No Chance of Return

******Warning – Little dark and violent here.************


With trembling fingers I called for help. Rick lived close by, and I prayed he could help me before I wound up dead, or worse.

“God, please let him answer,” I whispered.

He picked up, “Hey Amy. When I said we needed to crunch the numbers immediately, I didn’t mean now. It can wait…”

“Rick! HELP ME please! He’s here somewhere and I think he drugged me. Oh my God. He’s coming, I know it!”

“What? Are you at your house?”

“Yes! Please hurry. I’m scared and can’t really walk. My head is spinning. I feel like I am going to faint.”

“I’m coming Amy. It will be OK.  I’m only a few blocks away. I was out running. Stay on the phone with me. Tell me what happened.”

“After taking a shower, I had a glass of wine from that basket you all left me.”

“We didn’t leave you any wine basket Amy.”

“I know THAT now! He left me a note. It was mixed in with the mail. He said he’d be here when I woke up from my wine nap. Oh my God. He must have poisoned it! He’s coming…here. I thought I lost him….I….can’t do this….not again. Oh God.” I started to hyperventilate and shake worse.

“I’m coming Amy. I won’t let him hurt you again. How the heck did he find you?”

….gasping for air…”I…don’t know. I thought…I did everything to cover my tracks.”

“Amy listen to me! You need to calm down. If you are right, he will be there soon.”

I managed to stammer, in between sobs and dramatic inhales of ragged breath, “Rick, I’m scared. I can’t…I don’t know what to do…my legs won’t really move.”

“Amy! Stop! Take a breath. I am on my way, but I need you to grab something to protect yourself with. Can you walk?”

My legs were tingling and uncooperative. My head was spinning. Everything was getting fuzzy. “No! Oh my God no!”

“Then grab something near you. Anything that could cut him.”

I looked around the kitchen, the counter. All I could see and reach was the mail and the wine opener. Unless I wanted to paper cut the sick bastard to death, the wine opener was it, my weapon. I grabbed it with trebling fingers. “I have a wine opener.”

“OK. Now crawl into a closet if you can and be quiet. I am only a few minutes away. The code is the same right? ”

“Yes…Right. OK. Um…yes, it’s the…” I stopped mid sentence. I thought I heard something. I froze everything, even my breath. I listened hard and heard nothing. Then, I slowly and quietly drug my numb body over to the pantry, across the cold tile floor. “I think he’s here. I thought I heard something.”

“Fuck! I am almost there. Amy! Don’t give up now. I am coming. Fight Amy. Fight, if you need to. Have you called the cops?”

I was whispering now. “I’m in the pantry now. I don’t hear anything now. Maybe I was wrong. I’m not sure…um, no, I called you first since police couldn’t help me much in the three years of him stalking me.””

“Just stay there and wait for me. I’m calling the police too Amy,” Rick panted.

Then, I heard HIS footsteps, and my stalker’s voice cut through my hope like knife.

“Honey, I’m home… What’s for dinner my love?…..Are you hiding my dear? Oh, your such a playful kitten.”

All my breath stopped. I was frozen in fear. My mind raced over the three years where he stalked me relentlessly. He sent me “presents.” He called constantly. I asked him to stop and it just got worse. I remembered his nails digging into my arms. I could still hear his rage as he whispered threats into my ears. I got a restraining order that was of no help. His “affection”only  increased and got more intense the harder I avoided him. However, the last straw for me was when he had drugged me and videotaped me sleeping  in my own home. And on the tape, he promised another visit when I was awake so he could “love me hard like I deserved.” That was when I moved. No, that was when I ran away from my life, changing everything I was. Now, I was a new woman in a new place with a new look and a new job. I even had a new name.

None of that mattered though. Here he was anyway. He found me. And now, I would pay for running away from him.

“Amy? Are you there? Are you OK?” Rick called out over the phone.

I didn’t answer. I was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe.

“Amy?…Oh, God. Hang on. I am almost there!” Rick promised.

I could here HIM creeping around the kitchen, whistling and humming.

“Oh my darling. We are together at last. I am sorry it took so long for me to find you,” he sung. “I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again, but you will need to be punished some for hiding. You naughty little kitten.”

I trembled on the floor in the pantry. A tear ran down my cheek slowly. My nightmare was here…but I was awake. Dear God, please give me the strength. Please make Rick get here quick, I thought.

Just then, the pantry door flung open. And there before me stood a demon looking down on me with hungry eyes.

“Oh Amy my love. Why are you hiding from me? After all we’ve been through darling,” he sighed. “I was hoping you would be a good girl. But that’s OK. I’m starting to think you WANT to be punished my little kitten.”

I said nothing. My head was fuzzy from whatever the hell he put in the wine. And I was afraid to enrage him more, so I sat, even tried to smile. It must have looked as insane as he was.

He grabbed my legs and slid me out of the pantry darkness. “Come my darling. I have a surprise for you.” As he pulled me, I had tucked my phone into the pocket of my robe with one hand and put the wine opener into my other palm, clenching my fingers around the metal spiral, which I tucked under my robe that was draped over my leg.

“Oh, there we go. Now I can see you,” he cooed. “Look! I think you are happy to see me! I see a little smile.” He bent down and licked my cheek.

I drew back in revulsion.

“Oh come on dear. Don’t act like that,” he smiled.  “It took me so long to find you. You must be so hungry for me. I know that I am for YOU,” he said as he ran his hand along my one of useless legs.

“I was thinking we’d catch up before going to bed. But, I don’t think I can wait. You look so yummy in your robe. I ssssuuuppppoooossssseee we could just do it here and then again later. Time is ours my love.”

I held back my disgust and fear and tried to focus. I had to do something. Anything. God help me.

In a shaking voice, I whispered, “Your right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of hid.”

“Awe, there is my little kitten. I knew you would come around. Come closer to me.” He pulled me even closer to him and sat down next to me. I could see a gun on his side, tucked in his belt.

I drew my breath in slowly. Keep it together until Rick gets here. “Yes. I’m sorry. Will you let me make it up to you?” I asked as I ran my trembling, empty hand along his cheek.

He paused and closed his eyes at my touch. “Of course, but you will need to make up for a lot kitten. You have been very naughty running away and hiding from me. You know you belong to me,” he slowly replied and opened his eyes.

“Yes. You are right. You have always been right….I am yours. I am sorry,” I lied the best I could.

He stared at me deeply. It was like he was reading me, so I smiled as best I could. “I was just scared. It was just so much emotion, so fast. I guess I couldn’t believe it was true. So I freaked.”

He kept staring, analyzing me. Finally, he replied. “Well then, my love. I guess I can understand that. But we have each other again now,” he cooed as he took some my hair into his hand and pulled my head back to lick my neck. “You better behave kitten.”

“Yes…..yes, I will,” I stammered as he released me.

“Good. Then, let the games begin. How about a real kiss?”

“Yes…a kiss. Of course. But you need to close your eyes and wait. You gave me a bit of a fright, so I need to take a moment to calm down. Close your eyes,” I asked as I reached out with my empty hand again to touch his face. He immediately closed his eyes to reveal in my touch. I traced his nose, eyes lids, forehead slowly. I was stalling for Rick. I was stalling to readjust the wine opener in my hand I was leaning on. I was stalling to find the strength to stab him. I was stalling to live.

As I traced his lips he mumbled, “You are mine Amy. You will NOT leave me again.”

“Yes, you are right. I’m sorry. I was being stupid. Just relax now,” I said as I shifted my position and stared at his face. Now is the time to strike, I thought. “Now stay still and keep your eyes closed. I’m going to kiss you and I want you to really feel it. So no peeking. Just feel it and taste it,” I lied as I caressed his face.

“Be good kitten, or you will regret it,” he threatened me with at glare.

“I will. Just close your eyes silly,” I played and caressed his thigh.

He complied and I kept caressing him to buy time.

“OK, I am going to get closer so I can kiss you. But keep your eyes closed. Oh, and I liked your gift, the wine basket. You remembered my favorite kind. That was so sweet of you,” I whispered slowly.

He smiled.

I repositioned myself as best I could and raised both hands over my head, with the cork spiral pointing down like a knife. I leaned in a little to blow on his face while whispering, “I want you to focus on how it feels, my touch. You’ve waited so long.”

“I have, but I won’t anymore. You will be mine Amy.”

“No. No more waiting. Our time is here and right now,” I said as I slammed the corkscrew into his eye socket with all the strength I could manage.

Immediately he started screaming and fumbling around. “You bitch! You will pay for that!” He ripped the opener out of his eye, and blood started pouring down his face.

I slithered away from him, but he grabbed my foot. My legs were like jello so my attempt at kicking was more like squirming. He pulled me closer, his bloody hands climbing up my body.

“Oh, you are going to be sorry Amy. Reeeeallllllly sorry.”

Just then, Rick burst into the kitchen. “No dickhead. YOU are going to be sorry,” Rick screamed as he pulled my stalker off me and immediately started punching his bloody face.

“He has a gun Rick!”

My stalker knocked Rick to the ground with a kick to the knees. Now, they were both on the floor, rolling in blood, punching, kicking. I looked around for something. Anything. Just then, the pistol hit the tile floor as the men continued to fight. I scurried back towards them on my stomach with all my might, but my head was so fuzzy that I seemed to crawl in slow motion.

Finally, I grabbed the pistol and sat up, leaning against the cupboards. I took the weapon off safe and pointed it at the fighting men. The pistol wavered in the air under my weak arms.

“Rick! Get off him! Rick!” I screamed as loud as I could. But they kept fighting, kicking, punching, rolling. I could hear sirens. Rick must have called the cops.  They were coming to save us. If the courts worked as shitty as the restraining order did, he would be out of jail in a small matter of time, I thought.

“Rick! Stop! The police are coming!” I screamed just as Rick slammed my stalker’s head onto the ground. He groaned but stopped fighting back. Rick stopped and looked up at me.

“Amy, it’s OK. The police are coming. Put down the gun. He can’t hurt you anymore,” Rick said as he crawled across the floor toward me.

I was trembling, still holding the pistol out towards the man who had ruined so much of my life. Now, he lay there bleeding on my kitchen floor. He better die, I thought. But what if he does’t?

With that thought, I didn’t hesitate. I just pointed and pulled the trigger with all the hate I could muster, which was a lot.

“No. He won’t hurt me anymore because there is no chance he will get out of jail now,” I stated as I watched blood pour out of his chest.





To read the first part of the story, click here.

First Time Cure

She measured the exotic spices carefully and placed them into the jar. Next came the goat’s milk. Once they were combined and fused with her practiced words, the mixture would have healing power. That was, IF she got all the steps right. And how was she supposed to get everything exact with that old woman watching her every move, but offering no wisdom?

A lot of help she was, thought Sheri.

She glanced over at the haggard woman and looked away quickly. This is crazy. What am I doing here? Why am I believing this nonsense about having some gift? The only gift I have is curiosity.

The hag shifted in her chair.

Sheri paused and reviewed all her steps up to this point.

“Trust your instincts child,” muttered the woman.

Sheri closed her eyes, thinking of the chant she read in the book she had found in the abandoned house when the old woman confronted her. Slowly she reviewed the words, the spices, the goal-to heal. Then, she began to speak as she stirred in the milk.

“From earth and animal, and the spirits of old.
Give this mixture power to do as is told.
Let it heal the wounds of the good from the bad.
Let it draw out the evil, hiding inside young lads.
For the pure of heart will find this to heal.
But those from the dark, it will be their seal.
For the malevolent cannot fight the spirits of light.
For love and kindness win, over the darkness of night.”

As she said her last word, she immediately stopped stirring and paused. Nothing looked any different, but the birthmark on her shoulder burned slightly. No, not burned. It was more of a throb, decided Sheri.

“Very well my child. You’ve made your first healing poultice. Now, it’s time to test it,” the old woman stated. “You did exceptionally well for your first time.”

“You think? I seemed to go into a zone there for a minute,” Sheri eagerly stated with a smile.

“As you should. Healing poultices are simple, but powerful. They can save lives or kill,” muttered the woman. “Evil may be able to hide from our eyes, but it cannot deny its core. Just as you cannot deny your gift any longer.”

Sheri nodded. Though it all sounded so crazy, her gut believed every word. There was something different about this old hag, besides the obvious witch-like appearance that was. There was a sense of kindness and power, which is why Sheri had let down her guard and trusted her.

“So what do I do now?”

“We test it. You need to see for yourself to believe.”

“But on who?”

“You can start on me.”

“You? No offense, but your old. I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”

The old woman smiled. “Yes, my age is true, but so is my heart.”

“Um. Ok. So where do you hurt?” Sheri asked reluctantly.

“Just so you trust your gift, let’s start here,” the old woman said as she sliced a blade across her forearm.

“What the hell are you doing old woman!” screamed Sheri, watching blood instantly pour down the witch’s arm.

“Like you stated so plainly, my child. I am old. Let’s not take all day to apply the poultice. And remember, a little goes a long way. Just a teaspoon will do.”

Sheri nodded and mumbled. “This crazy. I am crazy.” With shaking fingers she smeared the concoction across the old woman’s gash. The blood mixed with the herbs. Why did she cut it so deep? thought Sheri.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Sheri questioned the witch.

“It will. You will see.” Then, the old woman sat down.

Sheri stood there staring at her bloody arm. Slowly, the bleeding stopped. She stared harder. The old woman sat back in the rocker. Was she going to pass out? Sheri wondered, looking up at her face. No, she was smiling. Who smiles before they pass out? No one, stupid. Look at her arm! The gash seemed smaller than before. Little by little, it sealed itself.

“Oh…my…gosh. It DOES work,” Sheri muttered in disbelief.

The old woman rose from the rocker and looked her young pupil in the face. “Of course it does my child. I told you that you have a gift. Now you see for yourself, and this is just a tiny bit of the good you can do.”

“Holy shit. I really am a witch?”

The old woman laughed. “Well, we like to call ourselves earth angels. Witch just sounds so…negative.”

“Earth angel,” Sheri repeated. “Huh. THAT does sound better. So now what?”

“Well, you saw how your potion can heal the injuries of those with a pure heart. Now, you need to see how it can magnify the wounds of those who are bad.”

“But isn’t it wrong to hurt them?”

“If what they are doing is evil, you are only bringing that pain back upon them and protecting others in the process. If their intentions were good and their actions just in error, the potion will do nothing. If there is some darkness hiding in them, the potion will draw it out.”

“So harm only comes to those who cause harm intentionally?”

“Yes, as the magic allows.”

“What if you use it on those who hurt you? Isn’t that revenge?”

The witch paused. “If they are truly bad, they are bad. A victim is a victim regardless of who they are.”

“OK. So where do I test this?”

“I think a good place to start would be that man you call your father. Don’t you?”

Sheri paused. She hated her father. Did the old woman know that?

“He hasn’t been feeling well, right?”

Sheri nodded, but said nothing.

“Well then. We can either help him or stop him,” stated the woman coldly.

“But he only has a cough. How would I apply that?”

“Merely mix it in his coffee.”

“And it has the same effect?”

“Yes. Good or bad, the potion will decide.”

“Could it kill someone?” whispered Sheri.

“It is possible my child. If their soul is so dark and lost to the light, and they do nothing but evil, it very well could,” said the woman bluntly.

Sheri stared at the floor. “And if it did kill them. Wouldn’t people wonder what happened and find out eventually?”

“If they DID wonder and care to check, they could only find goat’s milk and herbs.”

Sheri nodded, still looking at the floor.

“It is time for light to win over dark. Don’t you think? Are you ready to bloom my child?”

Sheri nodded and old woman turned toward the door without another word. Sheri grabbed the jar and followed her mentor out of the shack. It was time to go murder her step father with a little goat’s milk and herbs.

He’d never be able to hurt her again.





a continuation from two short stories:

Part One.

Part Two.


Sweet Little Lies

His voice dripped with the sexiness of rodeo cowboy. His words would have fit into a romance novel. His past displayed actions of an American hero in uniform. This could have been a great modern-day romance…except for one factor-he was a liar.

It all started out honest though, but doesn’t it always?

Trace messaged Julie through Facebook about her post on their mutual friend, Rick. They shared some stories. Julie had dated Rick in high school. Trace had spent a year in Iraq with him when they were both Airborne Soldiers. Julie was a Soldier too so that lead to conversations about war and the effects of it when you return home. The occasional emails turned into occasional calls and it all blossomed from there.

“When I first got home, it used to drive me nuts to hear people complain about the stupidest things,” said Julie. “It’s like they don’t realize how lucky they are! It took all I had to not scream, ‘How do you function in life if THIS is a tragedy!?’”

“I know what you mean. I went through the same thing,” said Trace with a laugh that was draped in silk. “They just have no clue.”

The now-daily chats connected them on a new level. It was no longer about their friend Rick. It was no longer about war. It was basic simple life in this day and age-a man and woman courting from afar. It crossed Julie’s mind that she may be falling for someone she met online. But this was different. He was a friend of a friend. He wasn’t a complete stranger. And he was different; he was a fellow Soldier. To be safe though, Julie did her homework. She checked out his social media sites for history. They shared a few pictures. She asked the right questions.

He was separated from his wife, and living in another house. While on the phone with him, she heard him speak to his daughter. They spoke at different times each day. He always answered her calls. This all made sense and supported his story. Julie herself had been separated for a while before her divorce so it all seemed normal. So they continued to flirt and talk about a potential visit.

“If you came here, I would show you a real rodeo and take you out to the Saloon. They have the best bands. We could dance all night,” promised Trace.

He could have told her he wanted to sit on the couch and eat popcorn for all she cared. With his voice, he could make anything sound sexy.

“Well, if you came here, we could go hiking in this local canyon. It is so peaceful. Then we could go downtown to eat at Roman’s. They have the BEST food and on the weekends they have music. Sometimes it’s jazz. Other nights, rock. It just depends on the week. I think you would love it,” said Julie.

Like two teenagers, they spoke for hours. They just clicked in so many ways. So as the weeks turned into months, the excitement about meeting was palpable. They both couldn’t wait.

Then, Julie got a call that stopped her in her tracks.

Trace’s wife informed Julie she was a fool. There was no separation, no other house, and in simple terms, there was no pending divorce.

“I am so so sorry,” exclaimed a mortified Julie. “I never would have spoken to him had I thought his story was a lie. Oh my. I feel sick. Oh God. I am sorry.” Click was the wife’s response.

Almost immediately, Trace called trying to make it better, but he couldn’t change the facts.

“I wanted to tell you. I never intending this to happen. We just started talking and you turned out to be so wonderful. I couldn’t stop talking to you. I just fell for you…”whispered the liar in that seductive voice.

“It doesn’t matter Trace. You lied. How could you lie to me? I thought we were friends first!”

Julie hung up the phone when Trace started talking again. “Go tell your wife Trace.”

‘I guess all those stories about meeting people online applies to friends of friends too,’ thought Julie as she threw herself on her bed in tears. ‘Thank God I never met him in person!’




No Escaping My Love

It was a long, grueling day at work so I was relieved to take a steaming hot shower. I needed to wipe away the stench of failure. Business at the firm had been intense lately, and seemed to be going all wrong. It was like I was under a black cloud. But, I was the newbie. I think they wanted us to fail in the beginning to season us. At least that was my hope anyway.

Wrapped in a towel, I drug myself into the kitchen, feeling only slightly less beaten. I broke out the bottle of merlot that the firm had left on my desk at work today for “all the hard work this week.” They were such a wonderful bunch of people. Though they worked me to the bone, they were the most supportive group of coworkers I had ever met. So supportive, I revealed my secret to them. So supportive, they swore to protect me if the time ever came. I hoped it never did. No, I prayed it never did.

I had taken every precaution, looked at every detail. If moving across the country was not good enough, I had changed my name as well. No longer did I sport flowing locks of gold. Instead, I had the shortest, blackest bob cut possible. I was a new woman. A woman he could no longer stalk.

Thinking about the crazed man who hunted me like prey gave me chills. They were the worst three years of my life. Everywhere I turned, he would appear. It started simply enough with a hello, a card, a flower. He seemed sweet at first. God. What a fool I had been to date him, and for two months! But I thought I would chalk it up to a bad experience when I broke up with him. That only made it worse though. He called me relentlessly. He showed up at my house, at work. I begged him to stop. He didn’t.

Finally, in a fit of anger, I slapped him and told him he was crazy. He grabbed me, and pulled me close. Through his teeth he told me, “You are mine bitch. You will always be mine. So YOU are the crazy one if you think you can just dump me and walk away.” Then he dug his hands into my arms and threw me to the ground. People on the street just stood there staring at the scene, afraid to get involved. Each time after that, his “visits” got more intense and violent. When he had broken into my house and pleasured himself in my bed, leaving me a video of it. I got a restraining order.

That didn’t stop him though. Nothing did. Stalking laws were clearly inept at protecting people. For years, the police could do nothing. He became good at leaving his “gifts” as untraceable as they were unwanted. The final straw was his “promise” to me-a video of me sleeping while he pleasured himself next to me. Apparently, he had drugged me that night. So I lay there oblivious of his revolting presence. At the end of the video, he kissed my unconscious body and then looked right into the camera with his creepy mask, and whispered, “Next time, you will be awake my love, and I won’t entertain myself.”

I packed up and left the next day knowing the police could do nothing, yet again.

It had been a year now in this new life. How wonderful it was to begin to breath and relax. With that thought, I took another gulp of merlot. I could feel my tension fade away. You are free of him, I told myself.

Maybe, I’ll watch a good girly movie tonight, or maybe just go to bed. I was feeling pretty buzzed already. Yeah, maybe bed was a better idea, I thought. But first, I’ll read the mail that the mailman had handed me earlier when I came home.

I grabbed the pile I had thrown on the counter. In the middle of the bills, ads, and magazines was an odd envelope. I didn’t think much until I read it. I dropped to the floor trembling, uncontrollably. The room started to spin. I felt dizzy. I reached for my phone, but I couldn’t help  stare at the message.

“It took me a while to find you my love. But I did. When you wake up from your wine nap, I’ll be next to you waiting for our night to begin.”



Prompt for Challenge

You’ve just been handed a message that makes you drop to the floor, trembling uncontrollably.

  • No more than a Word Count of 600. (SUGGESTED)
  • Using the above scenario, create a scene of what the note is about, and why it makes you react the way you do. (REQUIRED)
  • No external dialogue for this scene. (SUGGESTED)


Return of the Warrior

The bar had a musty foul smell. Why anyone would choose to sit here was beyond her, thought Amera. Walking through this horrible place was not her choice. It was more of a duty-one that the king had essentially commanded. She would not fail, regardless of the stench.

Amera stopped abruptly when she saw him. What a disgusting mess he was, her uncle. His clothes were unkempt and looked to have been worn nonstop for weeks, if not months. He looked dirty, probably contributing to the odor of the place. His stained hands had a slight tremor as they lay near his cold pint. Maybe this was a bad idea, she thought. How could he help me now?

“Are you going to just stare at me awkwardly child, or are you going to have a drink with your uncle?” asked the heap of man in rags.

“I was undecided uncle as I was making sure it was really you,” lied Amera. “You cut your hair.”

It was getting in the way of my drinking,” stated Markor plainly.

“Aye. That’s a good enough reason as any I suppose.”

“Well, pull up a chair my child, and tell me what brings you to the palace city. Though, I have heard the rumors on the street, I’d like to her what my own kin has to say of the matter.”

Amera pulled up a sticky seat and plopped down next to the shell of her uncle. She felt like a child again. But this time, she was not staring at a heroic war legend. This time she was sitting next to a broken warrior who had watched his own wife and son die before him. She had heard the horrible tale how the evil spirit had slowly tortured them in front of Markor’s eyes while IT had him frozen under a spell. Indeed, it was a good enough reason for a man to break. A lessor man would not have survived nor had any sense of reality after. She could see the pain in her uncle’s eyes and understood his need to numb the memory, one that assuredly haunted him daily.

“The king has commanded me to seek out those who IT has affected. I am to try and heal them, if possible,” stated Amera wasting no time getting to the point.

Markor took a long, slow gulp of his pint and stared forward. She remembered how regal he was, the battle-worn Soldier, the warrior of legends. There were portraits of him at the palace even. They crafted him in his prime, stabbing a dark spirit in battle. His face was handsome and fierce. His long golden locks flying in the wind, like a lion. She looked over at him now thinking he could easily go unrecognized now. He just looked like a regular dirty drunk. She knew he was more though, which is why she was here.

“I see. And from your sudden presence, you wish me to help?” He didn’t even turn when he asked. He just kept staring forward, not at the wall but somewhere deep in his mind.

“I can think of no other better qualified uncle. Nor one whom I’d trust more.”

There was a long pause. They both sat in silence…

She knew she was asking a lot. It was a dangerous mission. IT was still out there hurting people. If left unattended, IT could regain power. The king could not risk that. So Amera was to heal while her uncle was to fight. However, his last fight with IT had destroyed him, and here she was, asking him to face IT again. It was a huge request, even from the king.

“We will need help,” he finally stated.

“Yes indeed we will. The king told me he will pay our team: other healers, other warriors.”

“And we will choose our team?”

“Of course. The king expects no less.”

Markor took a deep breath and turned to Amera. “Well. I suppose it’s time child. We can begin in the ‘more. Tonight, we shall celebrate your regal appointment and talk of good days.”



Prompt for Challenge

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.~Inigo Montoya, The Princess Bride

  • Word Count of 500. (SUGGESTED)
  • Take your favorite quote from a movie and use it as inspiration for your entry this week. If you want more direction, make it the last sentence in your piece. (REQUIRED)


I used lines from the movie, Georgia Rule. “You cut your hair….It was getting in the way of my drinking.”

When my daughter and I were watching it, those lines took you from a serious moment to funny. We started cracking up laughing and crying at the same time. Brilliant writing. Now, we pull out those lines every now and then as a joke. So, I had to use them.

The story above is a continuation from two other short fiction pieces I wrote. If you want to read those, they can be found at the links below.

First story, Walking Through Death, Finding Hope.

The second story, Saving the Prince.