On Hiatus

When I started this blog, and all through maintaining it, I have been laboring under the delusion that I could maintain this as a side project while I wrote a novel. That hasn’t happened, I think that perhaps I’m the kind of writer who must focus on one thing at a time, or I loose my train of thought and give myself writer’s block.

Finding time to write is hard enough with a toddler, and with fibromyalgia, it takes me a lot of effort to keep on top of chores, and often migraines or chronic fatigue and what they call “fibro fog”, a difficulty concentrating, all seem to combine to limit my writing time.  Trying to find something to retweet that I haven’t retweeted lately is getting to be more difficult, and I’d really like to pull my act together and focus on finally writing a book.

I’ll still be around on my non-fiction blog occasionally, where I’ve already started a little discussion on the book and its inspiration, and I’ll be back here because I love writing flash. Just got to focus, and buckle down for a bit.


I couldn’t sleep with the need to see you, so I have come. You’ve held me captive from the moment we met, my mind is a prison dancing with your image, your song, your laugh. My thoughts know nothing else.

You are an artist in your seduction, flirting and flickering around me. Preening, then darting off coyly. You trap me with your enchantment, like a nymph, a will-o-the-wisp.

You gaze at me gently, your skin pales as your love trickles from your fingers in delicate lacework of red, pools at your feet that shiver with every drip, every tiny giggling plink.

Your graceful fingers reach out to touch me, then shy away, beckoning and flirting, the smile glimmering in your eyes as you pout and pretend to be upset, candlelight shining from your manacles like the brightest gems.

But soon you give way to me, relaxing against me in our embrace, weak to your desire. Your hips sway to the rhythm of your chains across the concrete, your movements rich with your love of turning all the world into a song as we dance together in this prison I have come to love.


Archeon Tarot Prompt: 9 of Swords. 196 words. More tarot stories.

P.S. – This repost brought to you by my current distraction with cats. New things will be coming, but I need to let a few things simmer while I research.

The Student

The love songs of the night gave way to the chatter of birds as the girl made her way across the prairie to the hut. Dew drops reflected the overcast sky, turning the field into a dreamlike silver, cut through with a green brush stroke winding behind her as her toes tickled the dew to the ground.

She watched a butterfly opening its wings in the rising dawn, fluttering lazily, enjoying a few more minutes in its silky floral bed. She was tempted to tease it on to her finger, but catching butterflies was a child’s game and she was too old for such things now.

Father had stopped howling. He was likely either dead or sleeping. The virus didn’t grant him much peace, she wasn’t sure which one she preferred.

Inside the hut, the smell had quieted down, grown more earthen. She would have expected something sour. Like when fruit turns to wine. This smelled more like mushrooms. He sat quietly, observing her as she observed him. He wasn’t breathing.

“I promised Mother I wouldn’t kill you. Do you remember Mother?” He was still enough to be made of stone. Except for those eyes, which were darker now. The irises were larger, large enough to be seeing rather well in the dim light. That explained why the monster had stuck to the shadows, his eyes were likely sensitive.

She opened the curtains, letting the dawn creep closer to the thing that used to be her father. The chains rattled as he shifted his weight away from the light, but there was no other reaction. Interesting. That implies physical distress, but not at a critical level.

“We never did spend a lot of time together, Father. I think I will remedy that. I propose a partnership. You shall teach me exactly how to defeat the plague. I pray I don’t cause you too much discomfort in the process.”


Zombie Tarot Prompt: Page of Swords. More tarot flash stories over here.

P.S. – I really thought I would do more Grim’s List prompts in October, but I guess my life is too busy right now to have multiple writing projects. I’d like to spend some time focusing on just one thing until something important to me is more developed, so I might do some reposts (like this one) for a few weeks.