DFF: Triplets?!?

Well, today’s prompt I started, and didn’t like where it was going, so I went for something else. Shifting to a new idea. Sometimes, when things don’t go the direction you want, you just have to switch gears.

Today’s Prompt: We all go a little mad sometimes. But don’t worry, I’m back.

Photo by Laura Fuhrman on Unsplash

Triplets?!?
It wasn’t like I was always like this. Oh no. Usually I am sane.  It is just… well, she pushed me over the edge with that announcement. I mean, pregnant! With triplets! What am I supposed to do with that! I wasn’t even ready for one.  Well, maybe I was… secretly, somewhere deep. But that was when it was just an idea. A possibility. Now it is real. Oh so very real. And there wont be just one, oh no, there will be THREE!   But if they have their mothers eyes… and maybe my nose. Gah! What am I thinking! Good thing none of the guys can hear me… Man alive, I would never hear the end of it. Baby fever. That only happens to women they say. Well, if that is the case, I guess I am not normal. I can take that though. 

A dad… wow. I guess maybe it is time to get my act together. Oh, maybe I can build a tree house! Oh that would be fun. Maybe a special closet for their dress up clothes. Time to change things up around the house. I should go through and start baby proofing. You never know how long that will take.  And the shopping. I know Leslii will really enjoy that. Maybe I should pick up some extra hours see if I can get us some extra money, a little nest egg stashed away. Three of them… oh man, how are we ever going to… Gotta pull myself together!  Deep breaths… let tomorrow take care of itself. Talk with Leslii, I am sure she already have several lists going on what needs to be done. We can get through this. One step at a time. Gotta remember not to take on more than I need to at once. We all go a little mad sometimes. But don’t worry, I’m back. I promise.  Maybe. Oh, what if I…

DFF: Glitter Stampede

Yes, I know that the tags following the conversation are terrible… the writing could use work, but remember guys, this is raw, unedited work… So enjoy the humor and look past the bad writing please…

Today’s Prompt: She showed up at his door, soaking wet, bruised, and covered in glitter.

Today’s Story:

Photo by h heyerlein on Unsplash

Glitter Stampede

It was just around three in the afternoon… school was getting out for the day, when there was a pounding at his door.  She stood there, shivering, soaking wet, bruised, and covered in glitter.
“What happened?!” Jerry exclaimed.
“Well… you see… I was in charge of the kindergartners art classes. To say it didn’t go well is an understatement.  I had paints and glitter… what could go wrong, right?” Suzi scoffs at herself.
“Obviously something happened… Did they charge you for the glitter?” Jerry laughs, trying to lighten the situation.
“Well, yes. As a matter of fact they full on stampeded! I guess I got off easy. The last person in charge of arts and crafts landed in the hospital. There should be a warning with that class!” She answers, pain making her voice waver.
“Oh man, here let me get you some different clothes! Do you need to be checked out?” He asks her.
“Why do you think I am here. I figured you could make sure there is nothing lasting. They were just kindergartners for criminy sakes! You would not believe how dangerous they are!” She retorts.
“Oh trust me, I know. Why do you think I avoid children at all costs. There is nothing more dangerous than a child after glitter…” he trails off laughing quietly. “Sorry… too soon, I know.”

Well, I hope you found the humor and please… share what comes to mind when you read this prompt! As always, I love hearing from you in the comments! And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

DFF: The Mark

Today’s piece is a bit different from my norm, and was a lot of fun.  I hope you enjoy a bit of a change of pace.

Today’s Prompt:  I woke up feeling the burden of love burning in my chest. The tingles—the excitement. It all makes me sick.

Today’s Story:

The Mark
As I watched him move, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. This was just getting worse and worse.  I would not let it happen to me. It couldn’t. He was a mark. Someone I was sent to con. Sides… there was no way I was ever falling in that trap.  After his lights went out, I curled up to sleep myself.
Bolting up, I have my knife in my hands, and I am looking for the danger, instead feeling the burden of love burning deep inside. The tingles… the excitement. It just makes me sick. I want no part of love. Love. That is a dirty word, full of lies and deceit. Groaning I fall back on my pillows, and glance out the window. There are lights across the way, movement in his house. It looks like flashlights, it is not him, and my people are just here to keep him safe, crap.
Grabbing up my throwing knifes belt, and buckling it on as I run out the door barefoot and into his side window, careful not to make a noise.  I creep up behind one of the intruders, pulling a small dart from my belt and tapping him with it.  Lowering him as quietly to the floor as I can.
Racing up the stairs, I manage to catch up to the other intruder, but not before my target wakes. His eyes on me, I almost freeze up, he is so perfect. Ugh! What is wrong with me? I berate myself while darting him as well. I guess there is no getting out of him knowing.
“What is going on Lus?” He asks me quietly.
“Oh just a neighborly intrusion. Thought you could use a spot of help.” I answer quietly.

Photo by Miti on Unsplash

“I see. Well… maybe you would like to grab a cup of tea? While I phone the authorities?” He asks, his voice liquid honey pouring over me.
“Oh, there is no need to call the authorities, I already have someone coming to collect the baggage around here. But… that cup of tea sounds delightful.” I answer, a hint of flirting in my voice. What is going on, cool it girl. Jeeze… Remember he is a mark… I tell myself sternly.
Following his graceful movements down the stairs and into the kitchen, I forget, just that quickly. After the team collects the men, we talk the rest of the night. The sun is rising, and neither of us have managed a drop of sleep. I can’t help but feel like some innocent giddy school girl, not that I would know what that feels like. But hey… sometimes we can’t control everything, maybe just this once I will see where this goes.

 

Well there you have it, another day, another flash. I hope you enjoyed… and hey, I love hearing from you! What can you come up with for this prompt? Please share!  And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

Letters Of Questioning: Dreamland’s Muse

Hey all, it is that time once again for another installment of Letters of Questioning!  This week we have a guest post coming at you from Dreamland’s Insurgents.

Greetings, dear friend Ravyn,

I have watched your last bout of writing with great interest – and amusement! The muse stories with the “Bob Ross lookalike” and Richard Simmons have got to be some of the funniest stories I’ve read in a looong time.

When “Tears for My Muse” opens, I was bracing myself for a serious story full of sorrows. The moping, tragic artist as bedraggled hero. But juxtapose that with Eilack, the heartless painter who stores up the artist’s tears and serves them back to him later – damn. I felt like that drama queen got his comeuppance!

“The Pioneer” is even funnier. This is one of those times where your commitment to just the right punctuation pays off. The protagonist’s discomfort is awesome … and definitely shared. Using the second person here pays off really well. I have to put myself in the body – the corpulent body – of another person, and the cognitive dissonance just haunts the whole thing. So the humor – which is always sort of a release valve for feeling uncomfortable – is just in constant tension because of the leap my imagination has to make!

Finally, I want to talk about “Shadow’s Savior.” As a working-class scholar, I found this one the most stimulating on that level. “Factory work was all that was available to me,” the narrator begins. It quickly unfolds that the material processed in this factory is unusual – and the narrator, too, must be unusual to be any good at it. And yet the setting of a factory conjures up so much more. This isn’t a workshop where a skilled artisan owns his own means of producing artisanal or custom products. He’s alienated from his labor – and what’s more, we find out, the raw materials he’s working on are stolen from someone else. Stolen shadows: an intimate theft.

It’s capitalism, all the way down!

You asked in your last letter, “What is it that inspires the uninspired and the tired?” I think sometimes, the struggle itself has to be the inspiration. That eternal fight – which lasts only as long as we do, of course, but precedes us and gets handed down to others. We have to save the shadows. Find the folks who have less than us, realize our relationship – that our lives and theirs depend on one another. And see through the illusion. Isn’t a factory a good metaphor for illusion? The raw material comes in without history or explanation. You do your job. The finished product leaves. You can’t even afford to keep a piece. The wool is pulled over your eyes the whole time.

I want to know more about your muse stories, though. These have the making of a really fun series! How many are you going to have? Are they related? And how have your own experiences with your fickle muse inspired these stories?

Well, I think that’s all the time I have for today. But don’t worry, I will have more questions for you soon!

Viva the resistance!

-Dreamland’s Insurgents

There you have it folks. Another round of inspiring thoughts, or thoughts to inspire, or question, or… well… something! What are YOUR burning questions, we implore you, please by all means, ask us!  We love to hear from you, our rabid fans, or is that rabbit fans? Who knows, but I do know that we love to hear your thoughts, so please express them in the comments!

DFF: Dreams Come True

Every once in a while, you jump into writing and you just hit that groove. I just love when that happens, don’t you?  Well… that was the case here… It plays on the Wish Upon a Star Disney song, which was not what I was planning when I got started, but I love how it turned out.

Today’s Prompt: I wished on a star once and it came true… I’ve spent the rest of my life being careful never to wish again.

Today’s Story:

Photo by Diego PH on Unsplash

Dreams Come True

They say to be careful what you wish for… There is more to it than that.  Once, long ago… when I was a young boy around your very age, I wished on a star, and it came true. You are supposed to be joyous for that, right?  Well, I’ve spent the rest of my life being careful to never wish again… For any reason.

I know, you want to know what I wished for, but that is not what matters here. What matters is that you need to be aware that our family is cursed.  Some like to say it is a gift, but… I ask you, is it? Is something that powerful really a gift?  The real struggle is that, well… most often it does not turn out like you would hope, and that my dear boy, is the whole reason I am telling you this.  Once wished for, there is no taking it back… something as simple as wishing your sister was never born… well… you never get over that. Everyone else does, as they do not remember… I am getting away from myself here. Always remember, that when you wish upon a star, it does in fact matter, who you are, because fate steps in, and she is not kind, you dreams really will… come true.

It ended somewhat dark, and I think that may be what I liked most about it, but I hope you enjoyed.  What about you?  What vision does this prompt conjure up? Please share in the comments below! I love hearing from you! And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

DFF: Only Hope

Well, I wasn’t really feeling the writing, but decided maybe I could do something with this prompt.  And wow… I sometimes impress even myself by what spins out… This is a very short piece and I feel that very shortness is what empowers it so much.

Today’s Prompt: A red gown floated around her as she descended the stairs— silver blood trailing behind her.

Today’s Story:

Photo by Andrey Zvyagintsev on Unsplash

Only Hope

The fight had been deadly, at least for a few people.  Her red gown floated around her, fluttering with every movement as she descended the stairs – a trail of silver blood left in every footprint.  She never once looked back, only forward with a determination never seen before, or since.  Killing the king was the only way to save herself, to save her children and the kingdom that she loved, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

There is it, I hope you enjoyed this little piece. I think it might just be my favorite so far.  What about you? What thoughts does this prompt provoke?  Please share in the comments below! I love hearing from you! And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

DFF: Attic Space

Lighthearted seems to be the mood I am in, but I hope you are ready for a twist. This has a strange fairy tale vibe, so I hope you enjoy.

Today’s Prompt: “Empty rooms in the attic for rent”

Today’s Story:

Attic Space

Photo by Moriah Leynes on Unsplash

The ad claimed empty rooms in the attic for rent. That sounded perfect to me. I really was more of a basement dweller, but the attic sounded nice and dreary too.  It may seem strange to others, but those dreary places were just perfect for me. They just gave me a sense of comfort.
“Hey, so you have an attic space for rent?” I ask on the call.
“Yup, sure do honey. There are two rooms up there, you can take both or just one. Would you like to come by and see them? There is even a door on the outside with a small patio on the roof. I just don’t need all this space since the kids left home.” The soft southern voice felt like it was thick as honey.
“That sounds alright…” I answer, unsure of what to make of any of that. An attic with a patio? A balcony more like, but still… that is a bit weird.  Well, I need a place, I can’t keep living outta my van.  “How about in an hour?” I ask her.

“Oh sure, honey. That sounds marvelous. I will be here all day. In fact I am always here, so come on by whenever you are free.” She said.
That sounded almost ominous… “Yeah, I will head that way now. Thanks… see you soon.”
“For sure honey, see you then” she said.
I hung up before she could say more. There was something about her that just gave me the heebie jeebies… And yet… she intrigued me all the same.  There was something compelling about her, more than the creepy factor.  Pulling up in front of the house I knew the place was perfect… It was secluded, with woods out back… Of course it totally had that Hansel and Gretel vibe going for it, which made me want to stay that much more.
Walking up the door opened before I even hit the top stair of the porch. No one was there… I crept inside slowly and the door slammed shut with a bang. My fangs popped out, and I knew this was going to be perfect… but a word to the wise, unless you are the bigger bad, never answer ads for rooms in the attic for rent.

There you have it, I hope you enjoyed.  What vibes does the prompt instill in you? What is your take on it?  Please share in the comments below.  I love hearing from you! And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

DFF: The Transcriber

I wanted to share another fun quick little piece I wrote with you. I have been trying to make up for the days I missed here and there when I have extra ideas.

Today’s Prompt: “You know what your problem is? You lack imagination.”   “Hardly… I created you, didn’t I?”

Today’s Story:

The Transcriber

Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash

There you were, arguing with your characters once again. The story is half way finished, and yet you find yourself wanting to go one way, while the characters demand another path. What you keep failing to remember is that it isn’t your story to tell, but theirs. You are just the conduit, to allow their story to be shared with the world.

“You know what your problem is? You lack imagination!” your main character, Claira scoffs at you.

“Hardly… I created you didn’t I?” you retort, feeling vindicated.

“Oh did you now. Did you forget the wellspring where all stories come from. That you are not the true creator, just the story teller. Allowing our worlds to shine in yours.  Our story is already known to us. It is you who is new to our world, not the other way around. So, sit back and let us tell the tale. You are only there to put it to paper so that others of your world can enjoy worlds that are not their own.” Claira scolds.  “Stop trying to be creative when you are so sadly lacking in imagination. Besides… you are only messing with the history of our lands.”

Taken aback, you can do nothing but gape at her. The gall of characters these days.  You long for the days before you understood where stories really came from. Yearning to believe that you are the creator of tales, rather than the transcriber.

Well, I hope you enjoyed that little insight into how writing works for me. What comes to mind when you read that prompt? Do you have a story to share? Please do in the comments!  I love hearing from you! And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

DFF: What Comes Next

Today we have a silly little piece… I was watching a fellow streamer and he said something and I just KNEW it had to be a flash piece.

Today’s Prompt: A thing happened, there was a time, now is the place.

Today’s Story:

What Comes Next

Suzi was rushing through to get to her house before a thing happened. It was not every day there was a time that you could experience a thing happening, and so she was very excited. Now is the place, she kept telling herself. There is only so many who actually were selected to experience a thing. The only downfall was, she really didn’t know where. All they said was that there was a time and now is the place. What does that even mean?

Unlocking the door and dropping her bags by the door, she runs to her room to grab a change of clothes and toss them in a bag. It is always best to be prepared. Rushing off to the kitchen, she hits the pantry next. Dropping some easy portable food and several bottles of water into the bag.  Tossing the bag on the table, she mentally checks things off the list. What could she need for any event that there was a time to happen?  Clothes, check, food and water, check… Heading off to the bathroom, she grabs a small toiletries bag and adds that to her growing bag, along with a throw blanket she snagged off her chair as she moved through the house.

Photo by Sam X on Unsplash

“Hmm… is that everything?” she asks herself.

“I hope so, because now is the place, and there was a time a thing happened, so it is time for us to depart. You have four minutes to finish collecting your things and prepare yourself for the trials.” A deep gravely voice sounds from behind her.

She whirls around, “oh, umm… wait? What? Trials? I thought…” she trails off. She really didn’t know what to think. No one actually knew what happened to those selected. It was thought to be an honor, but… maybe, just maybe they were all wrong. Well, she guessed she was about to find out one way or another. It was too late now.  Dashing to the door she grabbed her knapsack, and raced back grabbing the bag from the table, taking a final glance around.  Dashing back to the living room she grabbed her favorite book and the only picture of her family, dropping them into the bag as well.

“I am as ready as I will ever be I guess.” She tells him picking up the duffel bag from the table, turning to face him they are in a completely different room.  “Whoa… how…”

“This will be your space for the duration.  The thing has happened, there is no more time, then was the place.” his gravely voice rasps out.

“What am I…” she starts to ask.

“You will know, just follow the instructions.” He says and is gone.

“Oh yeah, just follow the instructions he says. As if that is some kind of answer. Nothing he has said has made sense thus far, outside of the four minutes to be ready.” She mumbles.  “Well, I guess now is the place, and some thing has happened, or something like that. I guess we just wait… and see what comes next.”

Well there you have it. A nonsense story, crafted for a bit of silliness and fun. What did that prompt bring to mind for you? Please share in the comments below. I love hearing from you! And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!

DFF: The Hitchhiker

I am changing the titles up a little, I want them to represent the story a little better and shorten them up some, so they may change a little in the coming days until I settle on something I like.  Please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think in the comments.  Without further ado today’s Flash Fiction.

Today’s Prompt:  Lost Gods were the worst hitchhikers.

Today’s Story:  The Hitchhiker

Photo by William Felker on Unsplash

I was a four hundred miles from nowhere, and there he was. Just trudging down the side of the road. He turned as he heard me coming, and a look of relief flashed across his face as he stepped in the middle of my lane, hands on his hips, expecting me to stop for him.  I could just go around him, but that seems like a bad choice. I don’t know why, I know how dangerous it is to stop, but I can’t help but feel a bit of pity for the man. There is nothing for miles.
Slowing to a stop, I open my window. “Where are you heading?” I ask him.
“Well, I don’t rightly know. Anywhere but here I guess. I don’t even know where here is. But, you are going to take me somewhere. And if I am not happy with that, you will take me somewhere else.” He glowers at me, grabbing up a bag that wasn’t there moments before and walking over to my passenger door, sliding in.
“Um. Wow. Okay. Here is the deal, I will take you in to the next town I am going to hit, but that is it. I’m sorry, but I don’t do well with demands. But I don’t feel comfortable just leaving you out here all alone either. Night is coming.” I mumble at the man sitting next to me, knowing he could be some kind of serial killer.
He turns in his seat and watches me closely. “I’m not going to hurt you, you know. I mean… I could, so easily. But I am honestly just trying to find something. I am not sure where it is, or how to find it just yet, I only know I am searching and you are just the one to help me. Don’t ask me why or how I know that, just know that I do, and I am always correct in these matters. It is a… skill.”
“Well, that’s … comforting, I guess.  How did you come to be out here, in the middle of nowhere? There is nothing for miles.” I ask, glancing over and I drive down the road.  “And I meant what I said, by the way. Only to the first town we hit. No further.”
“We shall see.” he said and closed his eyes. Gentle snoring slowly followed.
“Lost gods are the worst hitchhikers.” I mumble quietly to myself. “But I can hardly leave him there. Poor guy, may still have the bearing of a God, but I am pretty sure even he can’t remember what he is anymore.” I drive into the growing darkness, concerned that now I will be stuck with him.

There you have it, another flash piece. What comes to your mind with this prompt? Please share in the comments below.  I love hearing from you! And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!