Seeing Ghosts (Wednesday Words 8.17.16)

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 prompt based off a line to be used within the work. 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.)

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

Seeing Ghosts

A knock on the door made Justin pause with the spoon halfway to his mouth. With a curious frown, he set the silverware down and pushed away from the kitchen table, wandering off towards the front door. Another insistent knock sounded.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbled. “Interrupting my breakfast.”

One last knock sounded before he grabbed the handle and opened the door, only to stop dead in his tracks at who was standing on his doorstep. He felt all the air whoosh out of his lungs, his heart stop. The blood drained from his face and his knees weakened. His mouth worked around but no sound came out. Shock didn’t even begin to cover what he was feeling.

“Hi, Justin,” the visitor said softly.

He gaped. “Hi? Hi? HI?!” His voice turned squeaky for a second. “You died! I… We… You… We buried you!” He felt ready to faint, swaying on his feet.

“I know…” His face fell and he reached out to steady his old roommate, only for Justin to jump back like he was poison. He tried not to let it hurt so much. “Justin, I am so sorry for all of this. But I had to.”

“Had to what? You’re supposed to be dead!” He put his hand over his heart. “Oh… Oh my God… I’m going to faint. I’m having a heart attack. Where’s the phonebook? I’m seeing ghosts. I need a psychologist. Where’s my straight jacket!?” He turned away from the visitor and started stumbling down the hall, still muttering to himself in utter disbelief.

“Justin,” he called, quickly letting himself in and closing the door. “Justin, please, just hear me out.” Worry tinged his voice and grey eyes.

“Hear out a dead man?” He laughed crazily. “Hear out a dead man? You hear that, universe! I’ve gone loco!” His head pounded and he rubbed at his forehead. “Oh… Oh… Where’s my aspirin?”

“Justin, stop.” He reached out and took his friend’s arm. “I faked my death, I had to. I’m not dead.”

“Faked…” Justin stared at him. “Why the hell would you do that, Jason!?”

He flinched back a little. “I had no choice. Not until the coast was clear.”

“Clear of what? Seagulls?!”

Jason frowned. “No,” he replied softly. “Until I was no longer being stalked.”

For a moment, Justin stilled and just stared at him. Then he started wandering off again. “My best friend, my lover, my heart and soul just fakes his death and disappears without a trace, without so much as an explanation. We buried a casket, a casket with no body. Nothing but photos and trinkets and… And you think it was alright to simply show up at my doorstep with no warning?” His hand went against his head, eyes fluttering closed. “I’m going to faint.”

“You aren’t going to faint.”

Justin shot him a glare, wandering into the bathroom and pulling out the bottle of aspirin. He stared at the directions for how many not to exceed, frowned, then popped one extra into his hand anyways and downed them with a glass of water. There was not enough aspirin in the world for this circumstance.

“You’re angry with me…”

“Angry? You ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years! I have a right to be angry!”

Jason frowned. “You’re still on about the cereal?”

“They were my cocoa puffs. You messed with my morning routine. Like, oh my God, even today!” He motioned wildly back down the hall towards the kitchen where his bowl of cereal was sitting and waiting for him.

Jason sighed, looking up to the ceiling and muttering something.

“How can you just simply upend your life and leave me hanging for three years thinking you were gone and you ripped my heart into pieces and…” He was blubbering now, starting to cry in the overwhelming emotions.

His roommate frowned and stepped up to him, planting his lips softly against his to stop his inconsistent babbling. Justin stilled, going silent at the caress of warm lips he had missed for so long. After a moment Jason pulled back and leaned his forehead against Justin’s, staring into those blue eyes he loved so much.

“I hate you.”

Jason gave a wistful smile. “But you also love me.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered.

“I know…” He put his hand against Justin’s cheek. “Please, can we talk this out?”

Justin hesitated, then gave a small nod, letting his partner lead him down the hall to the living room to sit and talk. “You know that kiss doesn’t make up for three years of absence. And you owe me a bowl of non-soggy cocoa puffs now.”

Jason chuckled, stopping to give him a quick kiss, glad he was calming down now. “I know. And I will get you a bowl of non-soggy cocoa puffs after we talk. I promise. By the way,” he reached over to the side table and picked up the phone, handing it to him, “call off work. This is going to take awhile.”

He took a shaky breath to calm himself, then dialed the phone while Jason sat him down on the couch. He could tell if was going to be a long, long emotional day. He better go grab some tissues and unplug the phone after he was done with this call.


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!

Also, as I work to play catch up from my latest computer crash, I will be posting the Shards of a prompt I missed from May and June directly to Wattpad each week. That means two Shards every week! Those old prompts will not be posted to my blog so if you wish to see the old one of the week, you’ll have to hop on over to my profile on Wattpad.

Since I’ve been focusing on editing with a deadline, the next oldest Shard has not yet gone up on Wattpad. Next week I’ll have the final two catch up Shards done and posted with links here!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final

Dragon Rider (Wednesday Words 7.20.16)

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 prompt 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.)

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

Dragon Rider

Lana stared at the front door of her cottage. Her free hand wrung her skirts nervously for a moment, knowing her husband was not going to take this news lightly. But it was what she wanted. It was the path and life she yearned to follow and be a part of. He would just have to accept that in the end.

If it was the end of their marriage, then it was the end. Though she dearly prayed he loved her enough to follow and abide her decision.

Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin up, adjusted her grip on the basket she was carrying, and pushed the door open, going inside. Blake was sitting near the fireplace, reading a book. He looked up as he heard the door open and set the book down immediately.

“Feet off the table, dear,” she scolded as their running joke. Every time he sat in that chair she always had to tell him to take his boots off the table.

He did so, standing up. “Where have you been? Market doesn’t take that long to travel to and come back from.”

“It does not,” she admitted, pulling her shawl off and hanging it on the post by the door rather slowly.

“Then where…? Lana, what is it?”

She bit her lip and set the basket down. A faint squeak emitted from within the parcel. Blake heard it and looked down at it.

“Lana?”

She fiddled with her skirts a little, looking up towards the ceiling. “We need to talk, Blake.” Her voice was soft and it concerned him.

“Is everything alright? What happened?”

Her gaze remained on the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in her world while her cheeks began to flush. “I may have accidentally sort of adopted some dragons.”

As if in response to her quick explanation, there was another faint squeak from within the basket and it rustled. Blake’s eyes widened as he stared at his wife in disbelief, then looked to the basket. He crossed to her and bent to the basket, picking it up and opening the lid. Inside he found two tiny dragonlings. One, a bright vibrant green, looked at him with beautiful amber eyes and squeaked, tail swishing. The other, a deep blood red, was snoozing away, puffing smoke rings from its nostrils as it laid curled up behind the green one.

Blake nearly dropped the basket in surprise, looking up to Lana. “What… How… Lana, when…” He couldn’t even form a full sentence as he stuttered.

Lana took a deep breath, gentle taking the basket from him and setting it on the kitchen table. She pulled out the green dragonling and it crawled up her arm to sit upon her shoulder, its ears and eyes flicking around, nose twitching as it took in all the sights and sounds of this new place. “Please, sit, Blake.”

He sat without protest, too shocked to think straight.

“Blake… I want to be a Rider.”

He gaped. “You…what?”

“I want to be a Rider,” she repeated firmly, finding her courage as she reached up and scratched under the dragonling’s chin. “I realize you may have a hard time accepting that and may wish me to back out of it, but I have made up my mind. This is what I want in life, this was my calling. To be a Rider. Sirath here has already chosen me to be his Rider.”

Blake stared at her in shock yet, looking to the green dragon perched on her shoulder like a cat, tail swishing yet. It stared at him as if daring him to dispute his claim on Lana.

After what felt like an eternity of holding her breath for his reaction, Lana let her heart beat again as Blake stood up and stood in front of her, taking her hands. He smiled. “Lana, I would never hold you back from your calling. I’m just surprised it took you this long to go for it, or for a dragonling to find you.”

Her breath caught in surprise, a slow elated smile stretching across her lips. “You mean that?” she breathed. Well she hadn’t been expecting that reaction from him.

“Of course.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her lovingly. “You will make a fine and fierce Rider. When do you head out for the Academy?” He tried to scratch at the little dragon who nipped at his finger, growling playfully. A faint wistfulness and sadness tinged his expression.

“Two days time,” she admitted softly. “I will miss you.”

“You will see me again, I will be waiting for you.” He kissed her again, then looked back to the basket as they heard another faint squeak. The red dragon had woken up and was now peeking his head out, staring at Blake with large indigo eyes. “So why did you come home with two dragons when only one claims you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a light shrug, nearly toppling Sirath off her shoulder. “The little guy refused to let me leave him. He kept waddling after me as I left, squeaking and growling for my attention. I thought perhaps Sirath and him were brothers.”

Blake tilted his head at the dragonling staring at him, then stepped back to the basket and almost hesitantly held his hand out to it. It sniffed at him, ears perking before it clambered out of the basket and jumped onto his hand. It began to crawl up his arm, making tiny rumbling noises within its chest. When it reached his shoulder, the dragonling poked his head into the collar of his shirt, winding his head down inside it.

There was a sudden squeak and red glow through Blake’s shirt as he tensed, heat rushing through his body and making him dizzy. The adrenaline-like rush ended almost as quickly as it came and he swayed, blinking to clear his head. Not that he needed to, everything suddenly felt…sharper.

“Blake?” Lana asked worriedly, her eyes wide as she stepped up to him.

He shook his head as the red dragonling pulled its head back out of his shirt and looked up at him with a tiny toothy grin, then nuzzled up against his neck, purring and rumbling away. He didn’t answer his wife right away as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt and pulled it aside to look at his chest. Right over his heart was the mark of a Rider.

“Blake…”

He finally looked back up to her slowly. “I guess I’m going to the Academy with you.”

Both dragonlings looked up at his words. They squeaked and flapped their wings excitedly, grinning at each other.


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!

Also, as I work to play catch up from my latest computer crash, I will be posting the Shards of a prompt I missed from May and June directly to Wattpad each week. That means two Shards every week! Those old prompts will not be posted to my blog so if you wish to see the old one of the week, you’ll have to hop on over to my profile on Wattpad.

The next oldest one from May 25th went live on Monday. You can find Gift of Sight on Wattpad!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final

Blind Bounty (Wednesday Words 4.6.16)

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 prompt based off a line to be used in the story. 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.)

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

Blind Bounty

“She is too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

Eammon groaned softly to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose at those stern and hissed words. This was getting tiresome. Their argument was beginning to wear on his patience just a fraction too much. They were all fools in this regard, too scared and hateful to really realize what was best to do. Blinded by years of fear and hatred brought on by the Dark One, and now passing it over onto her Heir.

Her Heir…

He hated thinking of Mistress Daemon like that. He still believed she had never wanted to be Ciara’s Heir. That what she really want had been twisted by that witch and then corrupted and exploited until she had fallen and given in. It was what the Dark One was good at, and though Kailyn was strong, she had traits that walked her straight into trouble despite how hard she tried to fight. Her hotheadedness did not help her case nine times out of ten.

His attention was pulled away by the conversation taking place once more, the five Councilors sitting around the table arguing what was to be done about her.

“We all know this softness she has shown now is nothing but a trick for her to demolish us with. She will come raging with power if we let our guard down too long. The hope of her defeating that witch was gone long ago at her first fall. We have a chance now, she is showing vulnerability after her reign. We must take it and kill her now, before it is too late.”

There were two eager nods in response, and one hesitant soul who didn’t move a muscle, save for flicking his conflicted eyes towards himself. Eammon frowned and tapped his fingers on the table top as he stared at the First Tier.

“We do not need to kill Daemon.”

The Head of the Council looked up to him with a sneer. “You only say that because you have a retched soft spot for the deceiving girl. She destroyed our town with a smile on her face. She killed and tortured with a sinister laugh. Are her actions not proof enough? Is her appearance change not enough for you to finally see she is nothing but the next Dark One?”

“No, it is not,” he replied calmly, staring him down. He knew he was walking on thin ice though. They could rule to dismiss him from his post as Third Tier for defending Kailyn, they could have him locked him and executed just as they were planning to do to her.

They were all so blind to what was really going on. There were so few in this town that saw the struggle and pain in those green eyes of Kailyn’s, everyone else saw what she had been taught to show: the mask of darkness. He hadn’t given up hope on her yet though, he would never do that.

“If you three were not blinded by your hatred for her, you would see she could overthrow Ciara.” The four of them flinched that he had actually used the Dark One’s name; not many were brave enough for that. “If only she had the help to back her instead of a town turning upon her every move in fear and hate. You are forcing her to choose how to survive, you are the ones along with this whole realm forcing her to turn to Ciara for the power to stay alive, and that is what is pushing her deeper. You are feeding Ciara’s fire, not Daemon’s. If the lot of you would grow a backbone–”

“Do you not dare speak to us as if we are cowards,” the Fifth Tier hissed, knocking his chair back as he leapt up and leaned over the table, glowering.

Eammon calmly turned his gaze on him, but they could see the anger in his charcoal eyes. “I am not the one jumping to assumptions, am I?” he countered levelly. “Perhaps you need to review your own views to see the harm this continued feud of hatred and fear has wrought upon our realm and sanity. It is not Mistress Daemon we need be fighting, it is Ciara. The Dark One herself. Daemon has done nothing but do what she must to survive. Perhaps, yes, she has slipped time again, but one can only be pushed so far before snapping and losing their light in an endless tunnel of darkness. For that is what this town, realm, and you all have done to her over the years.”

“That is enough!” The Head of the Council was out of his seat now, glaring daggers at Eammon and he knew the ice had begun to crack. “Maybe the problem is we have been ignoring part of the problem: you.”

He saw the attack coming and quickly got up and dodged the curse meant to stun him. The magic made a loud echoing crack in the high-ceiled chamber as it hit the stone wall behind him. The next curse came from the Fifth Tier, and he met the magic in midair with his own, resulting in a shower of light grey sparks colliding to the ground with another softer crack of impact. He was outnumbered, he knew that. Benet, the Fourth Tier, he knew would try to stay out of it, but the other three were fair game in attacking.

He may have been powerful enough by being the Third Tier himself, but there was only so many simultaneous attacks he could block at once, and after a short back and forth of colliding magic and dodging attacks in a deadly dance, the Second Tier’s curse finally found its target and threw him backwards.

“Guarda!”

Eammon hit the ground hard, stunned from the type of shockwave rolling through his body, but he still heard the First Tier yell for the elite group of guards and then the doors to the chambers open. Before he knew what was happening, he was being dragged up, his wrists shackled behind him and leaving his magic to blocked off by the rune upon them, then led off.

“You are making a mistake,” he called back even as he was roughly shoved forward. “Mistress Daemon will find a way to survive this bounty on her head, and you will see you only caused more trouble by your actions.”

The First Tier sneered after him. “She will give up when the Guarda capture her and she learns you are arrested as well. We may not make your death and flogging public, but she will see you die while she is locked up here in the dungeons, while she endures her own punishments for her crimes. Then she will be humiliated and whipped upon that platform out there in the square’s courtyard. Dallen will finally be free of one less evil upon her execution. Dallen will have a feast in the wake of her death.”

“Dallen will never be free of Ciara if you kill Daemon,” Eammon shot back as the chamber doors shut in his face and he was hauled off, praying silently that she would not be captured and tortured, or killed.

If only I had a way to warn her…


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

Mission Assassinate (Wednesday Words 2.3.16)

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 prompt based off a one line sentence required to be used somewhere in the piece. 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.)

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

Mission Assassinate

The horse’s hooves pounded across the forest’s bramble-layered floor in the dead silence of the night. Twigs snapped under the steed’s hoof prints and dirt was kicked up in clods behind his trail. His tail waved out behind him like a farewell goodbye as he galloped along, his long mane nearly whipping his rider in the face as she stayed hunched over his neck.

The sound of the hooves piercing the still silence made her cringe each time, terrified it was going to draw unwanted attention to her. She almost wanted to slow her horse down, to try to be as quiet as possible, but she knew time was of the essence: the farther away she got, the better odds she had of survival and escape.

It had been too close a call. Way too close a call.

It should have been a simple scale the castle walls, sneak into the King’s quarters, slit his throat, and silently disappear into the night without a single notice or trace. She had had it all planned out down to the smallest detail, had know the guard’s stations and patrol times and routes. She had known everything to be able to pull that assassination off without a single hitch.

Yet everything still went wrong.

“Fucking Queen,” she muttered darkly under her breath, making the horse’s ears flick back to her.

She shouldn’t have even been there. She was supposed to be on a trip with her son to meet a royal suitor to be betrothed to. Yet their departure had been delayed by only the Gods knew what, and she had walked in from the bathing chambers just at the exact moment she was slitting the King’s delicate throat.

Of course, she supposed it hadn’t been a total bust of a job. The King was dead. There was no way he would have survived her strike even if the blasted woman had screamed bloody murder in the middle of the slice and thrown her off guard.

It was a sloppy job, and she detested herself for not realizing the extra horses left in the stables meant they had never left, but what was done was done. She couldn’t change it now. She had to kill a few guards along route of her hasty escape after, but they were so unskillfully trained it had been a joke to dispatch of them — and they called themselves the King’s Guardsmen. She snorted.

In the end she had achieved her goal…

She grunted as the chestnut stallion stumbled on a rock, jarring her a bit and making her grit her teeth as pain shot through her arm.

Even if in the end it earned her fleeing with an arrow through her shoulder from the damned guard’s crossbow. She hadn’t seen him run out along the walls of the castle at the last moment as she stole the horse and pounded into the woods. Then again, every single guard had gone running when the Queen started shrieking and screaming of her beloved King’s sudden murder.

Beloved.

She snorted in spite. That woman no less loved that man for his so-called charms than for his riches. He was just a ticket to jewels and prestige. A leech. That’s what the Queen was, a blood-sucking leech. She should have thrown her dagger into the woman’s shrunken heart when she shrieked. That would have satisfied her more than just killing the King.

She cast a glance over her shoulder finally, her dark cloak flapping out behind her along the horse’s haunches like wings. She could no longer see the tower. That was good. No burning oil lamps could be seen through the trees either, and she didn’t hear any herd of horses pounding after her in the silence so that was also good.

It meant she had escaped with her life.

Her pride and reputation were a bit tarnished, but she still had her life. She could rebuild the reputation, maybe not her pride from her careless mistake, but she was one of the best assassins out there in the lands. There would be no trouble rebuilding that minor setback of reputation, it wasn’t like she had failed her task. The King was dead, she was as sure of that as the rivers of red that had cascaded down his night clothes and onto the pristine white sheets.

She gave a short bark of laughter, stretching up a little and tilting her head back to the endless night sky. Her steed started to slow slightly now that she knew she was in the clear more and she gave him a slap on the neck before gripping with her thighs and throwing her arms out — well, one arm, the other with the arrow in her shoulder she couldn’t raise so far.

“By Morrigan, the King is dead!” she laughed up to the stars and moon with a devilish grin. “Take that Elington!”

Her getaway steed snorted, tossing his head a little and she crouched back over his neck, taking a fist full of mane as she kept urging him towards the dense woods leading back to the Convent of Morrigan.

“And I even got a free steed out of it,” she chuckled to herself. It hadn’t been a total loss of a mission after all.


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

Cover made by @_teenagers on Wattpad