Friday Fictioneers: “Growing Pains”




Wow, I actually have inspiration to write something coherent this time? AND I have a new idea for Lorequest? Amazing.


Have fun~




Image Copyright: Luther Siler
Image Copyright: Luther Siler


Title: Growing Pains

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100



If mom says I’m having growing pains (or did she say I was the ‘growing pain’?), this duck is going to redefine the term. My little brother shouldn’t be playing with stuffed animals anymore anyway. An old remote-control robot of mine will wear this duck’s skin just as good.

I send my Frankenstein (which squeaks like a dog in pain) into Ronnie’s room, to scare the prissy girliness right out of him.

He squeals. I run to see, to laugh in his blubbering, snotty face.

But Ronnie’s hugging the stupid thing like it just gave him a kitten for Christmas.






Beeble dee bee, it’s off to bed with me!

Because I stayed up too late. Again. Too much to do on these stupid stupid Fridays.




Good luck, you brave writer folk!





Flash! Friday: “Refuge in Audacity”




I really am bad at naming things aren’t I? I tried to come up with some other “A” word that was more appropriate but then the reference might not have come across.


Have fun~




Title: Refuge in Audacity

Theme: Salvation

Setting: A palace guarded by lions

Word Count: 101


A great sound in the underground, my father and the dragon fight for the fate of the princess. But I don’t need stinking Prince Charmless to rescue me. The front door’s unlocked and the world’s ahead. Behind me, the swords and fire disappear as I fade into the forest.

The gravel crunches helloes at me and the trees are gnarled like my favourite grandparent (wish you were still here, grandma). At the end of the path, a crypt I think it’s called, has brave golden lions guarding it.

It’s not much of a castle, all alone out here, but it’s mine.







Man I’m tired. Like, tired all over at all points. As if I’m tired/exhausted at all points in time and space at once.

And it kind of sucks.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!





Friday Fictioneers: Lighter Than Air and Epi-Laughs




Well, due to my inability to decided which of these two stories I liked better, I’m just going to include both of them. The first one will be the one I “officially” submit since it is still 100 words and is, in my opinion, better writing than the pithy little snippets I included for the second one.

Also, good heavens just look at that second story’s punny name. It’s like a huge storm front of sheer pun just clobbered its way through a clear sky.


Have fun~




Image Copyright: Jean L. Hays
Image Copyright: Jean L. Hays


Word Count: 100

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Title: Lighter Than Air


My third-grade science class couldn’t handle me. I’m on the lam, no homework for me, thanks.

Cardboard is lighter than metal, light enough for wind will pick up like a kite. It’s the ideal wing material.

Icarus, Titanic, and Lead Zeppelin all sat on the handrail of the second-story balcony; I’ve heard those names all the time on TV, they must be good luck. Outside it’s a great day for science—windy with the sun setting like it’s ducking to make way. My matchbox cars are sitting with painted cardboard wings spread impressively wide.

Futuristic flying cars, here we come.






Word Count: 100

Genre: Comedic Fiction

Title: Epi-Laughs


Barnold McFetterer:

Father, son, unholy ghost. He brought joy to thousands through his films, even if it was totally unintentional.

Marshal Hopalop:

Writer, blogger, and the greatest worrier in all the world.

Richard Mallock:

“Go away! I’m dead already, aren’t I? Why do you all hate me so?”

Joseph Tollhort:

“Mary had a little knife, its blade was as sharp as death.”

Mary Tollhort:

“If my goddamn husband makes a snarky comment on his headstone, I’m going to kill him twice.”

Samantha Fairchild:

“Did you think I was kidding when I had pain in my gut? I’m giving God all your names.”

Ruby Thursday:

“Gone fishing— will be back on Judgement Day.”

Sir Jackson Black:

“There’s so much I still want to say, but they only gave me room for thirty words, so chalk that up another disappointment in my life. Alongside my novels, plays—”





Also, a year ago this month, my blog came back with its first Friday Fictioneers! Isn’t that something? I suppose in the literal sense it is in the way that everything is something. Well , when it gets closer to my anniversary of Friday Fictioneers, I’ll be sure to obnoxiously bring it up then. But on the other hand, Light Than Air has some of that young scientific adventure that The Necromancer (my first Friday Fictioneers) had.

I didn’t even plan it that way! And I have no excuse for Epi-Laughs. I’m still stuck on how terrible that pun was. It was just what I thought of first when I saw the cars in the ground like tombstones.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!





Flash! Friday: Shakespeare in the Shower




The three folks I admire most, Fictioneers, Flash!, and the Five-Sentences, they caught the last post for the coast on the day the month of June died.


Associating myself with Don McLean and using his lyrics as if I am anywhere near his equal- that’s reason 46 that I’ll be going to hell.


Eternal damnation aside, here’s my most recent Flash! Friday entry. I had a lot of fun with this one, considering how difficult the last one was. Plus I got to make a person absolutely miserable for the fun and enjoyment of others! That’s always a plus! And also reason 47 why I’m bound for hellfire!


Have fun~




Word of Inspiration: Writer

Title: Shakespeare in the Shower

Word Count: 210


Life is hard. Alright? I made some mistakes. Okay? Booze and blood were my vices. Hallucinations and wounds were my rewards. My therapist told me to try writing as a kind of “artistic nonsense therapy.”
But to write, I needed to read. Books are hard, so I turned to plays.

Yesterday I was just throwing out my trash. I never expected to find a man inside. I asked him why he was there.
“I am waiting,” he said.
“Please say its not for Godot,” I groaned.
“Nonsense. This is not my endgame.”
I slammed the steel lid down and rolled the can into the street. I hope the first horns I hear are the coroner’s.
This morning, I found Shakespeare in my shower (clothed, thank God). I promised him a painful death.
“All’s well that ends well,” he said.
“Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean I won’t strangle you.”
“As you like it,” he said.
And then he was gone, my hands choking open air.

Writing is surprisingly dangerous. It comes with the weight and ghosts of history; they cover me like dark iron skies filled with archer arrows.
I wrote that line down; I can use it in some writing. My life is just one big story, after all.







Frong: A totally made up absolutely legitimate word that is an amalgamation of “Frog” and “wrong.” It’s definitely not just the accidental slip of the finger while typing. But hey, it works for talking about not having a blue frog when one is desperately needed.


And that’s what I’m sticking with.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!




Five Sentence Fiction: Let the Day In




Okay, so I’m cutting this one a little close, but it’s just 1:30 here. That means I’ve been awake for about 4 hours only. I’m still waking up! I think this is my shortest Five Sentence Fiction ever but I felt this was the story that went best with the prompt word, so there you go!

Oh and I still haven’t forgotten about Lorequest. I’m going to start working on the next Shadow of the Colossus entries soon. Given how quickly I can churn them out if I really sick down and think about them, I can probably get Colossus #5 and #6 done in one or two sittings. I just have to convince myself that I should sit down for all that time and crank them out. That’s the real issue!

In the meantime, I may have a new short story to place up on here. Depends on if I totally botched the submission form to the contest I submitted it to and, let’s face it, I probably did.

It’s me, after all.


Have fun~




Word of Inspiration: Fresh

Word Count: 98

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Title: Let the Day In


“Let’s open up a window in here and let in the day, how does that sound?”

Steven doesn’t respond; I don’t know why I expected any different. Maybe it’s just hope again, seeping into my already waterlogged brain. Hope that one day that dear child will wake up and push his clinically-clean-cut bangs away from his eyes and say yes to me— he’ll say, “Yes dad, open the window.”

Instead, there’s just birds outside tweeting and flapping as if there wasn’t a single grain of sand in their feathers, not even the slightest weight to hold them down.






If cloning becomes totally viable and even easy eventually, will we even need people anymore? Couldn’t some totally mad-as-a-hatter person just kill all of us off and then clone a bunch of perfect human beings (nevermind that oxymoron) to take our places? I think about the ultimate fate of humanity and its impending replacement way too much. See The Mortal Efforts series and (when we finally get around to it [read as: God-knows-when]) Sewn Together to see how this interest has manifested itself.

I’ll just stew on that for a while while I prepare to write my next ever-so-cheery piece of flash fiction.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!