Friday! Friday! Friday! …Fictioneers!

It’s been a bit since I’ve visited my friends at Friday Fictioneers. I follow several blogs on WP and a short story popped up in my email which was prompted by FF. So, I mistakenly read it. And it was damn good! I say mistakenly because I want to throw my literary hat in th ring but I always like to write before I read others’s stories for the simple fact of seepage. Seepage! Their great stories will seep into my own in one way or another. So, in an effort to see just how seeped and steeped by others’ reads mine might be, I’m sayin’ screw it! I’m writin’ my own anyway. So, the prompt is followed by the story. It’s titled She Decided and comes in just under 100 words.

The prompt:


The story:

“I can’t,” she said, her breath hit my lips. It was as if we’d never separated. That kiss was the one I fell in love with so long ago. Some things are cosmic. In the stars. Meant to be. From the first kiss, I knew there was a God. Meg fell so in line with everything I ever wanted to be. If there was a reason for me to be, she was it.

“I know, Babe. And I’ve always respected that. I’ll never ask you to have milk in your coffee. You are vegan.” With me, she can be anything.

So, yeah, a sappy love story about coffee. Sue me! Sorry it’s not a cup of raging murderous coffee for Halloween. Have a great one, y’all.

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All Hallow’s Speakeasy!

All Hallow’s Eve approacheth! It’s been a bit since I’ve checked out or written anything for the Speakeasy Challenge. So, today, I did. Their prompt: What went bump? Use that phrase in the story or answer the question. So, here goes at about 530 words:

What Goes Bump Must Come Down

So, here’s how it went down. We went to the ‘hood, right? Where else will you find a vial of crack at two a.m.? So, yeah, pipe in hand, I was more than ready. We turned onto Stephenson Avenue. “Why you turnin’ here? You know nobody’s ever on this street,” my argument for wasting the little gas remaining in the tank. “Go back to Newcomen. He’s probably there now.” Sure enough, as we turned the corner, there was Charlie waiting.

“Okay, I’m not really likin’ this anymore, man. I don’t want my car to be minus windows. Or get shot!” Audra emoted.

“Dude, chill the fuck out! Ain’t nobody gonna shoot us!” I admonished.

Suddenly, she heard it, apparently. I however did not. “What the fuck?! What went bump?”

“Your brain. Shut the fuck up! Here he is! Gimme the cash,” I admonished again. “‘s up, Charlie?” as we pulled up to the man.

“What’s you got?” he asked.

“Forty. And, man, I want a good forty, too! You skimped a little last time, dude.”

“I gotcha.”

“I know you got me! You got me good last time! Got me for forty with a dime rock!” I chuckled. He was little amused. After all, his risk of selling was far greater than my buying. And, as it would happen on Halloween night. Yes, the scariest event of my life. As we pulled away, the blue lights flashed from the front of us. Five-O heading right at us. Fucker had the nerve to block us in. “Oh hell no! I’m hittin’ this motherfucker and this cop can kiss my ass! If I’m goin’ to jail, I’m goin’ to jail high!” I blazed up, ducking my head out of view. The crack smoke boiled out of my mouth and hit the windshield.

“Oh Jesus god, you just don’t give a fuck, do you?!” Audra yelled. The cop backed up, burst a siren blast and reversed direction. He then sped off. We looked at each other in total disbelief. “What the hell was that?” She yelled.

“That went bump! Along with the lump in my throat and my heart about to bang through my chest! But damn, that’s some bad ass dope Charlie just hooked us up with!” I yelled in relief.

“What went bump?” she was confused.

“Shut the fuck up and hit this pipe before I decide to take your hit.”

“I really don’t understand what just happened,” Audra admitted. She said this as we sped off toward the main artery of Hall Road. High, we rode the planes of cocaine ecstasy in a major five minute head rush. After both our second hits, the thrill was gone. We then figured out why the cop sped off. Our other dealer, Slugger, sped past at about ninety miles an hour, two cops on his ass. About the time he turned onto Newcomen as we turned onto Hall, another self righteous boy in blue blew the stop sign at the cross street and plowed his ass into a yard. And, of course, I had to say it, “What went bump?” Audra looked at me with the ‘shut the fuck up’ look.

There you have it! An odd story, I suppose, but fun for me to write nonetheless! Take care, y’all. And if I don’t see y’all before then, Happy Halloween!

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Dream Catching: Episode Two – Monetary Lapse of Reason

Mallory chased a duck. Her day off, she spent most moments listless – the toll of overwork and underpay. Little joy came in little funds. She firmly believed that, no, money did not buy happiness. But it could sure buy a lot of comfort. Where was her knight? Why and how were others so happy in what seemed to be misery from the outside looking in? Well, maybe not bursting with joy with the hills being alive but how did they even make it through a day on a shoestring budget that seemed to shrink moment by penniless moment. Everyone she knew, practically, had money problems of some sort. Neighbors went about jobless. Friends lived tight, often on nothing more than Ramen Noodles. Life of the poor was just that – poor. From where does happiness come?

She chased a duck by the Alcoa duck pond. Cheap entertainment with bread scraps. She was trying her best to feed the duck. The duck would not cooperate. She finally sat on a bench out of breath. The next few breathless moments reached out their hands.

“I’m dying,” he said.

Mallory looked over to find a very young, very handsome man sitting beside her. “Excuse me?” she asked. “Are you taking to me?”

He grinned. “Yes. No one else here, right?”

“I . . . I’m sorry,” she said. Her stomach shrank. Her penniless problems shrank with it. She suddenly felt for this man. Did he have no one? Why was he telling a complete stranger? Was this some sort of hustle or trick? Skepticism fell away as she looked at his eyes. They seemed to harbor no fear or sadness at the his terminal state. What did he want from her? “What happened? How are you dying?”

“I’m dying of a broken heart.”

“Oh god,” she thought, “Nut job on the loose.”

“Well, and cancer,” he chuckled. “Which is ironic. I was born under the star sign of Cancer. Strange, huh?”

“Wow. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. How far advanced is it?” she said, genuinely concerned. She turned again to his eyes, her long brown hair flowed in a light breeze. The October day shrank to nothing but his words and his eyes – too confident, almost, to be that of a dying man.

“It is too far. There’s nothing they can do,” he said. “I’m kind of relieved. Is that bad?” He asked the question and she fell. Cupid had a sick sense of humor. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to hold this man. He sighed. “The only thing: who will take care of Lester?”

“Is . . . Lester your child?”

“Yes. He’s actually in the car. Would you like to meet him?”

“Sure.” She didn’t even know his name. Happiness however is nameless, really. It just is. It’s either present or it’s not. And when true happiness is present, it just tends to live. To just be. Kind of like this man’s steadfast confidence he carried in the glint of his eyes. They walked to his car. A very small something was skittering about in the front seat. Finally she got a long look at the something – a very small monkey. Startled, “Is that a spider monkey?”

“Close. A marmoset. Lester, meet . . . uh . . .”

“Mallory. Nice to meet you Lester. And what is your name?”

“I’m Larry. My friends call me Tree. I was the tallest in my family and the name just stuck.”

“Okay, Tree.” For a brief moment, pennies mattered very little. “Hey, would you and Lester like have some tea, maybe? Or coffee? Or hot chocolate?”

Larry smiled. “That would be nice. Where at?”

Twenty minutes and no clothes later, Lester decided to stay at Mallory’s. A few weeks after, a terminal man promised the love of his life that she would see him again. And Mallory knew happiness could never come from a paycheck.

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Dream Catching: Episode One – Little Deaths

Episode One – Little Deaths

“So, it’s preparation,” Kylie the Grifter stated.

“Perhaps,” Edwin the Seeker stated.

“A prelude?”


“Hm. Well. Too narrow?” Kylie the Grifter asked, insinuating his questions may have missed the mark. Or not insinuating so much as down-right asking. Laying it out – guilty of ignorance or not. The Seeker knew. There were no ignorant questions. The old cliché of ones never asked . . . Well, the Seeker knew as did the Grifter. They knew because they didn’t. They knew they knew nothing. One knows truly nothing. We are impressionable and we experience. We are bent, however. Skewed. In the thick of it, we view life and circumstance through a twisted lens. A mind so vast and advanced, yet, so unknown at the same time. As much as we know about our brains’ concept of reality, there is a thousand times as much ambiguous unknown – a universe of unknown. We are a collection and collaboration of experiences, tendencies, habits, preferences, genetics, memories (ours as well as our ancestors).

“No, not necessarily. Life is not a walkthrough rehearsal. It is as was said by a great philosopher of our time. ‘This life is more than just a read-through.’” The Seeker often guided. Showed and not told. Often he led. He did not point out necessarily so much as letting the Grifter come to his own conclusions. They had the understanding – the Grifter learned from the Seeker and the Seeker learned from himself. But the Seeker never acted haughtily about that fact. He by no means ever talked down to the Grifter, despite the Grifter’s moral choices, on this or any night.

“Hm. Is that Freud?” the Grifter asked.

“No. Anthony Kiedis. Front man for the Red Hot Chili Peppers!” the Seeker grinned. “See, it is like the fact of this maple leaf that you and I are currently floating on.”

“Dude, are we Canadian?”

“Not tonight. But may have been in the past, or will be in the future. So, when we come to stop at our port of destination on this river and this leaf leaves our lives, it will definitely have a place interwoven in the universe and our memory. It will crop up out of nowhere from a smell or word that you and I, one night in October, took a ride on her river of memories and imprinted our own. Here. Now.”

“Then what is the broad spectrum?”

“You answered your own question. It is indeed a spectrum. It is this. All the systems shutting down at once. Your mind on rewind. Total rest – physically, mentally, emotionally. So much so that these things take on lives of their own in dreams. A man riding a giraffe with a spider monkey on his back. Does this necessarily mean anything? Yes. Something. Is it necessary to my health and well being to know what this means? No.”

“Good. Because our ride is over. Docked. We are here,” Kylie the Grifter exited the maple leaf he and Edwin the Seeker rode to the port. Edwin decided to stay on the leaf as it began to sink. He, for whatever reason, decided to go down with his ship. And the Grifter let him and applauded as he sank. “Hurry back!” The Grifter yelled.

Cold sweat rolled off of Mallory’s neck as she awoke from the odd dream. Time to wake. She shook off the memory of maple leaves and rivers, and began her day.


Sunday Photo Fiction – It’s on!

So, it is Monday morning and Sunday Photo Fiction has posted another picture prompt challenge. Their challenge – a story based on the photo in 200 words or less. So, without further adieu, here goes my hat flying into the ring! The title of this piece: Nickels and Dimes.

The Prompt:




The Story:

Nickels and Dimes

Her brain operates like a mood ring. One minute life couldn’t be better. The next minute the temperature changes by two degrees negatively and then it’s on! Everything is black. I came to this conclusion after the wrecking ball struck. We sat contently conversing one minute, the next her mood for one reason or another changed on a nickel or dime – not sure which but whichever, it was cheap! She pulled no punches. All of a sudden I’m an adulterer. I’m cheating on her because of one lousy business card that I couldn’t rightfully explain in that particular moment. I didn’t remember where it had come from at the time. “Who is Hilda Hauer?!” The hell if I could remember! Then, after the fight, after she had gone, after the pressure was off, I remembered. A building downtown on Broadway was being demolished. I was walking and had stopped to watch, as had Hilda Hauer. She gave me her card and told me if I ever needed my pipes cleaned to let her know. She had just gotten her plumber’s license. I’m glad now that I didn’t remember. Another woman cleaning my pipes may not go over so well.

For most men, probably not far from the truth! Have a great day, y’all.




It’s Been Awhile…

It’s been awhile since I’ve been around. A torrent of personal issues good, bad and crazy have impeded my blogging. Hey, I’m an artist. I totally expect nothing less! It’s all good, though. I’m going to try to come around a bit more often now. I’m also shifting my focus from the slackin’ ass government we currently have to more . . . productive issues. Like art! And writing! Because after all this is an art blog, although, past has been a hodgepodge of everything. Like an eclectic melting pot of everything and anything that struck my fancy or hit society below the belt.

At any rate, I’m going to attempt to stay focused. More art and writing and less rhetoric about or slackin’ ass government being in bed with the CIA and corporate dollars. (That’s the last you’ll hear about it . . . probably.)

I’ve kicked out some new art and when I get the means to post, I certainly will! Good to see y’all again. (Smiley face!)

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So, You Need a Change?

We’re going to be shuffling things around here within the next few days to a week. Revamping and shakin’ things up! I’m sending some of my short stories off for publishing and some of the requirements is that they not be published anywhere else.

So, to that end, I need to delete some on the short stories and poetry. I’ll hopefully crank out some new stuff soon, though. I was thinking of making Life’s Glow three part series a constant on here as in more parts, say weekly – Margaret and her sister are just awesome characters to write for. Not sure yet, though. I’ll keep you posted!


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