I see dark shadows watching me all the time out of the corner of my eye; I fear my time is coming to an end soon….Please watch over my cats. ~Somewhere, Somewhere
The washing machine changes gears from one cycle to another. I think a belt must be slipping. But since I need clean pants and shirts for this trip, I ignore my worry. After all, it’s still working even if it’s loud.
The suitcase and bag are open on my bed; a cat lies within each. Not that I’m packing them, of course. As soon as I unzip the black fabric, though, the best cat-trap ever is opened. Theodora peers at me over the sturdy zipper. Her ears flick front to back and she slits her eyes. She contemplates destruction. Howard, on the other hand, is already asleep. Continue reading
Are you made…
The chem lab smelled like every other chem lab she’d ever been in, except ten times worse. Ainsley was pretty sure that by the look of the folks sitting around the room, her fellow chemistry classmates found the smell of toxic chemicals pleasant. In fact, according to the looks that the two weirdos in the corner were giving each other, the stench in the room might even be an aphrodisiac for some chem majors. It definitely wasn’t having that affect on her. Holy crap! it stunk in here. As if an 8 o’clock lab wasn’t bad enough, she had to enroll in the one held on the lowest level of Dante’s sulfuric hell. This semester was so going to suck. Continue reading
I give thanks for many things. Many of them are you.
The girl paused, one hand on her belly, the other holding a can of tuna fish. There was something about her face that caused the old woman to leave her shopping cart and approach her.
“Are you alright my dear?”
“What? Oh, I’m fine. Just feel odd, that’s all. Perhaps if I sit down,” the young woman mumbled, setting the tuna back amongst the tidy rows and then leaning against the shelves. Continue reading
The fish is perfectly formed for its watery world.
The director looked over the railing at the ponds below. The air hummed as hundreds of machines performed the many tasks required to run a facility this size.
Thirty-six ponds, each stocked with one hundred hatchlings. If things progressed according to the plan, the Board would be very pleased. Very pleased indeed. The director let himself dream of what he’d purchase with his bonus. It was his favorite way to fall asleep these days, thinking of what toy he would reward himself once they were successful. Of course, he’d already purchased many toys with his salary. But the Board had hinted his bonus would be generous for having the product ready ahead of schedule. The director pounded his fists on the railing. The Board was due any minute and he couldn’t wait to see their faces when he showed them the hatchlings’ progress. Continue reading
A few weeks ago I was desperate to get myself out of my funk. Now, don’t get me wrong, funk is good stuff musically but not when applied to writing mojo. For a writer, a funk is totally unfunky. A typical writing practice to unfunk yourself is to just write any old thing. To write and not worry about what it is. Journal, write in your diary, just plunk your hiney down and write. BIC,FOK (Butt In Chair, Fingers on Keyboard – not as fun as what it sounds when you say it aloud and quickly.)
But we all know that I’m not good at un-purposeful activities, or at least the stuff that doesn’t feel purposeful to me. (Yes, this is a failing of mine. I don’t recommend it. Life at full-scphinter lock is not as much fun as it might appear.)
So I decided I would write some little piece of fiction based on a prompt my husband would find for me out in the interwebs. I’ve no idea how these will turn out aside from the following rules: Continue reading