Fallen Apple – Flash Fiction

I didn’t know who she was, but she definitely wasn’t my mother. Not anymore.

“Stop it mom! You’re hurting me.”

“I’ll stop when you give me your money!”

“I told you I don’t have any.” I was lying through my teeth, but it was for her own good.

“Don’t lie to me Ally, I know you worked today! Ray saw you!”

“Ray is as strung out as you mom. He thought he saw a clown in his cereal yesterday!”

“Then where were you, HUH?!”

“At Laney’s… Swimming,” I winced as my mom slapped me across the face, causing me to stumble backward. Everything went black for a minute after a loud THWACK. The sound of my skull hitting the concrete wall of the garage made me want to vomit.

“Look at me!” I looked in the direction of her voice, seeing nothing but purple spots around a thin frail figure. I slumped to the ground, holding back tears. She couldn’t see me cry. I won’t give her the satisfaction.

“If you don’t give me that money I swear you’ll be homeless!”

“If I give you that money we’ll all be homeless! Who do you think has been paying our rent?”

“You’ve been hording money from me? You little witch!”

“I keep us in this crap hole! I work my butt off for you!” I could see her now, the spots almost gone. My sick mother stood in front of me, a mere shell of who she used to be. Her dry cracked lips spread in an evil grin and with a dark look in her sunken-in, blood shot eyes; she reached down and grabbed me by the collar, the look of attack displayed on her pale face. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days. She’ll probably be binging soon.


I shook my head, dazed and confused. I looked into the face of my daughter Marissa. What just happened? I took in my surroundings. We were in a bathroom, my hands clutched around Marissa’s collar, fear in her eyes. The memory of my childhood had been so strong, trance like.

“Mom, let me go!”

I glanced past her at the mirror on the wall, catching a glimpse of a battered woman. Her were eyes sunken in, her skin was puce in color. The face staring back at me was not my own. It was then that I realized, I had become my mother.



This was the second story I submitted to FINISH THAT THOUGHT #2-44. The story didn’t place but here is what the judge had to say about it.

Fallen Apple – realmommaramblings – Wow! Opening with raw dialogue and ending with a clever perspective switch, this story depicts the erosive power of addiction. After enduring hardships a daughter shouldn’t have to survive, the protagonist succumbs to her past demons, proving that the apple truly doesn’t fall far from this rotting tree. So sad.” – Foy S. Iver


Gravity- Flash Poetry

Here is my entry in #3linethursday.


Photo by Natalie Bowers

Photo Prompt by Natalie Bowers

Tired so tired
Ever falling t’ward the earth
She can’t anymore

Cayla’s Worst Fear- Flash Fiction

This is the prompt for Flash Frenzy over at The Angry Hourglass.

I did not enter it because I was too busy to write a story during the allotted time. Unfortunately most of these events are on the weekend which is my busiest time of the week. But That’s not going to keep me from trying them out just for the enjoyment of writing.

photo courtesy Ashwin Rao

photo courtesy Ashwin Rao

Cayla’s Worst Fear

Cayla knew that something wasn’t right when she walked in the front door. The familiar cracking and popping of her grandmother’s record player filled the stale air. There was a slight burnt smell coming from the kitchen.

“Grandma? It’s Cayla….you in the bathroom?” No answer.

Cayla made her way to the kitchen. There on the stove was a pot, bone dry, burner still on. She turned it off quickly, dropped her book bag on the floor and hurried to the living room.

“Grandma?” Still no answer. Smokey stretched and arched on the couch and hopped off, prancing over to greet her.

“Where’s your momma?” She reached down to pet him. Purring, he leaned into her hand. Walking over to the record player she stepped on something crunchy…cereal. Her grandmother would never have left anything on the floor. She was the cleanest women she knew, obsessed with having everything just so. Nor would she have left a pot on the stove unattended.

Something’s wrong. She thought to herself, starting to panic.

“Grandma! Where are you?” Her voice cracked with worry. She ran down the hall and into the bathroom. The light was on, but the room was empty. Too preoccupied to worry about turning off the light, she ran up the stairs to her grandmother’s room.

“Grandma?” She ripped the door open, frantic now, and froze. There her grandmother lay, quiet and still. Too still.

Tears welled up behind her eyes, a small cry stuck in the back of her throat. She knew what she would find when she leaned in to kiss her forehead. Cold.

She looked peaceful.

Cayla’s heart ached. The tears, now free falling, dropped onto her grandmother’s cheek. She wiped them off and stepped back from the bed. Her only friend lay lifeless in front of her. She was utterly alone.


Word Count: 306

Revenge- Flash Fiction

Here is my entry in last week’s Flash Friday! Prompt.  We were to write a story inspired by the photo and with the theme of Aspiration.

Whetting Interrupted, 1894. Public domain painting by Jose Ferraz de Almeida Junior.

Whetting Interrupted, 1894. Public domain painting by Jose Ferraz de Almeida Junior.



The last time I saw my father I was ten years old.

I was terrified, my dress wet from running through the stream to our hut.

“Stay inside with your brother. Don’t come out until I come back for you.” His eyes betrayed that he was worried. I remember nodding in obedience, holding my baby brother, shivering.

He shut the door and ran down the path, clutching his axe. The only weapon he had would never be a match for the beast. Shrill screams filled the smoky air. I tried to calm my brother who was now crying and wriggling out of my arms. I tightened my grip, brought him to our bed, and crawled underneath.

“SHHH. It will be OK.” I knew it wouldn’t. The smell of charred flesh and burning wood filled the hut. I all but choked on the stench. We eventually fell asleep after the screams stopped. My father never came back.

As I stare at myself in the water, I can see the weight on my shoulders, slightly slumped with years of hard labor. It’s been 8 long years of tyranny under the reign of these beasts.

Tightening my belt, sword at my side, I head to the mountains. Today I seek my revenge.


Word Count- 209

Rumors – Flash Poetry

So last night, or this morning rather, when I was woken up by one of my littles and couldn’t get back to sleep, I came across Three Line Thursday. Yesterday’s prompt was so intriguing, and since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to come up with something. To my disappointment, however, I missed the dead line.  For this challenge we were given a photo prompt and were to write something about it in three lines with the max of 10 words per line. As a special challenge we were not allowed to use the words Fire, Burn, or Flame.


 With slanderous words

Spreading, ever furious

She got her revenge

The Unknown – Flash Fiction

This bit o’ fiction was in response to Warmup Wednesday. We were to write a story or scene of exactly 100 words inspired by the photo prompt. The challenge was to give the protagonist a physical disability of some kind. This prompt was just for fun. No judging or winners. Good practice. I fully intent to enter an actual event soon.

CC, Photo by darkday

CC, Photo by darkday

The Unknown

Laney’s head buzzed.

She couldn’t remember where she was.

Everything was dark. Although, it was always dark for Laney, but her other senses were “darkened” as well.

The buzzing was so loud she couldn’t hear anything. Her nose was clogged with something…dirt.

She had been running then, nothing.

She got up, light headed, and felt around. A hole. She was in a hole. She couldn’t feel the top.


No one answered.

She didn’t remember anything.

Where am I?


The buzzing got louder.

Laney hesitated, scared of the unknown.

She had to get out. So she climbed.



Disconnected – Flash Fiction

My first attempt at flash fiction. This is in response to a prompt by The Angry Hourglass. The challenge was to write a story inspired by the photo prompt and it had to be 360 words or less (title not included). I didn’t enter the contest because I missed the deadline. Plus this is my first flash fiction so I wanted to just post it and see what people thought. Please feel free to comment. Let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is welcomed. Anything to improve my writing.

photo courtesy Ashwin Rao

This was the Photo Prompt. Photo courtesy Ashwin Rao




“Come on!” Logan said, slightly agitated. They had been going to the corner store but stopped along the way six times so Hank could take pictures. He was obsessed with his new phone and was convinced that he had to take as many pictures as he could and post them to build his “following”.

“Just a minute, I need to get this shot.”

Logan let out a sigh hoping his brother would hear his impatience. He kicked the wall, putting his hands in his pocket. The fall air was crisp and cool  and the morning breeze brought the smell of leaves to Logan’s nose. Taking a deep breath, he let out another sigh.

“OK, got it.” Hank started walking again, his head bent down still staring at his phone. Logan watched his brother in amazement as he avoided every obstacle without even looking up. A trash can, a dog lifting his leg on a parking meter, a plastic cup.



Logan hesitated. He didn’t know how to broach the subject but it had been eating at him all night. He looked over at Hank, still lost in his phone, and wondered if it bothered him too. It didn’t seem to. Nothing seemed to bother him. As long as he had his friends and his followers, Hank never seemed to care about anything else.

“Do you think mom and dad are gonna get a divorce?”

“What? Why?”

“Because they have been fighting. Last night they were screaming at each other for the third night in a row.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.” Just as he said that Logan yanked on his arm, pulling him over a few feet.

“Hey! Why did you do that?”

Logan pointed behind Hank at a runner that was disappearing around the corner. Hank shrugged and went back to his phone, not seeming to care that he almost collided with her. Logan kicked a pebble out of his path and pulled the door to the store open. Hank went in, still not even looking at his surroundings.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. They always fight. Hey look! Fifty likes in three minutes!”




(Word count: 355)




A Change


Daily Prompt: If  You Leave

“Life is a series of beginnings and endings. We leave one job to start another; we quit cities, countries, or continents for a fresh start; we leave lovers and begin new relationships. What was the last thing you contemplated leaving? What were the pros and cons? Have you made up your mind? What will you choose?”


I now know that I was not meant to be a stay at home mom. At least not full time. I recently decided that I needed to leave my house and do something for me.

Having a job might not seem like a break to most but to me it means socialization and getting to talk to people older than 4!

Sometimes a mom needs to talk to someone who has a grasp on the real world for a change.

Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mom and staying home was what was best for us in the beginning. But this momma needs a break. To get out of the house and feel like I’m contributing.

Yes raising children is a job on it’s own and is very important and I am not trying to make any stay at home mom feel unimportant.

Some people just  aren’t cut out for the stay at home life. I am one of those people. I start to feel stifled if I’m doing the same things over and over. I get antsy and bored and need a change.

Thus the search for a part time job began.

After two weeks of handing in countless applications I walked into the last place on my list handed in the application and unknowingly  handed it to the hiring manager. She took one look at it and said, “Can you come in next week for an interview”? Praise the Lord! It was like it was meant to be.

I had the interview yesterday and I start next week!

I am going to miss my kids at nights, but it really is what is best for us I think.



(No this is not me. But is my job.) Photo Credit: www.peoplesinsight.com

(No this is not me. But is my job.)
Photo Credit: http://www.peoplesinsight.com




I am a procrastinator. There is no sense in denying it. It is who I am through and through.

When I was younger and my mother gave me chores I would always wait until my mom was screaming at me to “stop watching TV and do the dishes!” Of course that is probably pretty normal for kids. There is always something more interesting to do than washing dishes or folding laundry. Heck, I’m an adult with children of my own and I still wait till the last minute to do dishes.

I must confess I am even guilty of spending the day watching TV with my boys, surfing the web, reading and playing around and then I glance up at the clock and see that Running Man man will be home in a half hour. So I hurry into the kitchen and do a load of dishes so that the dish drainer is full and quickly sweep the floor or vacuum so it looks like I was productive.

I am actually guilty of that often.

When I was in school and we had a week to do a project I was always frantically doing it the night before, staying up late and worrying that I wouldn’t get it done. But I always did and usually got a decent grade. Same with tests. I usually studied the night before and sometimes that day in study hall right before the class. I’d usually get a good grade but because I would just cram I didn’t retain much of what I learned and I don’t really remember much of anything now.

Procrastination has always been a viscous cycle and always causes me grief and worry when I wait till the last minute. I always panic and freak out but then I finish it and realize “wow that wasn’t so bad. I wish I would have done it earlier!” But I never do. I could say I never learn but I do, I just don’t put it into practice. I know that if I do things in a timely manor I’d save myself a lot of stress but I just never seem to be able to.

It is my curse.