It’s too hot in here

photo by Dan Carlson

photo by Dan Carlson

My racing thoughts burn through my mind

The heat is too much to bear

So I succumb, obey, repeat – Silence… but for a moment


Written for Three Line Tales, Week Twenty-five 

One Love, Forever.

“But Now I must sleep.”

“In the cemetery?” Cara shuttered, whether from the chill in the air or fear she couldn’t tell. Either way she did not want to stop here for any reason.

“It’s as good a place as any.” Peter sighed as he lowered his weary body to the soft earth.

“You can’t rest there. That’s someone’s grave.”

Peter ignored her and stretched out his limbs, lying on his back. Cara looked at the man in front of her, this man she barely knew. The day he walked into her small town was the day nothing else mattered. He was perfect in every way. His long dark hair, his tall stature. His skin seemed to glow in the sun.

Cara jumped from a sudden surge in her toes. Peter’s cool skin brushed hers as he slowly traced his hand over the delicate bones of her foot.

“This is what I want to remember, these moments with you. Uninterrupted by the world and its cruel ways.”

He always seemed to talk as if he was saying goodbye. Was he going to leave her? She sat beside him wanting to close the gap between them. As if reading her mind he pulled her down so that their bodies were as close as they possibly could be. The energy was undeniable, raging yet sad all at once. Why did it feel like an ending every time they were together?

“I will always love you,” He whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep with his hands still stroking her hair.

As the sun rose from behind the hill peter rose from his resting place, grimacing as his joints groaned in agony.

“Until later, my Love.”

Peter hobbled away, turning to look at the grave again.

Cara Moreau



This story got an honorable mention over at Microcosms. A big thanks goes out to the judge, Geoff Holme.

Your Face Paint is Dripping

Photo by:  kazuend

Photo by: kazuend

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

or so they say

But not every mask can hide the blurred lines of deception


A few more lines. This time for Three Line Tales, Week Twelve.

A few lines

I know I have been away for quite awhile. Life has made it difficult for me, as of late, and writing has been pushed to the wayside. I promise to be back soon with more, but for now, here are a few short lines in honor of TLT Throwback.  


She saw everything clearly
Teetering on the edge
If only she had wings

First Publication in Print!

This morning I received an email letting me know that my entries were accepted for a local literary arts journal to be published in my home town!

The Bridge Literary Center is dedicated to the prosperity of the literary arts in Franklin and the greater Western PA region.”( copied from their site.) This will be their second journal (I believe).  This time I get to be a part of it!! So exciting!

Now to go write my mini bio. Ugh, I’m not the greatest at those.

A Library Pickup Line

Your shelves are like deep pools of stories

told only to me

I willingly drown in your words


Written for Three Line Tales: Week Five


My mind

Holds onto fears

Folds them up and keeps them



I was born this way

But I can break this code


And freely live


Written for #wispwrit

Prompt: Born

The Tea Party

CFFC Trophy


I woke up this morning to find out that my story WON over at Cracked Flash! Exciting!

Our story had to start with the following sentence:

Sometimes, people really are just useless.

I’ll put the judges comments at the end of the story. I must say, one thing that sets them apart from other competitions is that they are not afraid to point out things that need improvement. They had some very helpful critiques. I appreciate that. While I like hearing that my story was good, I also want to improve as a writer and if there is something I can do to make the story great, I want to know about it.

I must confess I really struggled with the 300 word limit. I had to make some deep cuts which did affect the desperation of the piece as Si pointed out.

So, here is the original story. I will work on it and post the revised version when I am satisfied. (That could take a while.)


The Tea Party

“Sometimes, people really are just useless. Cheese?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Clara stared at the strange man in front of her. A moment ago she was having tea with her boyfriend and listening to him talk about work. But this man was definitely not her boyfriend.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

“Would you like some cheese? It pairs well with your tea.” Reluctantly, she opened her eyes to see a big grin stretch across the stranger’s face farther than a grin should. A large hat dipped over his crazed eyes as they darted from her to the other guests at the table.

“Who are you? The Hatter?”

“Of course not, dear. The Hatter is a copyrighted name. You can call me Mr. Chapeau.”

“I’ll take some cheese,” Clara turned to see a rabbit sitting upright in a white gown.

“Where is Jason?”


“Jason, my boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, dorky tortoise shell glasses.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. It’s my birthday you know,” the man with the hat said.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Clara jumped at the exclamation that rang out from a tiny mouse in a tea pot.

Did I fall down a rabbit hole? Where was Jason? He was just here.

“HEY!” She shouted over the loud singing that had commenced around her. “Please! Where is Jason!”

They all stopped and stared. She realized, now, that she was standing with a cheese knife held over her head. A small pinch in her shoulder made her go limp, falling into the arms of a strong woman.

“Take her to the holding cell.” A nurse said as she took a pencil from Clara’s fingers and walked out behind them. “Poor girl just can’t get over his death. Best keep her out of the common room for a while.”




Judges Comments:

Si: I loved the rambling, unexplained craziness of this story. No info dump, just bewildering weirdness until it’s all explained in the end. Of course she’s crazy!
Good clean dialogue and I liked the personalities of all the strange characters we come across. The disjointedness of the dialogue: “Doesn’t ring a bell. It’s my birthday you know,” works very well for setting the atmosphere of confusion that Clara finds herself in. One thing I would recommend is increasing the tension of the story just a little–make us feel not only Clara’s confusion, but also desperation. I liked the Alice in Wonderland references–good connection there!–familiar to the reader, but we don’t know where you’re going with it until the twist ending. Great job giving us just enough dialogue from the Nurse to get what’s going on, quickly setting the REAL scene. Favorite line: “Of course not, dear. The Hatter is a copyrighted name. You can call me Mr. Chapeau.”, very funny. We can really feel Clara’s bewilderment throughout the story! Excellent job!
Mars: “The Hatter is a copyrighted name,” got a chuckle out of me! The Alice-is-insane has been done before (though it’s Clara in this instance), but it’s usually not done with any sort of levity like this piece is. I appreciate the allusion to Disney’s Alice in Wonderland (though I’m going to have “Merry Merry Unbirthday” stuck in my head now); I am very fond of references.
Watch out for how names are juxtaposed next to dialogue–“‘I’ll take some cheese,’ Clara turned to see a rabbit” could infer that either Clara or the rabbit were speaking, particularly with the comma there that runs into her name. The problem occurs once more later, when the mouse yells from the tea pot.
The beginning of the piece was a nice touch; it utilized the prompt in a unique fashion by making it sound like idle small talk, then drew the reader’s (and Clara’s) attention with the question, “Cheese?” Nice job!

And She Does

On Friday everything changed. I was no longer the little girl my father adored. I was a bargaining chip, a promise for a deal.

My view of this world had finally been unveiled, reveling many shades of greed.

I looked at the man smiling in front of me. I could see his plans written in the corners of his mouth, reflected in the dark chocolate windows to his rotting soul.

As I said my vows in the room of silent witnesses, I made a secret one of my own.

One day I would kill this man, setting free the world.



This is the second (read first one here) story I submitted for the Flashverary contest over at Flash! Friday.

Our story requirements:

Must be exactly 100 words

Must start with “On Friday everything changed