Masks and Kisses #LoveBites2020

Sometimes love just bites… A group of author friends I know has a system of flash challenges associated with seasons of the year. I missed out on Monster Mash, hosted by Siobhan Muir, in October and Tipsy Santa, hosted by Ever Addams, in December of last year. This New Year I managed to make it out to the New Year Revolution hosted by Cara Michaels. Now I’ve somehow also managed to make it out to the Love Bites flash fiction blog hop of the series, hosted by Katheryn J. Avila, with a chance at one of two prizes! The challenge ran from the 10th of February until tonight. I’m coming in just under the wire here again to submit my piece of flash.

So without further ado, here is my addition to the Love Bites blog hop using the prompt “the fake relationship”! Be sure to share and/or comment across Twitter, Facebook, and elsewhere using the #LoveBites2020 hashtag. Don’t forget to check out the other tales under the tag, too!


Masks and Kisses

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

I turned around in my desk chair, the office hum droning around me, to find Eric poised with that signature charming grin and dashing twinkle in his eyes. From behind his back he presented a dozen red roses and an enormous box of chocolates that would give anyone diabetes if eaten all in one sitting.

“Eric… I thought we agreed to wait until we both got off work and were home,” I said quietly, flashing an apologetic ‘oopsie’ kind of smile at the nearest coworker that looked our way. They just scowled and looked back to their computer screen.

“I know we did, but I wanted to surprise you. Can’t I surprise my beautiful babe?” The innocence in his voice always made my heart melt. Eric leaned over to kiss my cheek, setting the flowers and chocolates on the corner of my desk.

A smile genuinely tugged at my lips. Heat slowly flooded my cheeks, turning them about as rosy as the roses I guessed. “Yes. You can. Just not here.” I gave him a playful shove and he chuckled. “Now go home. I’ll see you tonight, and thank you. It’s very sweet of you.”

Eric gave me a wink and one last kiss before turning and striding off through the cubicles so I could return to my work.

“You’re so lucky,” Nancy, my nearest coworker breathed as she leaned toward me. “I bet he’s the perfect guy.”

~*~*~*~

“Amanda Christine, will you marry me?”

I turned around in my chair from the shocked gasp of my mother and the jaw-drop of my father to find Eric down on one knee, presenting a stunningly gorgeous, and quite pricey based on its size, rock. Shock rattled my frame. Followed by confusion and then settling dread. My mother’s eyes burned into the back of my head, eagerly awaiting my answer.

I knew what she expected me to say.

I knew what Eric expected me to say.

And I knew what I really wanted to say.

“Well?” Eric pressed. The twinkle in his eyes not so dashing and innocent anymore. “Will you do the honor of making me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

I tugged at the sleeve of my sweater, rubbed a thumb over the bruises. Casting a fidgety glance aside I whispered, “Yes.” The shakiness to my voice went unheard, drowned out by my mother’s enthusiastic cheering that garnered attention from the whole restaurant.

What else could I really have said? No? We were the perfect couple.

~*~*~*~

The wadded ball of toilet paper in my hand did little to stem the blood flow. Pristine, crimson drops splashed at the porcelain white sink of our bathroom- No. His bathroom. I would have to make sure all those spots of blood left no trace to mar his perfect household.

Glancing in the mirror I caught sight of my state for the first time since I locked myself in against Eric’s pounding fists. My eye was swollen and turning a sickly blue-purple already. Fresh blood flowed down my cheek, mixing with tears that left a bitter, salty taste in my mouth each time I sobbed. The toilet paper in my hand soaked up the blood with the pace of a plague.

What felt like hours could have simply been minutes. The crashing outside the bathroom door had quit finally. Eric no longer yelled and body-slammed the door, which I had jammed shut by a broken towel rack. His voice still resounded in my head though, pounding just like the budding headache. My eyes kept hitting replay every time I blinked.

“Why do you have to make me so angry?! I asked you to do one simple thing! One!”

“I’m sorry. I just ran out of time. I’ve been up since five for work and-”

“Excuses! All of them! You couldn’t even do something as small as clean up the kitchen from dinner before I came home. You worthless bitch!”

Another crash startled me back, followed by a lazy thud at the door. “Amanda… Come on, baby. I’m sorry. Come out of there, dollface.”

I could only stare at my broken reflection.

~*~*~*~

The stillness of the night struck me first. So quiet my ears rang. I could have heard the blood hit to the ground. The high shrill in the distance broke the peace. Hues of red and blue came to dance across my front window in numbers.

For the first time in years, I smiled.

750 words / © 2020 Daelyn Morgana

Forgiveness is Not Goodbye #NYR2020

New Year, new flash! A group of author friends I know has a system of flash challenges associated with seasons of the year. I missed out on Monster Mash, hosted by Siobhan Muir, in October and Tipsy Santa, hosted by Ever Addams, in December. This New Year Cara Michaels is hosting the New Year Revolution flash fiction blog hop, with a chance at one of two prizes! The challenge ran from the 13th of January until tonight. I’m coming in just under the wire here to submit my piece of flash.

So without further ado, here is my addition to the New Year Revolution blog hop! Be sure to share and/or comment across Twitter, Facebook, and elsewhere using the #NYR2020 hashtag. Don’t forget to check out the other tales under the tag, too!


Forgiveness is Not Goodbye

It started with accidents.

Accidents that we mostly thought nothing of at the start.

‘It doesn’t happen if I’m up before 8am,’ my mother said.

At what point though are accidents not true accidents?

Devolving came quickly after that. First the lethargic nature. Then the sickness and pain.

‘He’s getting old,’ we said. ‘It’s probably just his age showing,’ we said.

How could we have been so right, and so wrong at the same time?

~*~*~

The car ride to the emergency vet’s seemed like one of the longest rides I have ever taken. We got the call this morning. The needed surgery that may, or may not, have given him a few more years of his life was getting riskier. Complications could run rampart. Odds of full recovery were getting slimmer.  He’s getting worse. He’s suffering.

‘Do you still wish to go through with the surgery?’

This car ride is our answer.

I’ve never liked hospitals. They make me uneasy, they make me tense. The stench of chemicals and unnatural life. The essence of death and birth that hangs in the air in constant war with each other. The silence that is only interrupted by the sounds of Death’s scythe tapping across pristine tiles in a rhythmic approach to rooms.

Veterinary hospitals are almost no different.

Stepping into the white-tiled reception hall and waiting room made my heart clench and climb into my throat. It was taking all my will to not dissolve into a sniveling mess, and now was no different. An adorable black Labrador, Shepherd cross puppy before me both managed to distract me from my pain and also make it hurt more.

I remember when Snowball used to be that small and that cute. Well, he’s still that small, but he’s only that cute now when he’s freshly groomed.

Guess we won’t be making those appointments anymore. . .

Time seems to stand still as we wait to be seen. I can’t keep my eyes from roaming over the animals and people there, reading their faces, feeling their own emotions mingling with mine. My mother’s voice is meek when she talks to the receptionist. I hardly remember myself speaking up, explaining why we came, pet-less as we were. Somehow I know I kept my voice level, kept my composure unlike my mother’s unraveling state. The sympathy in her eyes hurts as much as what I know I will have to endure soon.

From there the wait is eternally short. The exam room we are led into is bare in comparison to what I expected. The paperwork is damning when the receptionist comes back in. I again find myself speaking for my mother. Small talk, mostly observational and immaterial, is all that keeps me centered when she leaves until that door opens again.

The nurse brings in a small bundle, swaddled in blankets. Only a white, scraggly head pokes out from the soft indigo. I can hear the heavy, ragged draw of breaths as Snowball’s set down. Small legs stumble when he takes the start of his last steps. Disoriented. Weak.

Terrified.

Warm brown eyes have lost their wild lust for life when they see me. Pain clouds them. A Soul tired look. It’s as if he’s looking right through me, already gone.

 Does he even recognize me?

I can’t allow myself to think those things right now.

So I sit myself on the floor, numb to the fact my stillness causes my legs to eventually go to sleep, and leave my hand outstretched. Waiting, again. My poor baby boy will hardly come near me. How can I blame him? We left him alone in this big, scary place overnight. We are his whole world, and to him we abandoned him.

Trust must be rebuilt.

I know not how much time passes before Snowball allows me to be close, to comfort him, to murmur sweet nothings. To love him one last time with tears in my eyes.

“Are we doing the right thing?” I ask in a shaky voice when the time comes.

The vet pauses just long enough to look up, but my eyes are on the cloudy white liquid seeping through my dog’s IV, and the syringe of pink now hooked up to it. Out of my peripheral I see her nod. “You are.”

I am the last thing he sees.

Deep down I know with complete confidence she is right, but how do I give my broken heart that absolution?

746 words / © 2020 Daelyn Morgana


In loving memory. . .

Image may contain: text

When Tragedy Strikes

Hi, everyone. I know, I dropped off on a long hiatus again. I didn’t keep up with writing as I had wanted to. I have, however, started to keep up with weekly flash fiction challenges. (Namely #ThursThreads hosted by the lovely Siobhan Muir and #MenageMonday hosted by the amazing Cara Michaels.) I need to get myself back into Wednesday Words from the awesome P.T. Wyant, too.

Today is not about a recap of what’s going on with this sporadic blogger author though. It is not about my own announcements or my own experiences. Today’s post is a memorial to a beautiful young soul who’s life was tragically cut short late Tuesday night.

Yesterday I wrote a tribute to her life and memory on Facebook.

We all live to believe this world is big and what happens to it and others are not our own problems and won’t affect us. But we are wrong. This world is small and fragile and more often than not right on our front steps.

I learned that today. This afternoon I got a group text. A text that brought shock, grief, anger, and pain.

Last night there was a shooting in the Hill District at a graduation/birthday party full of teenagers and young adults. A potentially senseless shooting that destroyed what should have been one of the best days of a young girl’s life. That young girl was my employee and now her life is gone. She had literally just turned seventeen. Just graduated high school. Full of potential. Hard-working. Willing to learn. Upbeat. Happy. A beautiful soul. She was planning for college. She was going to be a nurse. She had her whole life ahead of her, and now it is all gone. And because of what? For what?

This world is not as big as we think it is. The problems of this world are always closer than they appear to be. Today I learned that as I still sit here in shock. She may have only worked with my company for a short period, but it was enough to make a connection. A simple passing “hello” is enough to make a connection. It is enough to leave an ache in my chest, to make the weight of this messed up world press down on my shoulders. This life and world we live in is precious and it only takes one second, one pop of a gun to take it all away. Senseless. Greedy. Worthless violence. And it needs to end before another beautiful soul is taken from this earth for useless reasons. #RIPbeautifulsoul #stoptheviolence #whereisourgunreform #whereisthejustice

Today I turned the #ThursThreads prompt into a lesson to honor her in my flash piece.

~*~*~*~*~

The erratic beep, beep of the checkout scanners around me reminded me of the beep, beep of a heart monitor. I watched the cashier scan each of my items. A bag of Doritos. Carrots. Gallon of milk. Tissues.

My expression fell, following that item all the way to the end of the belt. Hazel eyes drifted up to the young woman. She was African American. Her name tag read “Faith” in bold, black letters. Tight braided hair that fell past her chest. Warm brown eyes. She couldn’tve been more than seventeen. She looked bored.

“First job?” I asked softly, randomly.

Faith gave me a weird glance. I knew that look in retail. “Um, yeah… Why?”

“Just curious.” The beep, beep of the scanners overtook the awkward silence. I sucked in a breath. “Cherish this job, hun. I know it feels demeaning and customers can be royal asshats. But cherish it while you have it. This world is cruel. It only takes one second, one pop of a gun for tragedy to strike and life to be stripped away.”

She gave me a haughty look, understandably. “Why are you telling me this? Because I’m black?”

I couldn’t blame her. I was white. To her I was privileged. I held my calm, looked into her eyes with grief in mine. “No,” I whispered. “Because violence is everywhere. It doesn’t discriminate and even when we think the world’s problems won’t affect us they have a funny way of showing up on our doorstep.”

~*~*~*~*~

When tragedy strikes I am only able to write and feel what is tumbling through me. I am only able to light candles and honor the one who passed through the veil however I can. So write for her memory I will, and light candles to guide her soul I will. For I will not just do nothing.

May you find peace wherever you are now, Alexus. Fly high, beautiful soul.

Heartstone Voids (Wednesday Words 5.10.17)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction Shard based off a photo prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

This tale is also a continuation of Dragonstone from 3.15.17.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Heartstone Voids

Innin’s bellows echoed off the high stone ceilings. The sounds of distress carried through the maze of passages linking Flamer hideouts to their winged mounts’ dwellings, disturbing those that were trying to rest in the mountain. She didn’t pay mind to the responding screeches and yells from them trying to get her to quiet down. She was too agitated to care.

Smoke filled the space around her, flowing freely from her snout with each distressed huff. The sound of raking claws on stone only furthered her agitation as she paced around and around, wings flaring.

He should have been back by now! Foolish rider! Why did he have to go off on his own?!

The sun had nearly set below the horizon and still there was no sign of Fenian. He had left that morning to try to track down the dragonstone and should have been back by now. He should have been back hours ago, or at the very least have gotten within range to reach out and say he needed her now.

Can’t trap a leprechaun while trying to hide a dragon. She snorted. I could have been out of range while he hunted the leech. He didn’t have to go alone!

Another roar of worried frustration shook the cavern, sprinkling dust down over her shimmering emerald scales. The prickling of dread seeping through her veins with each passing moment was making her antsy. The bond was trying to tell her something, she knew it, but she couldn’t figure out what it was trying to say.

Was Fenian in trouble? Had he bit off more than he could chew without her? Or had he just been delayed in finding the leprechaun and was on his way back now?

Her tail flicked against the stone as she rounded and stomped to the mouth of the cave, staring out over the dwindling landscape below. She could see the forests, the lakes, the towns and kingdoms from here; almost as well as she could see them from the skies. With eyes like a hawk she caught the flurry of movement along the mountainside. She snaked her head out further and looked down to find a female elf hurrying up the carved staircase set into the cliffs. One rickety line of wood railing kept them from plunging to their death. Worthless railing if anyone asked her.

The setting sun glistened off the elf’s hair. Red hair, petite… Is that…? Innin flared her nostrils, trying to catch the elf’s scent on the breeze. Alenia!

Innin rushed out of the cave and pushed off the rocks, flinging her wings open to ride the wind currents down to her. The passing of her great shadow caused the elf below to pause and look up, then retreat a few steps backwards when she landed hard on the mountainside, digging her claws into the rock to hold herself. Pebbles and dust rained down onto the stairwell. She left her wings open for balance and turned her head toward Alenia.

:Alenia!: she shouted telepathically, catching the elf off guard by the booming voice in her head. To her credit, dragons didn’t normally mind speak with anyone other than their Flamer or other dragons. :Have you seen Fenian?: she demanded.

The elf shook her head and blinked before focusing on Innin’s words. “I…” She floundered out of breath. “I… No, I haven’t seen Fenian. I was…actually coming here in hopes of finding him. He said we would meet at the tavern tonight for dinner but he never showed and I haven’t heard from him.” Her brow creased worriedly. “Is he…not here?”

Innin reared her head back and shot flames upward over the rock with a guttural growl, scorching them. Her scales rattled when her body quivered.

“Innin!” Alenia exclaimed. “Innin, what’s wrong?! Where is Fenian?”

:I don’t know!: she snapped, fangs clicking together as she cut off the flames. Smoke poured from her snout with each heavy breath. :He said he went hunting to find the leprechaun that stole the dragonstone, and he didn’t want me to come because a dragon is easily spotted. He left this morning. He should have been back by now! But I have not heard or seen heads or tails of him since. Something is wrong.:

“Have…you tried reaching him with the heartstone?” she asked timidly. “Have you felt anything through the bond?”

:It is blank! An abyssal void! I cannot feel or sense anything even when I should, I can’t even sense HIM!:

Alenia flinched at the senseless fury and worry in her tone, giving her head a shake. “Did Fenian say where he was going?”

Another billow of smoke wafted from her nostrils, curling her head toward the elf with blazing eyes of fire. :He mentioned the Enchanted Forest, that was all.:

“Then let’s go and look for him.”

:It’s almost dark!:

“I know…” she replied, trying to sound soothing. It was kind of hard to be soothing toward an enraged dragon though. “But we can still look. If he did run into trouble then we can’t wait till next sunrise. You go on and fly ahead, I will race back and get a horse and a few scouts to help, then I will meet you out there.”

Innin stared at her, trying in vain to calm her racing heart and all the unspeakable thoughts darting through her head. Leprechauns were not a friendly bunch, and their people had never gotten along with those thieves and murderers. She feared for what could be happening to Fenian if he had run into trouble with them. She whipped her tail back and forth.

:No. Send a hawk with a message for scouts to meet us there. I can’t waste any more time. You’re flying with me.:

Alenia’s eyes widened and some of the color drained from her face. “Wha-?”

She broke off in a squeal when Innin wrapped her tail around her waist and raised her wings. She pushed off the mountainside and beat hard to raise higher in the air. Only once she was level in the sky and hovering did she wind her tail to her back to set Alenia down between two of her dark green spikes. The elf clung to the spike in a bear hug for dear life.

“Innin,” she squeaked. “I don’t like the idea of-”

:Oh just hold on and you won’t fall off. I’ll catch you in my claw if you do.: She heard Alenia gulp, then she shot forward in the sky, taking off for the Enchanted Forest. :Now hang tight, I have a rider to find and flay to a crisp after saving.:

“But I haven’t sent a hawk!” she exclaimed, voice nearly lost on the wind.


Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final

A Life Too Short (Wednesday Words 5.3.17)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction Shard based off a three word combination prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A Life Too Short

In Loving Memory of a Dear Classmate

One of my classmates died yesterday. Unexpectedly; just like every other tragedy that occurs. The sun is shining and birds are singing on this picture perfect day outside, but the beauty is lost on so many today. To us it is overcast by shadow and storm clouds of a different kind. Our worlds have come to a standstill, but life around us hasn’t slowed or stopped to mourn with us.

It keeps on turning, blissfully ignorant to the pain in our hearts.

The clock continues to tick away the agonizing seconds, minutes, hours, transforming them into days and weeks. They say time heals wounds of the heart, but that isn’t always true. Sometimes time only makes the pain worse. It makes days likes this, perfect days, become mockery to our suffering.

Doesn’t the world care?

Of course it doesn’t. At least not all of it. The world as a large whole is unaffected by this tragedy, just like so many others that happen every day, but so many individual lives around me are now grieving and trying to process a loss that is incomprehensible.

How do you deal with the unexpected tragedy of a life so bright, and so full of heart, snatched from a world that was better off with her in it?

The answer is I don’t know.

Maybe you sit and stare blankly at a wall, unable to feel, unable to cry just yet because it still feels surreal. Part of you believes the phone next to you is going to light up and start ringing with a call from your friend, daughter, cousin, sister… But it doesn’t.

No matter how much you will it to not be real it unfortunately is.

Or perhaps the reality slams into you so fast and so hard that you want to find some place secluded where you can scream at the world at the top of your lungs for this injustice. The middle of the woods, a garden shed, sitting in your car, anywhere available where you can let it out. Where you can curl up and cry until you have no tears left, and scream until your lungs give out.

I don’t know how you grieve, how you may cope. Everyone is different. Maybe one day time will scar the wound we now bear, but that day is not today. For when our hearts freeze like an unexpected snowstorm in May, I do know one thing for sure…

The world lost a beautiful soul yesterday. A kind, caring, selfless individual who always smiled and always welcomed everyone around her with open arms. She could light up the room with her presence. I had never met another person so devoted to their family, with such a bright future and a good head on their shoulders. A young woman who touched and changed so many lives with her own. The memories and photos left on her wall speak of a life that was worth every moment of it, and it is a shame it was cut so short at just twenty-two years.

I guess it’s true when they say the good ones are always taken first.

I saw a quote a friend of hers shared yesterday: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

How lucky we were indeed.

Tonight I choose not to mourn anymore, but to celebrate the bright life she lived instead. Tonight I light a candle in her honor. She may be gone but she will never be forgotten for the joy she spread and the lives she forever changed. The world may not have stopped to mourn with us, but know we would have stopped the world for you.

Rest easy now, and fly high, angel.

not to die


Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final

Tea Party (Wednesday Words 4.26.17)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction Shard based off a three word combination prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tea Party

Darcy skipped over to the garden patch and reached in to pluck the garden gnome from his post next to the tulips. Then she skipped to her left and plucked the green and brown ceramic turtle from his home by the decorative rocks. Tucking them under her arms she hummed her way back to the plastic table and chairs set up in the center of the backyard.

She set them each on their respective chairs then took her own seat with a giggle, picking up the kid-friendly teapot to pour an imaginary cup for each of them. “So how has the week been for the two of you?” she asked.

The reply they gave was only heard in her head with the power of her imagination, but she smiled all the same to the turtle.

“Oh that’s great, Hooper! It was a big rainstorm we had the other day. I knew you’d like that.” Darcy then frowned and looked to the gnome. “What’s the matter, Grumpy? You didn’t have a good week?”

The gnome stared with a fixed disgruntled expression and Darcy’s face fell.

“Rocco did it again?” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Grumpy. You know he can’t help it. He’s just a puppy. At least the rain washed it all off though, didn’t it? You got a nice bath!” She beamed for a second, then frowned slightly once more. “Oh… I’m sorry. Rocco doesn’t mean it.”

Silence fell between the trio as Darcy sipped at her imaginary tea. The squawk of a crow grabbed her attention after a moment and she looked up to see one streak across the yard overhead, landing in a nearby tree. It preened its wings and a black feather floated to the ground.

Darcy got out of her chair and scurried toward the feather, bending to pick it up before holding it up to the crow in the tree, head tilted all the way back. “Excuse me, Mr. Crow!” she called, “I think you dropped this.”

The bird cocked its head at her, staring with beady eyes for a second. It squawked and flapped its wings.

She frowned in confusion. “Oh? You don’t…need it? But it’s yours. Why don’t you need it Mr. Crow? Doesn’t it help you fly?”

Mr. Crow hopped along the branch with wings out, rustling the leaves as it continued to stare down at her.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

A series of caws left its beak this time before it pushed off and glided into the sky, flying away over her house and out of sight. She watched the crow leave before waving goodbye to it with a smile, starting to skip back to her tea party as she tucked the feather into her hair.

“Goodbye, Mr. Crow, and thank you for the gift!”


Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final

Windows of Life (Wednesday Words 4.19.17)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction Shard based off an occurence prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Windows of Life

“Mom! I’m home,” I called through the house as I shut the front door. I didn’t exactly expect an answer so when no voice greeted me back I wasn’t surprised.

Setting my book bag down by the door I wandered through the downstairs, looking for my mother. The floor was quiet though, dark with drawn drapes. I threw a couple of them open, fading light playing off the floating dust particles in the room. In the kitchen I frowned to find there weren’t any new dishes in the sink and the bowl of cereal I had left out on the table when I skipped out that morning for school was hardly touched.

I sighed as I took the bowl of dry frosted flakes and threw the rest out to the animals out back, then put the bowl in the sink and started for the stairs. “Mom?” I called again.

My foot hesitated on the first stair, hand gripping the railing as I took a deep breath. I always feared what I would come home too. Would I find my mother actually functioning by eating or reading or watching TV on the rare days she was doing better? Or would I find her laying in bed upstairs once more, barely having moved the whole day?

Or, worse yet, would I find her dead?

I let out the shaky breath I was holding and ascended the staircase. My eyes glanced over the box of books in the upper hallway, frowning. My mother had refused to leave the encyclopedias on the shelf in her room after my father died. She claimed it reminded her too much of him, too much of how he came alive when he was teaching a class at the university. One day, in a fit of hysterical crying, she had thrown every book off the shelves in their bedroom, and since then they had laid dormant in a box in the hallway.

My mother never wanted to see them again, but that didn’t mean I wanted to part with the set. It was almost all I had left of him now after she broke or packed up every other reminder. She claimed it was too painful to leave it sitting out, but to me it was like she was trying to forget dad ever existed.

I picked up the box of books and moved them into my bedroom, hiding them under the bed. Out of sight, but never out of mind. Maybe later I could read the inscriptions of quotes he wrote on the inside cover of every book he ever owned. Maybe later I could let myself feel the pain again.

A deep breath dropped my shoulders and I started down the hall before I could think too much on the subject. It was easier to deal with my mother if my mind was devoid of every emotional thought.

“Mom?” I asked softly as I stopped at her door and rapped on the wood. A tiny murmur greeted me this time and relief flooded my veins.

Today was not the day I would find her dead.

Pushing open the door I walked in, peering through the gloom to find her huddled up under the covers, staring blankly at the wall. I hated that look on her face. It was like she had become a shell of a person. I wanted to hide from the world and grieve too, but I couldn’t, because if I did then there would be no one left to take care of her, and no one to maintain this house or whatever life they had left here. I hated that she got to be the grieving, deadened one and not me. I was the child, she was supposed to be the strength for both of us. She was supposed to comfort me.

“Have you eaten anything today, mom?” I asked, shoving aside the resentful thoughts.

She didn’t answer, only slid her glassy gaze toward me before looking back to the wall with a sigh. I frowned.

“I guess that’s a no… Have you been out of bed yet?” She shrugged and a pinch of anger bloomed in my chest. “Mom… You can’t keep-” I bit my tongue before I could finish that sentence, knowing it would only fall on deaf ears, then let out a breath. “Never mind. I’m going to go make dinner and come get you when it’s ready, then you’re going to take a shower while I’m doing my homework. You didn’t take one yesterday.”

My mother gave a weary incoherent mumble and turned over in bed, facing away from me. I stared at her for a second before turning away to go start a load of laundry and cook dinner with a heavy heart.

I hadn’t just lost my father on the night of that fire, I lost my mother too.


Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final

My Damned (Wednesday Words 4.12.17)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction Shard based off a photo prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My Damned

I see you
Out there,
Tiptoeing among the
Rocks and moss in bare soles.
You’re looking for…
Something,
Among the trickles of water and
Slippery shale.
A smile graces your face,
Your eyes twinkle in amusement.

My eyes glint too —
Not in amusement, but in
Wickedness.
You don’t know I’m here.
Watching.
Waiting.
Lurking within this cavern of rock.

How could you know?

I am invisible to the
Untrained eye;
A phantom of
Superstition.
Those who don’t believe
Never see me coming,
Luring them away.

Your bright laughter makes me
Sneer in contempt.
I loathe that sound —
The sound of
Happiness, of
Life.

You splash closer to my lair.
I grin a feral smile.
The match to
My beacon,
My trap
Ignites.

The blaze of my eternal fire
Captures your attention.
It scorches your
Soul from behind the dribbles of
Fairy-sized waterfalls.

Beckoning,
Tempting.
It draws you closer,
Curls you around my
Spell.

Your foot skims over the
Shallow puddles.
One step closer —
Then another,
And another.

“Yes, come,”
My voice slithers, as
Slippery as the rock faces
Surrounding my Rift.

You stop and crouch
Before my mouth.
My grin widens.
I whisper across your senses,
Blurring your reality.
The moment you begin to see
Etches across your face in
Creases of terror.

But by then it is
Already too late.

Ancient demonic tongues enthrall
Your consciousness in
Ropes,
Drawn taunt.
Eternal fire licks its
Fingers toward you,
Swirling around your being,
Pulling you in closer,
Deeper.

Away from
Mortality;
Away from
Salvation.

I am
Abdaddon, and you —
My
Damned.


Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final

Time After Time (Wednesday Words 4.5.17)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction Shard based off a three word combination prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Time After Time

The trilling sound of a whistle rang shrilly through the air. A loud, blaring sound cut through his senses, followed by nails on a chalkboard squealing and screeching. He turned his head just in time to see the massive rectangle on wheels barreling down on him. Terror gripped him and he threw his hands up in a desperate attempt to shield himself.

Its flat face came within inches of smashing into him before the screeching stopped with a puff of dispelled air and the smell of burning rubber.

“Get the fuck out of the middle of the road, foreigner!”

Henry lowered his arms and peeked one eye open to find the metal beast looming over him. What was a fuck? Was it a thing he needed to move? A sharp burst of sound from the machine made him jump.

“Get out of the road! Are you trying to get yourself killed, you dumb moron?! Move!”

His gaze flicked to the angry person leaning out a window of one of the other, smaller metal things, shaking a fist and yelling at him. He straightened his dress jacket and glanced back to the mechanical beast in front of him, then hurried out of the road. Another metal beast came to a grinding halt as he hurried past, bumping into him lightly. He stumbled, holding his hands up.

“Sorry, sorry,” he tried to apologize to the disgruntled driver, moving past again and making it to the sidewalk where the rest of the pedestrians were hurrying along. He caught a couple strange gazes as he leaned back on a building, looking upwards at the towering skyscrapers in awe. He had never seen something so tall, so magnificent!

Everything here was beyond what he could have ever imagined on his own. Time travel was truly remarkable. He wasn’t quite sure where to look first. There were so many different people, of different color too! Astounding! Then there were these towering buildings, and metal beasts zipping along. Flashing lights and signs. And the noise! My Gods the noise!

It was overbearing, and incredible the types of sounds this futuristic new world managed to produce. He could hear music down the way, the many sounds of the people, dogs barking and cats yowling in response from an alleyway. Then there was the screeching and honking from the metal machines on the road, and those coming from some of the signs or from inside propped open doors to shops.

Remarkable! It was truly remarkable the world he had visited.

“Pardon me, madam?” he asked, reaching out to a passerby.

The woman yanked away from his touch, hitching her shoulder bag further up on her arm and gripping it tight. A stern, wary gaze traveled up and down his person. “You’re wearing some odd clothing, dude. What’d you do? Fall right out of the colonial days?”

Henry blinked. “Well, actually, I have. But might you be so kind as to tell me what year this is?”

The look she gave him might as well have been that of someone who saw four heads sitting on his shoulders instead of one. He could have sworn her heard her mutter something along the lines of “bat shit crazy freak” but he couldn’t be certain.

“Pardon?” What was bat shit crazy anyway?

“Look. Weirdo. Why don’t you run along back wherever you came from before you get yourself killed by running into the street without watching your step. Though you wouldn’t be the first crazy lunatic to do so.” She flipped bright pink hair over her shoulder and turned, walking away before he could stop her.

Henry watched with a combination of bafflement and amazement. Such bright hair! He wondered if it grew in that color. Never before had he seen something so bright, and so pink. He glanced around again, then found a bench not far away, wandering over to sit down. The other patron seated upon it gave him a sneered glance before getting up and walking away, babbling into a little rectangular device held up to his ear. He dismissed the person — though he was curious what the device had been — and pulled out a miniature tattered book from his vest pocket. Flipping through it he glanced over the pages filled with details and notes of the years he had visited, the places even.

A wistful smile pulled at his face. It was like watching mankind and the world grow and evolve, all in one lifetime. He stopped on the next blank page, glancing up to look at a flashing sign on a building that read PNC Bank. The screen showed the weather, then an advertisement for a strange product called a tampon, then to his luck it showed the time. Or, more importantly, it showed the date. He smiled more.

“Hello, 2017. You are quite astounding indeed.”


Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final

Alice in Court (Wednesday Words 3.29.17)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction Shard based off a photo prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alice in Court

“You’re late, you’re late, for a very important date!”

Alice tilted her head at the voice filtering through the walls toward her. It was frantic, like someone who had wolfed down way too much sugar and energy drinks. She glanced to the door.

“You’re late, you’re late, for a very important date!”

It was closer this time. Who was late? And who was yelling the phrase? She stepped to the door and crouched, peering out through the keyhole into the woods with one eye. Along the pathway stood a white rabbit with its nose twitching. Red eyes were locked on the door of her cottage. For a brief moment she could have sworn it caught her one-eyed gaze through the keyhole. A cold breeze raced down her spine so fleetingly that she nearly missed it.

The rabbit hopped a step closer to the cottage. “You’re late, you’re late!”

Alice gasped and reeled back in surprise, covering her mouth with her hand. The White Rabbit… It talked. It spoke to her. Just like the one from her dream several nights before. She was late? Late for what important date? After a second she crouched and gazed through the keyhole again. A frown creased her lips when she didn’t see the rabbit anymore. Where had it gone? She straightened.

“You’re late, you’re late!” It was coming from right outside her door now, right on the front stoop by the sound of it.

Her head snapped back to the door and she cautiously peeked once more as best she could to see her front step. Sure enough, the rabbit was standing right on the step, staring up at her with gleaming red eyes.

“You’re late, you’re late,” it cackled. The squeaky, high-pitched tone of the White Rabbit began to deepen into something more sinister.

A strangeness overtook Alice’s limbs like her body was being compacted. The world began to grow bigger and bigger as if she was getting smaller and smaller. The keyhole rose up away from her toward the sky and the door became an impassable mountain. Then the floor suddenly rushed up to meet her shrinking form. It caught her roughly in the knees and tossed her out through the keyhole into the woods. Alice screamed in confused panic, arms flailing as she tumbled through the air. The world enlarged back to normal as she flew and hit the dirt.

“You’re late, you’re late. For a very important date.” The voice of the White Rabbit was now distorted and deep with nails screeching down a chalkboard.

Her surroundings began to darken, bleeding away the light and color like ink on a newspaper left out in the rain. The trees shed their leaves and grew tall and thin, twisting and bending into disfigured shapes. She could hear whispers among the brush. Cackling and screeching sounded in the far off distance. Expect for the eerie cackle of the White Rabbit. That one was right behind her.

Alice whipped her head around and almost screamed, scrambling backwards in a crab walk to get away from the creature that no longer resembled a cute little bunny. The White Rabbit had grown to roughly nine foot tall, standing on hind legs. Dangerous claws flexed on its front paws, half reaching for her then pulling back repeatedly like it was teasing her. Pristine fur had changed to a pitch black coarse pelt, and vicious red eyes glowed at her with a disturbing craze. It smiled, showing off pointed buck teeth.

It wasn’t the White Rabbit anymore. It was a thing of nightmares. It was the Black Rabbit.

“You’re late, you’re late, for a very important date, White Queen.”

“What?” she breathed, still scooting back slowly. “I’m not…”

Alice trailed off as she caught sight of her clothes. Her normal peasant’s dress was now a flowing gown of white silk with gold trim. Something heavy rested on top her head and she reached up to find a tiara nestled among auburn curls.

The Black Rabbit took a half step toward her and she backed up, forgetting about her clothes. “The Black Queen, Queen of Bleeding Hearts, wants her checkmate. Run. Run. As fast as you can, White Queen. The Black Rook is coming for you. It’s your move.”

She scurried to her feet and stumbled back into a tree. Casting her gaze past the Black Rabbit dismay sank into her gut to see her cottage was no longer there. She was on her own.

“Run. Run.” The rabbit cackled again and grinned at her.

Alice stared at the Black Rabbit for a second before gathering her skirts and fleeing into the darkened forest as fast as she could without tripping.


Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final