaking to. When she didn’t see anyone, she looked up to find him watching her. If she didn’t know any better she would think he was laughing at her as he raised one brow.

“I can’t fly,” she finally managed.

He lowered his head until they were eye to eye. Or as eye to eye as anyone could be with an enormous freaking dragon.

“I will fly. You will ride. I need to think on your request and flying helps me clear my mind.”

Equal parts fear and excitement welled up as goose bumps spread over her body. This magnificent being wanted to take her flying? What if it was a trick and he was going to drop her? And, really, if he wanted to kill her he would have already done so. He didn’t need to drop her from the air, hell he could have just eaten her.

She nodded, not quite trusting her voice. She twisted her hands nervously as he lay next to her and motioned for her to climb up. Or, at least, that’s what she thought he wanted.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, realizing it sounded stupid as soon as she said it.

“Grab ahold of the plate next to my arm and pull yourself up,” he directed. “Sit right behind my neck and lean against the first spine.”

She carefully followed his directions until she was sitting where he told her. Two horns grew out of the side of his head and curved back so that if she reached out she could just touch one. She gripped the plate in front of her as he slowly rose to his feet. Raisa closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing and not how far away the ground was.

“Are you well?”

She shuddered at the vibration of his voice going through his body since it hit her where she straddled his neck. Shit, this could not be happening. She couldn’t be turned on. Could she?

“Answer me,” he said.

Yep, she was turned on.

“I’m fine.” Her voice came out husky and she cleared her throat to try again. “I’m fine. Just getting used to the height.”

He made a noncommittal sound as he moved toward one of the huge walls of the cavern. The wall didn’t look any different than any of the others, but she held on since this was his home. He began to move quickly and spread his wings as they neared the impenetrable stone. Gasping, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were airborne.

The wind raced by and she leaned low to gain as much cover as she could from the scale she sat behind. Raisa kept her eyes trained on Cynfael’s head not wanting to take the chance of looking down. She’d never been bothered by heights before, but then again, she’d never been this high before.

He moved his wings easily and she found herself beginning to relax. This was amazing. The night sky was lit with stars and she took the opportunity to look up. The city didn’t afford her this view, due to all the ambient light, so she studied the billions and billions of stars spread out before her.

Crossing her arms over the top of Cynfael’s scale, she rested her chin on her folded hands and just enjoyed the ride. She knew she was one of the few humans that had ever been allowed on a dragon’s back. She was one of the few humans to actually have any kind of interaction at all with a dragon. Usually, when a human and dragon met, it didn’t end well for the human. Shit, it could still end badly, but she refused to think about that now. Not when she was flying.

She didn’t know how long they flew, but the sun was just touching the horizon when Cynfael headed right for the sheer face of a mountain. In the blink of an eye, they were through the rock and he had landed right back where they started.

Raisa slid off his back and walked stiffly to stand in front of him. Looking up at him, she smiled.

“That was amazing. Thank you so much.”

He inclined his head.

“I have decided to help you.”

“Wow. Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. Now disrobe.”


Bronwyn    Siobhan

October 2018 Promptly Penned


Welcome to the October edition of Promptly Penned! I’ve been waiting for this PP since the prompt is so awesome. As always, it’s in bold print in the flash. Enjoy!!

Shay slowly pulled her knees up under herself as she placed her hands on the ground and pushed. Okay, yeah, this standing up business was for the fucking birds. Wasn’t happening, not right now anyway. Didn’t matter since she was able to survey the area just fine from the ground, or, at least, that’s what she told herself. From what she could see, the . . . monster, thing, whatever was gone. Sure, technically, it had been blown to bits, but still no longer able to cause havoc. So, yay, win-win for their team. About damn time.

She rested her forehead on the ground and concentrated on breathing. Yep, breathing was really good. Breathing and not throwing up was even better.

“Shay. Shay?”

The deep baritone voice spoke softly from her side and she couldn’t stop a shiver. Damn the man . . . Fae, whatever. Even feeling like warmed over dog shit his voice made her want to drop her panties. She had to stop thinking about that. Some how she had called him, she still wasn’t sure how that happened. Shay refused to question it. He and his companion were here to help them and she certainly couldn’t indulge in any fantasies that involved him naked. Him naked as he murmured to her in that voice. Him naked, murmuring to her as he licked her—

“Shay, please say something.”

“Shay! For fuck’s sake woman, sit up.”

Ahhh, Josie. If anyone could ruin a fantasy it was her. Shay couldn’t tell her that she was a fantasy cock blocker. Could she? Maybe?

“Come, let me help you.”

Shay looked up in Kearney’s face as he helped her sit up. Wow, the man was fucking beautiful. All that onyx skin and cobalt hair just did something to her.

He smiled at her. “I think you’re lovely too.”

Josie stuck her face close to Shay’s and smiled. “Oh, yeah you’re so pretty, girl. All that blood looks so good on you. It really brings out your eyes.

“Fuck you,” Shay muttered, mortified that she’d blathered on about how beautiful Kearney was. And, in front of everyone. Great.

Siraj, Kearney’s partner, pulled Josie back. “Let her have some room.”

“What happened?” Shay asked, finally able to get a good look at their surroundings.

“You pulled a vast amount of power,” Kearney said, scowling. “You annihilated the drogath

“That’s a good thing,” Shay declared, trying to stand.

He put his arm around her and she forced herself not to lean into him. No leaning. Nope. He was a fellow warrior. Nothing more.

“Yes, but not if you kill yourself in the process.”

He practically growled the sentence so it took a moment to understand what he was saying.

“I have this power and I need to use it,” she argued.

“Yes,” he agreed, “but you need to understand it. You need to learn to use it. You’re flinging all of your energy at the enemy without any thought to your own safety.”

“What am I supposed to do? Sit back and let people die?”

“No, you need to learn to pull the energy from your surroundings. That is what you should be doing? Have you not had any training?”

Shay shook her head slowly as Josie asked, “So, she was supposed to go to school or something?”

Siraj said something in a guttural language as he kicked at the dirt. Shay had a feeling that things had just gone from shit to totally fucking shit.

Now go and check out what my fellow bloggers did with the prompt.

Jessica   Bronwyn   Siobhan

Need the Sun to Break


This month our song is one of my very favorites. It’s James Bay’s Need the Sun to Break. If you haven’t heard it . . . well you are so missing out, let me tell you. So, click this link to listen to the song:

As soon as I thought at the song, one of my favorite couples popped into my head: Spencer and Cara. My bad boy biker and his PdD. So, here they are:


“Spencer, can you come out and talk to someone? She had an appointment with Chad and, of course, he didn’t bother to tell anyone he’d booked it.”

Spencer looked up from cleaning his station and stared at Deanne. Part of him, a huge part wanted to tell her where she could tell the customer to stick her appointment. In fact, why hadn’t Deanne done it herself? Fucking Chad. The guy was useless and now he wasn’t only useless, but still causing problems. He knew he couldn’t have her blow off the customer. It was his shop and, as owner, had to take responsibility.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” He knew he sounded pissed, but couldn’t help it. The day had been going so well too. He’d finished all his appointments and was actually thinking of taking off early.

“Be nice,” Deanne whisper hissed at him. “Chad might have been a total bag of dicks, but that’s not Cara’s problem.”

Right, he thought, so it was his problem. He stepped out into the customer waiting area to find his cousin Deacon and Deanne laughing and talking with someone. The woman looking at the art on the wall turned and smiled at him. Spencer’s heart did a weird flip and he couldn’t quite catch his breath. What the fuck? He really wanted to open his mouth and say something, but he couldn’t manage to do anything, but stand and stare.

She was stunning. Long blonde hair pulled off a small delicate face with huge blue eyes and lips, shit her lips were incredibly. He could imagine himself kissing those lips for days. Sucking on them and teasing them with his tongue.

“Spencer this is Cara.” Deanne’s voice clawed into his brain. “She’s a friend of Holly’s. Cara, this is Spencer. He owns the place.”

The woman stepped up and held out her hand. “Hello, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Spencer forced himself to breath and took her hand. It was small and soft in his large callused grip and he briefly wondered what her hand would feel like stroking his cock. Forcing his mind away from that thought, he cleared his throat.

“So, Deanne said you had an appointment.”

Yeah, great job asshole. You sound like you can’t string two words together. Get it together.

“Holly recommended your shop and somebody booked me with Chad. This was only going to be a consult, but now I find out he’s not here.”

“Chad doesn’t work here anymore,” Spencer said, not wanting to add that the fuckhole had tried to steal from him. Yeah, Spencer put a stop to that.

Deacon shook his head. “That asshole. Good riddance. You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with him.”

“Is there a way I can talk to someone else or maybe make another appointment? I’ve never done this before so I really don’t know it works.”

“I can try and clear my calendar,” Deacon said.

“No,” Spencer found himself saying. “why don’t you come back to my station and we can talk.” He glanced over his shoulder at Deanne. “Hold my calls.”

Yeah, okay, he really shouldn’t do this. His calendar was booked close to six months out, but he couldn’t let this woman leave. Wouldn’t let her leave. Even though she was so far out of his league it was like she lived on another planet. None of that stopped him. He wanted to sit and talk to her. Breath her in, since she smelled so fucking good. And, why did it seem that Deacon and Deanne knew her? He knew he would have remembered meeting her.

“So, do you have ideas about the kind of tattoo you want?” he asked, forcing his brain back into business mode.

“I wasn’t sure how this worked, so I brought some pictures with me.” She pulled a sheath of papers out of her purse and laid them on the table between them. “I don’t know if someone copied them. I wasn’t sure.”

He opened the papers and found a mixture of photo copies and scribbled drawings. Not very good scribbled drawings.

“Did you do these?”

She blushed and nodded. “It’s horrible, I know.”

“What’s it supposed to be?” He hated to ask her, but his four-year-old nephew’s art was better.

“It was my attempt at drawing snapdragons. Deanne suggested it might be better to bring pictures so I printed those out.”


“Yes, I love them and they mean new beginnings. I thought it would be appropriate since I just graduated and am getting ready to start a new job.”

Graduated? Spencer almost cursed out loud. There was no way she could be only twenty-two, right? Fuck, if she was then she was definitely not someone he could get involved with. He was thirty-four and couldn’t imagine being with someone twelve years his junior.

“So, what did you major in?” he asked.

“Major? Oh, no,” she said, smiling again. “I just finished my Ph.D. in mathematics.”

Ph.D. Yeah, she was way, way, way out of his league. Somehow though, he didn’t care. He wanted to get to know this woman so much better.


Now head over to read what Bronwyn, Jessica and Kris wrote to go with the song.


Familiar Face


Welcome!! Our prompt this month is awesome. I’ve been waiting for it very impatiently. Instead of it being dialogue or a few lines, it’s actually a situation we’re writing to. The prompt says: You’re in an interrogation room. A man walks in and throws a bunch of photographs on the table in front of you. The photos are old and taken at different points in history. You’re in each one. He demands to know who you are.

So, here we go:


Detective Jason Davis walked into the interrogation room and stared hard at the man sitting at the table. He didn’t know his name, but he certainly knew his face. High cheek bones, up-tilted eyes, long patrician nose, and full lips. Shit, no, not full lips. Couldn’t think of him like that. He was a suspect . . . or something. Jason just didn’t know quite what yet.

The man looked up and raised one eye brow. Green. The man had pure green eyes. The pictures hadn’t shown that. It also hadn’t shown the bronze skin and white gold hair. Worn longer, Jason thought, unlike the pictures.

“So, are you going to tell me why I’m here or am I supposed the guess?”

The man’s rich baritone filled the room and it took everything in Jason to stop the shiver. Gritting his teeth, he tossed the small stack of images on the table so they spilled across the surface. The man didn’t look at them, but continued to watch Jason.

“Would you care to explain?” Jason asked.

Carefully, the man spread the images out so he could, presumably, study each one. He didn’t betray anything as he looked each picture over then calmly moved it aside. He did this until all eleven pictures were back in a small stack.

“They’re old photos.”

Jason wondered if the accent he had was fake. If almost sounded like the Wakandan accent from Black Panther, but he wouldn’t swear to it. Instead of asking, Jason sat across from the man who had captured his interest almost a year ago. Was it legal for him to bring the guy into interrogation? Probably not. Jason really didn’t have any proof he’d committed a crime. He just knew something was off. Way off.

“The first photo was taken about 1842,” Jason said. “The last about twenty years ago. So, Mr. Jackson, can you explain to me, how you’re in every single picture.”

“Kael,” he finally spoke. “My name is Kael.”

“I don’t see that in any records I have.:

Jason shuffled through the paperwork in front of him, knowing that name wasn’t in any of it. He knew because he had done extensive research on the man across from him. Extensive? Okay, obsessive. He’d done obsessive research. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself. There was something about the man that Jason found compelling. Every time he told himself to stop. To put it away. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. No matter what, Jason had to know, to understand.

Kael folded his massive arms and leaned back in the chair. The piece of furniture groaned audibly, but the man sitting in it didn’t seem to notice or care.

“You have nothing to hold me,” he finally spoke. “I haven’t committed a crime.”

He rose to go, but Jason shot his hand out to grip the man’s wrist. The first thing he noticed was the jolt he received from touching Kael. Jason knew it wasn’t physical, per se, like a lightning strike, but emotional. He immediately got hard. And that never happened. He was an adult male and had control over his body. This man though . . .

Looking down he saw his dark skin next to Kael’s much lighter bronze hue and wondered if he was that color all over. Fuck, he had to stop.

Kael didn’t shake his arm off. Instead, he placed his hand over Jason’s and it was as if Kael had grabbed his cock. Shit, it took everything he had not to moan.

Kael smiled and retook his seat. Jason wasn’t sure what the man had seen . . . sensed, whatever, but Jason was glad he stayed. Because he was right. Jason didn’t have a damn thing to hold him. Hell, if anyone found out he’d asked this man to come in and used the interrogation room he’d probably be fired.

“The pictures,” Kael said. “How did you find them?”

“This one is from my mom’s side of the family.” Saying this, Jason pulled an image from 1885 out of the stack. He knew all about it. He’d studied it as for years. The picture had hung from his grandmother’s wall and Jason was captivated the first time he’d seen it. The image wasn’t anything special, just four white men standing in place dressed in suits. Jason’s grandfather was the second from the left. An unassuming man in a suit. He wasn’t who captured Jason’s attention. It was the man at the far right. The tall, built man with the cheekbones and mouth who had captured his attention. His imagination. His daydreams and, as a boy, wet dreams. Now, here he sat, bigger than life.

“I wanted to know who the men were,” Jason finally said. “So, I did research. And the more I dug, the more I wanted to know. It took me about ten years, but I found all the pictures and now here you are. In the flesh.”

Kael smiled. “Here I am. And you’re curious?”


“No one will believe anything I tell you.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about anyone else.”

Kael leaned forward and grasped Jason’s wrists in his hands. “There are things in this world that you’re safer not knowing. Though, since you made it this far, I can assume you won’t stop.”

Jason didn’t say anything, but just watched Kael and waited. He had to know.

Finally, Kael nodded. “For millennium, evil has tried to gain an advantage on this planet. It wants humans, needs humans. And, for millennium, those of us who oppose the dark fight. Not all the time. In fact, the last major battle was perhaps four or five thousand years ago. After that have been skirmishes, but nothing major. That’s changed. Evil is rising.”

“That still doesn’t explain the pictures. You.”

Kael nodded. “Yes, it does. I’m a vampire and I have lived for thousands of years fighting the dark.” Saying this, the man opened his mouth and his incisors grew into fangs. Jason blinked his eyes and tried to pull away, but Kael held him.

“Evil is coming Jason. My sire is rising and all I can think about is how delicious you smell. And how very much I want to drink from your vein and fuck you.”


Bronwyn     Jessica    Kris    Siobhan


August Apocalypse


Destroyed tenement house

Welcome to September’s photo prompt. Hopefully, you’ll like the very short piece I wrote for the above image. It was literally the first idea that popped into my head so I went with it.


Dark clouds hung low as a haze blanketed the area. Crumbling buildings and abandoned cars were all she could see. She wasn’t sure what had caused the devastation, but she knew she wasn’t safe. She eased out from the shattered window of a diner and searched the area. They were coming. She knew that. They always came and when they did she would run. Damn, she was so sick of running. Over and over. Maybe this time everything would be right then she could rest. She hoped so.

Seeing movement, she darted from her hiding place and ran down the dust strewn street. They were coming and they were fast. Hideous shambling caricatures of people who should be dead, but weren’t. They never were, not in this place.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw one gaining and screamed. And screaming she began to weep.

“Please, please,” she yelled as she tripped over nothing.

She rolled to her back as the first zombie was on her. She kicked out, just catching him on the shin. Instead of staggering back, he screamed and clutched his leg, falling to the ground.

What the fuck!

“Cut!” a voice yelled out.

Kelly rolled her eyes, as the director rushed across the fake street, in the fake burned out city.

“What the hell is your problem?” he yelled at the zombie.

“She kicked me.”

“I didn’t kick him that hard,” she said, scrambling up off the ground. “Fuck, I barely touched him. He acts like I broke his leg.”

“Reset,” the director yelled then turned to the sobbing zombie. “We’re on take fifteen and you can’t even run down the street. What is your problem.”

As the two began to argue, Kelly moved to the side and grabbed a water. It was going to be a very long day.


Now go see how Bronwyn, Jessica, Siobhan, and Kris handled the picture.

Promptly Penned – August 2018 Edition


Last month I wrote a short piece about Shay and Josie. This month I decided to use them again since the prompt is so awesome and totally reminds me of the two women. Hope you enjoy it. Oh and the prompt is in bold in the flash.


Shay limped through the darkened woods as she picked leaves out of her hair. The week had gone from shit to totally fucked up. Check out fake haunted house, no problem. Instead, the home owners hadn’t waited for them to show up and had employed a “ghost hunting” team. Dumb fucks. All of them. The home owners for not waiting and the Ghost Dusters or whatever they called themselves for somehow opening a portal into another dimension. A dimension with demons. Demons who had come right on in, slaughtered everyone in the house, and left.

Fuck. The agency had scrambled the major teams, but Shay knew it wasn’t going to do any good. The demons were strong, far stronger than anything they had faced before. And, now, for some reason, humans were helping the demons. Double fuck.

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Josie said, “You know you should be a little more thankful. I saved your life back there.”

Shay stopped and stared at her best friend “You pushed me off a cliff.”

“Don’t be a baby. It was just a little cliff.”

She rolled her eyes ad started walking again. Josie jogged to keep up with her.

“Why would humans help those things?”

Shay shrugged. “Why do humans do anything? Most of them are self-centered fuck heads who only care about themselves. They think they’re special. I’m sure the demons promised them all kinds of stuff.”

“Now what? We both know nothing we or anyone else does is going to stop this. We’re just not strong enough.”

“Obviously, since I didn’t fly when you shoved me off a cliff.”

“Oh my gosh, are you going to keep harping on that.”

Shay thought for a long moment. “Yes, I believe I am. Or, at least, until I can shove you off a cliff.”

“Quit being a baby. This is serious.”

“So is me dying from a fall from a cliff.”

The two women walked in silence as the sun began to set. The trees threw odd shadows around them and it took everything in Shay to stop a shiver. There was nothing out there. Both of their senses as well as Josie’s gadgets would have sounded an alarm. Still she was afraid and it wasn’t a feeling she was used to. They’d never come across something they couldn’t handle. This time, though, this time it was so far beyond their pay grade it wasn’t funny.

“We need help,” Shay said.

“Dude, two demons devoured the top team at the agency. We don’t have anyone to call. Unless you know Aquaman and Batman personally. And if you do, I call Jason Momoa.”

“In your dreams, Jason Momoa is mine. You owe me for throwing me off a cliff.”

“I did not throw you, drama queen, I gave you a small push. To save your stupid life. Next time I won’t bother.”

“Yes, you will, you love me, I’m your best friend.”

“So, who’s helping us?” Josie prompted.

“I’m not sure. We need to send out a calling and hope we get an answer.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Shay stopped and stared at the woman who was closer than a sister. They shared everything with each other, everything but Shay’s family.

“I come from an unbroken line of powerful witches. I can trace my ancestors back to the Picts in Scotland.”

Josie stared at her for a long moment and burst into laughter. “Oh my gosh, you almost had me. Powerful witches. Yeah, so who, Samantha Stevens? Can you fly on a broom?”

Shay placed her hands on her hips and stared at her best friend. Stared until Josie stopped laughing. Stared until Josie looked away.

“You’re serious?”

Shay nodded. “And this is why I never told you. There was no point. My family is gone. I’m the last of the line. My mother died before fully training me. But, right now, I can’t think of anything else.”

Josie nodded. “Okay, so what do we do?”

Now go and check out my friend Bronwyn‘s flash.



Promptly Penned July 2018


Welcome to July’s promptly penned. The prompt is in bold in the flash below. Hope you enjoy!


Shay cross her arms as Jeffery carefully explained their assignment. Yeah, her team was new, but no matter how many ten dollars words Jeffery tossed around the whole thing sounded like scutwork.

“So, let me get this straight,” Shay interrupted, “the upper level’s big thought on this is ‘the best of the best weren’t available . . .  so we got the best of the mediocre.’ The mediocre being us?”

“No, no, no,” Jeffery said.

“There were one too many no’s in there,” Shay replied.

“Look, this came down from the director . . .”

Shay almost rolled her eyes. Yep, first he tried to placate then jumped directly to an attempt at being assertive. Too bad it never worked, especially with her.

“I’m out of here.”

Shay shoved off the desk and moved to the door. Bless his heart, Jeffery jumped in front of her and held one hand out like he was a cop directing traffic. He blinked rapidly behind his glasses as she fixed her gaze on him and began to stare. And stare. And stare. He looked away and she had to stop herself from smirking. Yes, she was a bitch sometimes, but she liked it that way.

“Just check it out,” Jeffery pleaded, holding a piece of paper out to her. “Please.”

Shay snatched the paper out of his hand and left the office. Yes, it was scutwork, but she’d take it. Better than the alternative. If they found out about her power surge . . . better not to think about it. They won’t find out, she promised herself. She knew what happened to people with gifts. They were used up until they were nothing but shattered people who sat and screamed and screamed. That was not going to be her.

Shay motioned for Josie to follow her as she left the building. The two women crossed the parking lot and climbed into the vehicle. Josie pulled a device from her pocket and switched it on. Red lights flashed briefly before going green. They were clear.

“What’s going on?” Josie asked, tucking the scanner away in a pocket. If surveillance was in place, it wasn’t any longer. The device Josie created made sure of it.

“Jeffery wants us to check out this house over on Collins. The owners said they heard noises.”


“Yeah, you know rustling in the walls.”

“Oh, you mean mice?”

Shay laughed. “Either that or something is majorly wrong with the electrical. Mice or electrical doesn’t matter.”

“How did it come in?”

“Some friend of the director bought a house and heard noises. Ergo, the house is haunted.”

Josie shook her head. “And we were given the assignment because . . .?”

“We’re the best of the mediocre.”

“I can live with that. Live. See what I did there? Better to visit the fake haunts and collect a paycheck than roll with the big units.”

Shay nodded. The people with talent collected huge paychecks but didn’t usually last more than five years. Tops. Then they were quietly shuffled off to the care facilities the department kept on the downlow. Once there, if it was determined the person was damaged beyond repair the man or woman went quietly to sleep never to wake again. Not something Shay wanted for herself.

“Okay, so once we check on the mice, we should knock off for the day and go to dinner.” Shay pulled out her phone and began to type. “There’s a new Thai place I wanted to try.”

Shay pulled up in front of a house and checked the paper. Yep, right address. The place was nice. Huge two-story brick with lots of windows and a pretty price tag. She bet it had to run close to a million five easy.

Josie whistled. “Damn this place is nice. Too bad it has an electrical rodent problem. Or the pipes shake or a million other issues the builders skimped on.”

Shay climbed out of the car and the two women moved to the front door. She rang the bell and when that didn’t bring anyone, knocked loudly.

“We came all this way and no one is home?” Josie moved to peek through the small windows flanking the door.

“Jeffery told me the home owners were going to meet us.”

Shay stepped off the porch and moved across the yard to circle the house. Maybe the owners were waiting in the backyard. Glancing over the fence she found it empty.

“Cool,” Josie said, “we can head to dinner now.”

Shay ran her fingers through her hair. She so wanted to agree with her friend, but decided they had to do their due diligence. Opening the gate, she moved to the back door and looked through the window. She could see a gorgeous kitchen, but no movement. Knocking on the door, she waited a moment.

“We’re not leaving, are we?”

“Not yet,” Shay said, “we need to check the house. Then if we don’t find anything we call it in and leave.”

She placed her hand on the door knob and gave a small push with her mind. The door unlocked and she stepped in. The sound of rushing air greeted them. It didn’t sound like an AC unit though, more like an industrial fan cranked up to high. Shay looked over at her friend and found her just as confused.

Cautiously, she exited the kitchen into a huge foyer with stairs that curved up to the right. The noise sounded as though it was coming from a room to the left with doors partially closed. Josie pulled another device from her many pockets and began to scan. Lights flashed like crazy as Josie punched buttons. Finally, she looked up at Shay and mouthed not mice.

Taking a breath, Shay shoved the doors of the room open and stared. Furniture swirled in the air as the whooshing noise got louder. Two people, at least Shay thought it was only two, since they were only body parts, were plastered against the walls that rippled and pulsed. Where the ceiling should be was a huge black hole that reminded Shay of what she thought the inside of a tornado would look like. Yep, this was not mice. Not even close.

The mediocre just became the A team.


Bronwyn     Siobhan

June 2018 Photo Flash Fiction


Welcome to June!! The year is half way over already. Jeez louise, it’s crazy how the time is flying by. So, as it is the first Monday of June we have a new flash fiction piece based on a photo. Here’s the photo:

Country Glamor

I love this picture so much and, in fact, it reminds me of a friend of mine. I hope that all of you like the flash:

The Photograph

Jenna nervously entered the large gallery space and slowly scanned the crowd. The large crowd. She didn’t understand why so many people were there for a student art show. Her stomach did a flip and she breathed deep trying to calm her nerves. The stress was stupid, really, it wasn’t like her entire livelihood depended on the show. Hell, it was for a class. That was it. And yet she couldn’t convince her stomach of that.

Signing up for the class had really been a spur of the moment decision. The class she wanted to take was filled and she had to have three more credit hours to ensure she graduated in the spring. Tossing caution to the wind, she’d registered for the introduction to photography class. How hard could it be? Take some pictures, go to class, and voilà she’d be closer to graduation. She hadn’t counted on the original professor taking ill and the university bringing in a celebrated artist, Cherie Madison. Even Jenna had known who she was, and she knew nothing about art.

What she thought of as an easy grade, had become work. Hard work. She’d actually considered dropping but knew she couldn’t. She wouldn’t get her money back and she wouldn’t graduate. So, she’d stuck it out and found that she actually enjoyed it. Oh, she had no misguided thoughts that the class made her any kind of professional, but she learned that taking a picture was harder than anyone imagined.

Their final project had been a self-portrait. How easy. People took selfies all the time. Not Jenna. She hated having her picture taken. In fact, once she’d been out of elementary school, she’d refused to have any more class pictures taken. Her parents had cajoled, threatened, and begged, but Jenna had stood firm. She hated how she looked in or out of pictures and, yet, she had to take one for her final grade.

Cherie had told them the picture must be a reflection of who they really were. The image must show the truth of their soul. Jenna figured the only way she could do that is if she turned in a blurry image since she constantly dodged when a camera came out. She’d gotten extremely good at knowing where the camera was and disappearing. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option for the class.

Jenna slowly made her way into gallery and eased along the wall. The first image she came too made her stomach flip and she felt as if she wanted to hurl. The picture was black and white and showed a girl artfully arranged on the floor. Her hair spread out around her and her nakedness was barely covered with a thin piece of material. Shit, this was so far away from what Jenna had done it wasn’t funny.

Okay, she told herself, no big deal. The girl in the picture imagined herself as some kind of bohemian avant-garde artist. Of course, her picture would be moody and black and white. No big deal. And, yet, the farther Jenna moved into the space the more black and white moody pictures she saw. Her classmates had used filters and photo effects that looked as though they should be in some kind of art book and not hanging in a student art exhibit.

By the time, she rounded the corner to her own work, Jenna was close to tears. Her piece was nothing at all like the others. The picture she had turned in was in color. She’d worn her favorite white sundress. The one that she didn’t dare wear out in public, since it was cut pretty low in the front. She’d found a wide brown belt to try to accent her waist and had worn knee high, lace up brown boots. Then she’d gone out to her grandparent’s farm.

There was no weird lighting or effects. Oh, hell no, she’d just set up the camera on a tri-pod and taken shots of herself around the farm. The picture she’d chosen to turn in had been one that she’d taken as a joke. She’d leaned against a fence with one arm outstretched and the other against the back of her neck. She’d thought of it as a goddess pose. Her eyes closed and face turned to the side. She imagined she looked sexy as hell, especially after a few glasses of wine.

Riding high on the feeling, she’d turned that shot in. Now, looking at it stone cold sober she wished she could shrivel up. The girl in the image wasn’t a goddess. She was an overweight girl flopped against a fence. Jenna wanted to turn and run, but her feet stayed rooted to the spot. She now understood how someone could be paralyzed with fear.

A person stepped up next to her and it took effort for her to turn her head. Cherie Madison smiled and put her arm around Jenna’s shoulders.

“I was terrified at my first show too,” the woman said.

Jenna couldn’t answer. She had nothing to say. Not even if someone paid her money could she have formed a coherent sentence.

“I love your piece.”

Jenna stared at her and turned back to the image.

“Why?” she blurted out. “It’s not . . .” she trailed away.

“Like everyone else’s?” Cherie asked. “Jenna who said the photos had to look alike? Who said they had to be arty? I know I didn’t. My request of you all was to take a picture that reflected your true self. You did that. You were the only one who did that.”

“I don’t understand,” Jenna said, finally able to come up with a coherent sentence.

“I highly doubt the images your classmates turned in reflected anything about themselves. It may show how they want to be seen. Or how they imagine they are. But not who they really are. This picture is you. It’s beautiful and fun and vibrant.”

Jenna turned back to the picture and really looked at it. She forced herself to forget how much she hated having her own picture taken. She shoved aside the constant thoughts that entered her head every time she looked at herself in the mirror. Instead, she concentrated on what had made her turn the photo in to begin with.

“Do you see?” Cherie asked.

Jenna slowly nodded her head and whispered. “I imagined myself as a goddess.”

“I can see it. You did an amazing job.”

For the first time that evening, Jenna smiled. “Yeah, I did.”


Bronwyn     Siobhan