Published Update Marco Polo 100 X 100

This entry started as a contest for the now defunct 100 words or fewer. And then it became another case of when losers become winners.

I resubmitted a slightly modified version and made it to Marco Polo Online Literary Arts Magazine

See it here:

On the Premises Mini 19 Results

Fun little contest - Take a boring sentence and spice it up with language that says the same thing, but in a creative way.  The top entries are really well deserving in my opinion.  Check 'em out. 

http://onthepremises.com/minis/mini_19.html

My entry was:

The smell was unpleasant.
The air flopped on our noses like a sweat soaked sumo wrestler snacking on spoiled sushi.

Year End Review 2012

I had a lot of fun this year entering various competitions and I know I grew a lot as a writer. To recap:

• I came up just short of 52 contest entries (counting over half from the Writer's Digest Poetic Asides Poem A Day Challenge)
• Just over half of my prose entries were flash fiction.
• I tried eleven different contest sponsors: Midway Literary Journal, The First Line, Switchback, Creative Competitor, Fan Story, Writer's Digest, 100 Words or Fewer, On the Premises, Writer's Weekly,  Kazka Press, and finally I'm submitting to Writer's Village and the Society of Actuaries Speculative Fiction contest.
• I haven't won any major contests, just a minor headline contest.  My prize was a nice resource for writers. However...
• I had a couple journals accept my work for publication: The Binnacle accepted The Butler's Waltz, Marco Polo accepted The Open Box, From The Depths accepted a 13 word horror story, and Underwater New York accepted a handful of flashes.
• Finally I wrote a bunch of articles I'm very proud of and I hope you find them useful.

My favorite contest sponsor this year is Writer's Weekly.  They offer a seasonal contest where writers have 24 hours to bang out a short story.  They limit the number of entries to 500 writers.  Lastly, there are tons of prizes.

My favorite piece of writing this year was: The Intricacies of Cherry Cola.  And while it might not be a winner (yet), I've revised it once and I look forward to revising it again for future competitions.

On top of the work on the blog an with contest entries, I've finished the first draft of my first novel and that feels good from a personal perspective.

Hopefully you had just as fruitful of a year and will have an even better one in 2013.  I know I'm looking forward to it.  On New Year's I'll be posting my goals for writing competitions and we'll see how it all shakes out.

Published Work! From the Depths 13 word story

A 13 word story by yours truly can now be found in the latest issue (Free!) of From the Depths by Haunted Water Press.

Page 42 has me listed among other 13 word horror stories

Some great reads in this journal for this spooky time of year.

America's Next Author

Just had a new contest pop up on my radar screen.

Are you America's Next Author?

If you already have an online presence this is probably a great venue for you to get some extra publicity.

http://www.ebookmall.com/americasnextauthor

Submissions are due October 9th for short stories between 2,500 and 5,000 words.

First will be the "Nomination Round" where reviews, ratings, and social network buzz contribute toward a nomination.   There will also be 4 wildcards as determined by a panel of judges.

Then the Battle Round begins for the best 8 nominations and 4 wildcards.

The top 3 survivors proceed to the Jury Round where the winner will be named.

Free to enter, good luck!

SwitchBack Contest - Video Games

This is a prompt based monthly contest with no entry fee.  Generally I find that the winning entries are more artistic in nature.  Blends between poetry and prose.

He was the latest prompt:

No one really knows the ones they love. If you knew everything they thought, I bet that you'd wish that they'd just shut up.


Kind of a downer of a prompt.  I immediate thought of a song called Video Games by Lana Del Rey

Here's the winner - Jaylee Alde, The Run of Us

Below is my entry, I might have gone a little too abstract, but who knows?  

"Why I’d Much Rather Play Video Games than Go to Bed with You"

  Because I am crooked where I am supposed to be straight.

And wives should submit to their husbands.

Because I am almost to the point where my centaur is going to get the Blade of Oldirin and then I can free the mage’s apprentice from the Beast of Nimroth and that means I’ll get another treasure chest. Most importantly you don’t know what any of that means. You know what those things may be, but you don’t know what they mean.

The casserole you made tasted like newspaper advertisements.

Although, it’s nice to see your domestic side. It turns me on. A little.

If we turn off the lights I won’t have to see the tattoo with his name.

I’ll press pause.

Creative Competitor - 500 word contest

Here's the winner 

We had to write 500 words on the picture below. 

My take is a time travel/Wizard of Oz combo. If I do it over, I think I'd use actual names instead of labels.

The Time Wizard

I tossed a head of cabbage into the grinder.

 “Gentlemen, a thousand bucks will get you fifteen minutes each. That’s all the time you have to change the past.   When your time’s up, you’ll end up back here.   Did everyone sign the waivers?”

They all nodded.  I double checked the extension cord.

“Who’s first?”

Con Man rose from the sofa and stepped into the tub.  As I secured the bicycle helmet, I enquired about the purpose of his trip.

 “I want Dorothy.  The sympathy approach failed. Apparently, when I claimed losing my grandmother to a tornado, I hit a sore spot.   I’m going to try another angle.”

I made some notes, then flipped the switch.  The generator hummed. Lights flickered.  Then ‘baraap,’ Con Man vanished.   I don’t know why time travel evokes a gastrointestinal response, maybe it’s the cabbage.   Not wanting to disappoint my clients, I started setting up the next trip.

I just snapped the straps onto Suit Coat when Con Man came back.  He plopped onto the couch with tears in his eyes.

 “I couldn’t do it. She’s too innocent, too perfect. I just didn’t have the heart.”

Suit Coat scoffed.

“Idiot.  She out-conned you.  This girl is definitely not innocent.  You need brains to play this right.”

 “Well, braniac, if you’re so smart, then why aren’t you with her?”

“A worthy advisory never accepts the first offer. A few gold bricks didn’t impress her, but a road paved with them might. “

I flipped the switch for round two.  Humming. Flickering.  ‘Baraap’.  One left.  Moron twitched in the chair.

“Does this cause cancer?  How do I know I’ll end up in the right spot?  What if I land in dinosaur times?”

“It’s safe.”  Another cabbage turned to green confetti.  The incessant questioning challenged my focus.   I thought something exploded when Suit Coat returned.  He started unleashing his rage on my equipment.

“You break it, you buy it!”

That caught his attention. Moron snickered.

“Can it!” Cracked Suit Coat.  “At least we had the courage to ask her out.”

The poor soul never had a chance to defend himself.  The ‘baraaap’ echoed as he catapulted to that moment in time when he could have made his move on Dorothy.

Fifteen minutes went by and he never returned.  Maybe all his fidgeting jostled something loose.   I sent the other two gentlemen on their way.  When they were gone, I tried to contemplate what went wrong.

A knock on the door interrupted my thinking.  I opened the door to find a disheveled young woman, her hampered appearance offset by defiant red shoes.  I didn’t need to know her name.

“I hear you’re the time wizard.  I need to go back to before I met my husband.  He’s an animal.”

I went to the fridge for some cabbage, happy to have my answer.  Time is a fickle thing.

“That will be three hundred dollars.”

Published Pieces for Underwater New York Flash Fiction

I had some pieces published online feel free to check them out.  These were written in response to a call for submissions from Underwater NY.  They try to pair writing with a photo/description of a random object that was discovered near a body of water.  All my entries were accepted, which is kind of neat (but also a little disheartening because I wonder if they actually rejected anything).  My favorite entry was the lottery ticket one.

The following items made it:
Item: A wounded seal named Gowanda
Story: Gowanda's Sacrifice - a request made to a magic seal

Item: Silicone Breasts
Story: Way To Freedom - a woman seeks redemption


Item: Doll Heads
Story: Of Dreams And Dolls - s story in three short scenes

Item: A bag of lottery tickets
Story: The Wrong Numbers  - reflections on a relationship that didn't work out.

Item: An 1897 Pocket Watch
Story: Waiting

FanStory.com - Flash Fiction Contest - Lost Love

The winner of this writing contest had a very humorous piece about a ghost detective.  Although, he didn't really display any detective prowess.  And the humor, while good, was a bit distracting.  Judges liked it though, probably because it stood out being a lighter piece in a potentially sad theme of "lost love".

Here's my entry.  My story is a take on someone caught in love with two others and having to make a choice.  What's interesting to me is that some of the other pieces earning recognition ended up with "found" loves, whereas I ended with a lost love.

By the way - I haven't posted other entries from April yet because I am still waiting to hear on results.

100 Words or Fewer Contest 9

I entered this writing contest because I am starting to love short/flash fiction. My plan was to check out their evaluation services on the next iteration.  Unfortunately, they are ending the contest with number ten. I'll have to look for another contest to evaluate then.

There were two theme options for this writing contest - "Eating" or "Uncommon Character"  - I chose eating.  Here is my submission.  Here are the winners.

Tiffany is a tear soaked cacophony of moans, sniffles, and broken breaths.

A box of chocolates lies exposed on the table.

Dana’s in spasms on the floor, as she fails to hold back a tsunami of laughter.

The gold leaf script reads Chocolat Émotionnel.   

Drama unfolds on my tongue. Coconut is caught in a love triangle between bitter and sweet.

 “You ate apathy!”  Tiffany wails, interrupting my mastication. Dana erupts into a fit of chortles and wets her pants.

 I could try to alleviate the plights of my friends, but I don’t really care.

On the Premesis Contest 16

The theme was home:

http://www.onthepremises.com/issue_16/contents_16.html 

Here's the winner (A well-deserved win, great story!): A league of pity

My story went to the dark side.   I as I alluded in my lessons learned post, the editors liked the story, but had a couple main issues with it.  When I get the time, I'll try to incorporate their suggestions and dust it off.  In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think!
*******************************
"Confessions of a Homewrecker"

The thought buzzed in my head like a parched mosquito.  While the kids shrieked as they passed through the sprinkler’s icy fingers and the adults chomped on scorched hotdogs and sipped margaritas, I was trying not to think about sleeping with my sister’s husband.

Normally, when I feel the impulse to pursue a man, nothing holds me back. I only hesitated because of Lucy. I took my sister out for a celebratory drink the day she fell in love.  I walked her down the aisle.  I sat with her on the bathroom floor when the blue line showed up on the first pregnancy test.   For her part, she listened to my irrational rants, served as personal taxi service on more than one occasion, and had a knack for knowing when I needed a freshly baked brownie.  After a litany of rationalizations, I still couldn’t shake the pesky thought, so I caved, consequences be damned.   After all, I can’t deny what I am.

I first recognized my “talents” in high school. Danny Lambert and Lisa Pearlman were the stereotypical sweethearts.  Danny, as fate would have it, lived next to me and had a car, so he took me home from school each day.  One ride home, he confessed he had a thing for me.  We ended up fooling around in his room under his Guns ‘n Roses poster.   It didn’t take long for little Lisa to catch wind of her sweetie’s adultery and I don’t think either of them found a date to prom.

When the whole incident ended, I did not feel remorseful, guilty, or ashamed about what I did.  Instead, it thrilled me.   The excitement I felt as Danny-boy pawed my breasts was trivial compared to the pleasure of knowing that I turned Danny and Lisa’s world upside down.  The secrecy and the scandal combined into a rapturous high I completely submitted to.

I lost the ability to enjoy casual dating.  It was like hopping on bicycle after screaming down the highway on a Harley. I became a predator, constantly scanning for my next victim. I successfully ruined a dozen more relationships during the rest of high school.  In college, I found out that the stereotypes really were true, older professors were horny perverts.  With each conquest, I honed my skills.   One of my favorite fiascos didn’t even require physical contact.

I was checking the mail, and the postman was still there.   We got to chatting and I found out his name was Larry and some other mundane nuances about his life.   He made some flirtatious comment about how my shirt brought out the color in my eyes.  I told him he should see me with my shirt off.  This caused him to blush and he started to leave, but I smelled blood.  Before he went, I asked him to think about me the next time he slept with his wife.

About a week later I saw a mail truck in my driveway, but Larry wasn’t in it, it was some old guy.  I inquired about Larry and he shook his head as he told me that Larry’s wife made him drop this route, but even after that she couldn’t trust him and they are getting divorced.   My fingers still tingle when I think about it.

The next time I felt that tingle was the following summer, in the backyard of my sister’s house, as I set my sights on Jeremy, her husband.   

My first attempt transpired during a game after Thanksgiving dinner.  Lucy had to tend to the newborn, leaving Jeremy at my disposal.  I put on a little drunk and ditzy act as an excuse to snuggle up to him, sit on his lap, and smack his ass when we scored a point.  I slowly slid my hand inside his thigh, but that was too much.  He shot out of the chair and explained that he wanted to see if Lucy needed help with the baby. He came back with a cup of coffee to ‘keep me from doing something foolish.’

After that night, I had a new respect for Jeremy.   He wasn’t like my usual victims; castrated husbands who find it way too easy to let their eyes wander while they’re being dragged through the mall.   That evening taught me a valuable lesson.   If I was to be successful, I had to elevate my game and cloak my predation so it is untraceable. 

 I needed a way to study my target, to infiltrate his intimate moments, to know what really made him tick.  I needed a way to live in his house.   Luckily, I was in the middle of another plot involving a sexual harassment suit against my boss.  A quick change of tactic, and I had my way in.  I called human resources and admitted that my allegations were complete fabrications of a personal vendetta.  They were forced to let me go.  I called my sister to let her know I was out of a job, obviously omitting certain details.  In my most desperate voice, I pleaded with her to take me in until I could get back on my feet again.  In return for her hospitality, I promised to take care of the kids and help around the house.  She eagerly accepted.

Over the next months, I did not make a single advance on Jeremy.  I just did exactly what I told Lucy I would.   I tolerated the little gremlins and washed their soiled underwear.  The whole time I looked for vulnerabilities in the fortress of my sister’s home.

One night at dinner, one of the kids set me up perfectly.  She asked me if not being married made me lonely. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jeremy stop eating and focus his attention on me.  I replied in a hushed voice, making note as he leaned forward to listen, that indeed I really was lonely and that I hoped I could find someone someday.  I lifted my eyes toward Jeremy, concern tightened his face.  I held his rapt attention for a quiet moment until he cleared his throat and made some cliché comment about fishing in the ocean.  The metaphor was appropriate because I finally found my bait.

The next morning, I wrote a note and slipped it in his briefcase, inviting him to a confidential conversation over his lunch break.  I told him to meet me in the park near his office.

He showed up shortly after eleven.  It was a warm spring day and the park bustled.  As we walked, I confessed to him that since I moved in I had been envious of my sister.  She had it all: the family, the house, and most of all a perfect husband.  I told him that all I wanted was just to live her life for one day.   I started the tears as I brought up the fact that because of this, I had to leave.  It was just too agonizing to be part of a home I’d never have.   He responded as I expected he would, with comforting words about how I was perfectly capable of having that type of life, that it wasn’t too late, and that there were other guys better than him out there for me.

I took a shaky breath and gave him a little smile as I asked him for a hug.  I dug my fingers into his shoulders as his warm arms enveloped me.  My head rested on his chest and he brought his hand up to pet my hair.  I let my head tilt back with his soft stroke.  He looked down at me and I slipped my hands around his head and brought him into my awaiting lips.   He didn’t fight it.  He accepted it.  I didn’t want to push it, so I pulled away biting my lower lip.  I mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and turned away.  As I left the park, I glanced back to see him sitting on a bench with his face buried in his hands.

I moved out the following week.  At my request, Jeremy helped me move my furniture, hauling things up the apartment stairs. When we finished, I offered him a relaxing shoulder rub.  I asked him to remove his shirt so I could get deeper into the muscle tissue.  My hands lingered on his bare back for a while, then proceeded to wander to his chest, along his abs, and proceeded to creep lower and lower.  He stopped me at his waistline.   I saw the confusion in his eyes.   It was so titillating to watch him attempt to fight the swelling desire.  He left without saying anything.

I didn’t hear from him for a couple weeks.  The situation was at its most precarious moment, and I had to let it develop at its own pace.  The slightest misstep would ruin everything.  He called me with a notable quiver in his voice.  He wanted to come over.  He wanted to talk.

            I poured him a scotch and we sat on the corduroy sofa in the center of the apartment.   I agreed with him that what we felt was wrong, and that it was definitely inappropriate to act on it. I told him how much I respected the love he had for his family.   I didn’t want to jeopardize that, but I couldn’t deny my feelings either.  If he didn’t want to, we didn’t have to.  If he did, I assured him that I’d be able to keep a secret.  No one would have to know.   We sat in silence.  The room was heavy with his conscience.  Finally he looked at me with his gorgeous wet eyes.  He nodded his head and I started to undress.

            He was gone when I woke up the next morning.  He probably never slept.  I rolled over, smiling at the memories of the emotion, the lust, and the whole primal ecstasy of it all.  The thoughts warmed me, but they were mere foreplay.  I went to my phone and fired out a text to Lucy, inviting her for a night out with just us girls.

            Lucy met me at a café a week later, and we shared a bottle of wine.  We laughed as we talked about our childhood memories. But the conversation was a little forced, and since she was my sister, Lucy knew something was not quite right.   

“Spill it sis, what’s up?”

“Lucy, I’m just going to come clean.  I had an affair with Jeremy.  It was my fault, I seduced him.  I’m so sorry.”

The words hung in the air while Lucy swirled the cabernet, brought her wine glass to her lips, and slowly swallowed the news. There were no other sounds as she just stared at the table for a few moments.  My insides buzzed with the anticipation of her reaction, her sadness, her rage, her disbelief.  Everything hung on his moment.

“Thank you.”  She looked up at me, her mouth in a thin grin. 

What was this?  Where were the tears, the shaking hands, the screams of agony?  Thank you?   It made no sense.

“Excuse me?” 

“Thank you for freeing me.”  Lucy reached across the table for my hand. “My God sis, I can’t tell you how boring it’s been lately.  I love the kids, but Jeremy is just so dang predictable, so routine, so dull.  I’ve been trying to find a way out for some time.   I even told Jeremy that I wasn’t interested him anymore, but he said he’d never give up on us, that even if I held a gun to his head he would never sign a divorce paper.  In his mind, there’s nothing we couldn’t work through.”

I sat there wanting to say something, but couldn’t even open my mouth.

“Do you remember Thanksgiving?  I saw you flirting with Jeremy, and I thought there might actually be a glimmer of hope.  I know your past, and I thought if anyone could make him unfaithful, it would be you.   Even though he shot you down that night, I kept trying to find a way to get you and him together.  Then you called me and needed a place to stay, and I couldn’t believe my luck.   I was cold to Jeremy             the entire time, hoping he’d look elsewhere for consolation.  When you moved out, I thought for sure I was stuck, that I’d never be able to shake this guy.   When he came home last week, all frazzled and weepy, I almost started dancing.  It’s finally done.  We signed the papers last night.”

I sat there falling through a kaleidoscope of emotion as I stared at my sister.  At first her disclosure shocked me, I had no idea she felt that way.  Then I felt pangs of anger, I had just been a tool, a means to her end, which meant that she stole the collapse of the relationship from me.  But the thing that crept through it all was a new feeling of warmth.  I felt closer to my sister than ever before.

“Lucy, I had no idea.  Quite frankly, I’m impressed. ”

“I can’t take all the credit.” She winked at me.

“Now what?”  I asked.

“I assume Jeremy will be down for a bit, but I believe he will recover.  After all, he will still get to see the kids.  As for me, well, I’ve been chatting online with a divorced guy name Larry, he used to be a postman, but drives limos now. He’s just looking to be part of a family again. I figure he can be part of ours, at least for a little while.” 

“Larry the ex-postman?”   I refilled her wine glass. “Sis, I’ve got a story to tell you, you’ll love it.” 

Writer's Weekly Winter 24 hour contest - A perch, a prayer and a polar plunge

As I compete in various writing contests this year, there will be a natural lag due to waiting for results.  Since entries are often required to be unpublished, I prefer to play it safe and wait until after results are posted.

This is a 24 hour contest.  I like these because it levels the playing field a little bit.

I really enjoyed writing the story I entered.  So, it was hard to not see my name in the winners circle, or even an honorable mention.  I didn't even get a door prize for crying out loud!  It's tough not to win.  Especially when you know your story is well crafted.  The only thing I can think of is that it maybe was not as original as some of the winners, and perhaps there just wasn't enough POW.  It's a nice story of a father and daughter, but the 'so what' factor may be a little light.

Regargless, I hope you enjoy the story below.  Tell me what you think.  Then check out the winners.

TOPIC OF THIS CONTEST WAS:

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...

*****************

A PRAYER, A PERCH, AND A POLAR PLUNGE

I have to pee real bad. My toes are frozen. And, I'm bored, wicked bored. I have to tough it out though because it might be the only way to get my daddy back.

He just hasn't been the same guy since mom died. He doesn't talk much. We don't do things together. I had to beg him to take me along today. He'll probably never sweep me in his arms and call me “sugar bear” ever again. Losing mom was hard, wicked hard, but it just isn't fair for daddy to check out too.

A full day on Lake Cedar seemed like it would be a perfect way for us to reconnect. But so far, it's been a total bust.

Despite promising God I'd work harder at school and asking forgiveness for calling Samantha Roberts a cow, I didn't catch the first fish.

"Nice catch daddy!"

"Won’t even make a good appetizer."

We passed most of the rest of the day in silence, staring into green tubes, waiting for those tiny tugs.

I've only caught one fish, but that got me excited, wicked excited, because it was a perch, dad’s favorite.

"A perch!" I boasted.

"Mmmhm"

That was it. My heart flopped like a suffocating fish.

The daylight is starting to fade; I'm running out of time. I think I have to pull out the big guns.

"Dad, did you ever take mom ice fishing?"

"For God’s sakes Mandy, put a lid on it, you'll scare all the fish."

"I don't care about these stupid fish! I think I have frostbite on my toes and my bladder is going to explode."

He stares at me for a few moments.

"Grab your things and head to the truck."

I storm out and trudge across the ice, tears boiling in the corner of my eyes. The ice moans as if it's my very soul. Then it cracks right beneath my feet. I fall to my knees. I scream. The ice crumbles and the cold water punches me in the gut and I can't breathe. I try to swim but all the clothes make my arms heavy and awkward.  I feel something grab me and pull me back onto the ice. It's dad. He scoops me in his arms and races to the truck. He cranks the heat as he peels the wet clothes from my body. I feel the warmth of his bare chest against my shivering body.

"Warm up, damn it." He slams his fist on the dash. He must hate me right now.

"S-s-sorry I ruined the fishing t-trip."

"No baby, you didn't. Don't worry, sugar bear, it's going to be okay."

I can't help it. I start crying. Dad's crying too. Despite being colder than I've ever been and a touch embarrassed to be naked with my dad, for the first time in a long time I feel awesome, wicked awesome.

Kazka Press 713 Word Flash -January

The image above was the inspiration for this contest.  They say pictures are worth 1000 words, well in this case, it's only 713.  I submitted a work that took on the end of the world and human petrification.   The winner will be published on Feb. 1 and I will report back then. Winner is here.  I think I'm on the right track as the submissions was indeed emotional and relatively positive.  I wrote about romance, but my ending was tragic, need to have a positive end!


The Tickling of a Cockroach

Cold needles poked Jesse’s hand as he tried to corral another cockroach, but as he closed his fist he felt a warm sponginess that didn’t belong in the tank.  He looked up to see Eva, and a different set of needles rushed up his arm.  He smiled at her, hoping to convey what his heart felt, that he loved her in ways poets wrote about and that it wasn’t fair to finally find someone when the world was on the brink.

Instead he casually invited her to take a quick break to grab some food.

Jesse gawked at the way Eva held the apple in her hand, the way she closed her eyes as she sank her teeth into its crisp coolness, the way the clear juice trailed down the corner of her mouth.

“What if this is the last apple I ever eat?”  It took a second for Jesse to realize Eva had asked him a question.

“Hey now, you can’t think like that.”

Eva stared at him, her copper eyes glimmering behind oval frames.   He noticed her frizzy hair, her swollen eyelids.  He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, rub her back, and promise here it would all be fine.   She sighed.

“You’re right.  If we concede that it’s over, we might as well not do our research.   We must go on with the faith that we’ll find a solution.  Any progress?”

“Not much.  We’ve achieved exoskeletons on rats and rabbits, but we’re getting mixed results with the chimps.  Our last run was really promising though.  You?”

“We’re at 99% deflection with the latest prototype for up to 6 hours.  Unfortunately, it’s useless.  You can’t move in it. All our designs with joints have areas of vulnerability.”

“You’ll find something.”  He reached out and clasped her hand.

“Thanks Jesse.  Did you hear that that the horticulturists developed underground algae that could be a dietary staple? ”

“Do you think they can make it taste like apples?”

Eva laughed, but the sirens deprived Jesse from hearing her.   Eva, now solemn, squeezed Jesse’s hand.

“No.  It’s too soon.  They said the first rays were at least a year away.  This must be just an alarm.”  Deep down, Jesse felt weight of the truth.  “Here, take these.”

He dropped two capsules in her palm.  Eva shook her head and started to pull away.

“Please, Eva, it could be our only chance.  I love you.  I haven’t been able to tell you, and now seems like the worst time, but you have to know.  I don’t want it all to end without ever having the chance to show you how much you mean to me.  I think there’s a good chance we can survive this, but a world without you is not one I care to live in.  I need to know you’ll be there on the other side.”

For a moment they were alone, the sirens were silent as they held each other’s gazed.  She drew near to him and kissed him. 

“I’ll be there” she whispered before she ran down the hallway.

Somehow in the chaos, Jesse made his way back to the lab.  The others were gathering their things, calling their loved ones, or just aimlessly wandering.  He walked along the animal cages, calming them, saying farewell.   Then the power went out.

It wouldn’t be long. All the hours of testing, the sleepless nights, wouldn’t matter.  Yet, Jesse was quite calm.   He was going to make it, and Eva would be there with him.  He popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed.

 At first it felt like mud underneath his skin, and then he felt his flesh harden.   The aching in his joints was shocking, but he supposed it would make sense that ligaments might be exposed to the metamorphosis.  But, as the solidification plunged deeper into Jesse’s body, into his muscles and bones, he realized how powerless he was.  He hoped Eva never took the pills.

As the sun beats down on a barren planet, a cockroach scuttles across a petrified man.  He can’t feel its feet tickling him anymore.  His blank stare passes over the desolate landscape until it falls on the form of a woman, lying prostrate, her stone hand reaching out for something.

FanStory - FlashFiction Contest - The Missing Ingredient

The theme this time is "Missing." 

Here is my entry

Here is the winner. A Sherlock Holmes inspiration.  Not much else to say, just clever, although in my opinion not a very creative take on the prompt.  "The case of the missing (fill in the blank)" seems too easy to me.

This is my second attempt at this particular theme.  Apparently FanStory will use the same prompts over again.  My first attempt was about a guy who was missing the birth of his first child.  I also wanted to explore diffent connotations of the idea "stuck."

My second attempt as noted in the title takes a cooking angle.  I feel that this theme has been done before - emotional cooks who find comfort in their creations - (Waitress, Simply Irresistable, Like Water for Chocolate) - so I wanted to take another slant at it. 

I went a little darker. I'm beginning to wonder if the tone of a piece affects how it is reviewed.  I'll try putting together some lighter comedies or at least warmer works and see how that goes... 

Being able to resonate with the emotions of a reader is a writers number one job, and sometimes clever and witty just isn't enough.

NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Final Round "The Animal Within"

Challenge was  open/secret hideout/framed newspaper article

Here's my horror story
The Animal Within

Micah stood at the mouth of the cave as the sunset bled over the jagged spruce and boney birch.  He massaged the creases on his wrist and rubbed the scar on his forearm.  He turned inside and checked the bolts that anchored the chains to the cave wall.  He snapped on the shackles and they clicked locked. He sat next to the carcasses and waited.

            The moonlight guided Paul as he clawed his way up the hillside.  He switched the burlap bag from shoulder to shoulder, struggling to manage the burden.  Low growls reached his ears and he knew the hideout was close. 

            Paul made the trip up here every month, since he and Micah were sixteen.  That was the year Micah’s condition appeared.  After a gruesome and bloody night, Paul kept Micah from taking his own life and promised to protect him.  Micah kept a framed newspaper article to remind him of the horror he could unleash. The first night in the cave, Paul did not bring any food and Micah nearly chewed his own arm off trying to break free.  Since then he satiated Micah’s bloodlust with rabbits, stray cats, or whatever could be found on the side of the road.

            Initially, Micah’s savagery repulsed Paul.  With time, the mortification evolved into curiosity, then into fascination, and now was bordering infatuation.  As Paul came around the bend, his eyes widened, delighted by the sight of the gargantuan beast pacing at the caves entrance.

            “Hello friend.  Hungry?”  The chains went taught as Micah lunged at Paul.  “Easy boy.  I have a special treat for you tonight.”

            Paul set the sack in front of Micah, and then quickly retreated.   His voyeuristic pleasure pulsed at the carnage as Micah ravaged the bag.

            Micah awoke in the chilly morning air, refreshed and relieved to have finished another episode.  He looked across the cave and saw Paul sleeping. Paul had left the keys to the shackles for Micah, and Micah freed himself to go search for firewood.   On his way out of the cave, a scrap of yellow fabric caught his eye.   On closer inspection he realized that there were several shreds of similar yellow cloth.  A lone pink ribbon put the horrific picture together, and Micah collapsed with the weight of the discovery.

“Paul!”  The bellow reverberated off the stone walls. Paul jolted awake.  He saw the ribbon in Micah’s quivering hand.

            “You weren’t supposed to know.”

            “Why?  What have you done?  How could you do this to me?”

            “Do what exactly?  I’m letting you be who you really are.  I’m accepting you in a way that no one else can.  You are special Micah.  All of us have darkness in us and you get to experience it unfiltered.  I am giving you freedom.”

            “Freedom?  This is not freedom.  This is Hell. I don’t want to be a monster.”

            “But that’s just it, you are one.  It’s time to embrace it.”

            “No.  I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back.  We need to go to the police.”

            “I can’t let you do that Micah.”  Paul pounced at the chains.  Micah tried to escape, but Paul caught him.   They fell to the floor, trading punches and kicks.  Throughout the scrum Paul cackled in jubilation.

 “Yes!”

 “Let it out”

 “Be free!”

Tears streamed down Micah’s face as he struggled.  “No!”  He cried as he smashed Paul’s head into the ground.  Paul went limp.

When Paul came to, he saw Micah’s penetrating stare.  Paul raised his hand to his throbbing skull and felt the steel tug of the restraints.

“You want to be an animal? So be it.”  Micah tossed a dead squirrel at Paul’s feet and left the cave.  He heard Paul’s howling, but when he looked at the ribbon in his hand he knew he wasn’t coming back.