Monday, September 10, 2018


Wow, that was a long break from blogging. So, why has it been this long since I've posted anything? 

Excuse One - 

In order to try to finish incomplete novels, I took a break from writing flash fiction which is what I put here. Have I finished said incomplete/in-editing-stage novels? No. I gave a good effort in three of the novels.

Excuse Two -

I was drawn to paint and have been putting those on Instagram. Instagram is, right now, my go-to social media outlet for creativity. Also, during this time I did write a short story for an anthology(upcoming promotion soon).

Excuse Three - 

I've been moving from Port-au-Prince, Haiti to Helsinki, Finland. I've been in Helsinki for just over a month and I'm in the apartment which will be my home for the next two years. 

I'm am planning to write, draw, paint, bike, walk, and to travel while here. If you want to see some of the landscapes of my new home and see a few of my watercolor paintings please visit my Instagram.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

The Limits Of Our Imperfection

For this terribleminds challenge, the title, first and last line were provided.

Deep inside the twisting wood, there is a house, in a gully. I spotted it, just a flash of it while descending far too quickly for my skill level along a deer trail desperately trying to keep up with boy mountain bikers. Keith convinced me it was a perfect first date. We’d met at a trailhead.
My girlfriends and I enjoying the afterglow of our weekly ride with Susan’s latest perfectly brewed white ale when Keith and his friends arrived. It was a typical trailhead meeting with the comparing of gear, info about trail conditions, and admiration of home brew. Keith was a flirt and most likely a collector of phone numbers. I didn’t expect a call.
There I was cursing through the woods, a million tiny scratches on my arms and legs from following a barely visible trail through heavy undergrowth, and reaching the end of the ride just when the last beer was about to be opened by Keith, my date.
He reluctantly handed it to me, “What did you think? It has hidden trail potential. Right? Cept for that last bit. Totally sketchy last mile or so.”
In the last effort to look cool before my date and not terrorized by every inch of their non-existent trail, I slugged down the entire beer. I didn’t know the whole crew was watching me. They hooted and hollered when the last drop hit my tongue.
Did this mean I was in? Was in the club? I didn’t want in. I wanted to throw a girly hissy fit. In my mind I was yelling at Keith - you dodo brain, this is a terrible first date. I’m miserable. I’m scratched head to toe, sweating, and stinky. My hair's a mess. And, at the moment, I hate you. All I want now is a shower and my bed. Not you. Not one bit. Though even the tips of my toes knew the whole ordeal was awesome and after the scratches didn’t sting in the shower I would want to do it again. And I would, alone. I wanted to check out the house in the gully.
Keith and his buddies were trail warriors. I became addicted to the animal trails they discovered and even brought Ashley to have someone a bit slower than me. It was a full month before I went back to find the house.
I brought my bike though I ended up pushing it more than riding it. Shoving it up a steep section while scanning the hillside, ignoring the wild rose vines licking at my legs, my mind kept thinking, “This is the wrong hill. It's been too long.”
I kept going until there was a break in the woods and an area of grass. It wasn’t as steep either.  It was memorable and where I thought of stopping on the ride but then seeing the tail end of Keith’s bike go back into the woods, I kept going not wanting to get lost. This had to be the hill.
Leaning my bike against a tree, I walked slowly back down the hill. There, a spot of sun glinted of something smooth and reflective and not visible from the other direction. I hadn’t been delusional from exhaustion.
I dug out my carefully wrapped camera from my backpack and took a few quick pictures of the surroundings. Then, stepped toward the house wondering how old it was and how it got to be in that position on this steep hill.
My foot snagged an entanglement of rose vines and I was falling forward.  My right-hand lets go of the camera and I tried to stop my forward momentum. The steepness was relentless so I tucked my head and hoped for a soft landing in the gully. The fall didn’t stop.
And then.
Silence blanketed the meadow.

Thursday, July 6, 2017

Time For Tea And Treachery

Yeah, my title was randomly chosen for this weeks terribleminds challenge so I used it. I have added to an old Yggdrasil story.

Time For Tea And Treachery
The week passed by slowly since Yggdrasil challenged Nanna to a tea biscuit duel. Nanna, obviously bragging, brought out her dress during a tea hosted by the three Fates. It was the same design and cloth as Yggdrasil’s dress that she’d kept a secret.

The Fates conclude that it's Nanna’s destiny to wear the gown to the Höðr ball. Yggdrasil irritated, takes a deep breath and extinguishes the fireball she wanted to throw at the copied dress. Before an argument ensues, Yggdrasil challenges Nanna to a duel.

"Aiger, is my parasol complete? The tea duel is tomorrow and I should practice with it," says Yggdrasil.

"It's the fifteen minutes. The workings are precise up to nine minutes though they work best at three. Every time I push the mechanism to eleven or above there is a noticeable shimmering and a golden red leaf ..."

"Yes, yes enough with your nonsense. Nine minutes is plenty and perhaps three minutes," her voice quiets for this last bit, "for tea biscuit duel disintegration."

He peers over his multi-lensed goggles. "You know the significance of a red leaf, of course. This is something, I believe, that needs to be reported to the Council of Time Manipulations and studied further. I cannot let this item be in use by anyone who has not gone through the proper time manipulation training. Even your request for an altered parasol should have been..."

"Yes, yes, you discussed at length all the regulations when I brought the parasol to be changed," she air quotes around the word changed. "Do I need to remind you about our agreement." She places a gold coin in the brass dish.

"Your patronage is welcome, Yggdrasil." He straightens from his typical working hunch and points to a lever. "It is a simple gadget and by setting this lever that has fifteen positions. Please, I beg you, don't set it beyond nine minutes."


"Then, push the stone at the base of the handle. As requested, the user of the parasol is not affected. Time will stop for everyone and everything for a fifty-foot radius. I must also say..."

Yggdrasil grabs the object, walks out of the workshop admiring the Petra stone her grandfather gave her. She sighs happily not to hear the contraption master issue any more warnings and not wanting to give him time to change his mind.

The next day-

The crowd holds its breath as Yggdrasil cleanly eats her biscuit seconds after Nanna. The Tiffin Master says, “Yggdrasil’s won. She’ll wear the blue gown to Höðr ball.”

The crowd hesitates in their applause. Nanna, a five-year champion of Aphrodite's Annual Tea Duel competitions, lost. The goddesses sitting on Yggdrasil’s side applaud.

The hall’s doors open with a crash and a man, with a perfectly tied cravat, enters. “Yggdrasil cheated. Her parasol contains a time-turning contraption!”

“How dare you…” begins Yggdrasil, placing her thumb on the Petra stone on her parasol.

“Stop her,” yells a woman.

The Tiffen Master reacts too slowly. Yggdrasil presses the stone.

The scene reverses.

She wobbles the biscuit in her hand. It splashes on her cup and the table.

The door opens, the well-dress man says, “Yggdrasil cheated…”

The Tiffen Master says, “Yggdrasil lost horribly.”

Yggdrasil points her parasol at the man’s cravat and says, “And, I’m stuck wearing yellow.” She storms from the hall, smiles, and hatches another plan to thwart Nanna.

Sunday, July 2, 2017

Trip to Paris and Amsterdam

Nord Station
Here are a few pictures from my recent trip. Steampunk is easily spotted when the Victorian Era leaves a mark and Amsterdam has a certain feeling about it.


But of course
Imagine the time travel

The thing to do along the Seine
Miss Winsome!?
A pet toad for the parlor
Where English books go in Paris



And canals

And Saint George

Bridge architecture

A windmill

A walkway

The rainy Dam Square

On the way to view art

Waxed cheese

Thursday, February 2, 2017


This week's terribleminds challenge.


I went to town yesterday to get more eggs. Amber seems to like the eggs I fix her for breakfast and today I’m making an omelet with Desmine’s goat cheese. Everyone came up to me with questions about Amber. I just kept saying, “I don’t know.”

I do know she's the one who gave me and my friends this life instead of the hell that is happening. As least, that is what has been reported to us. That hell took over the streets of the cities.

It must be hell because every time I look into Amber’s eyes all I see is nothing. There used to be light, intelligence, playfulness, knowledge and maybe a little love for me. The last desperate look and knowledge I tried to gain from looking into her eyes in the city before the end, I also saw fear with a titch of rebellion. Ha, how can one see all of that in someone else’s eyes without talking to them? Her eyes spoke to me the first time I saw them. The slight quick blink and then the direct look into my eyes wrote volumes about her, her thoughts, and her knowledge.

I want to shake her to bring something of her back to me. Here she is and nothing. I ache for some sign that she is still somewhere in there.

She is sitting and staring out the window. I bring the omelet to her.

“Good morning, Amber.” I hold the plate out to her. She takes it.

“Thank you, Wolfeite. I appreciate your kindness.” This is the exact thing she says to me no matter what I give her. I sit next to her.

“Do you like goat cheese?” I want to have some kind of conversation with her.

“Yes, this is very good.”

“Why are you here, Amber?”

I wait as she takes another bite and chews. I wonder if she counts bites because it seems to take the same amount of time for each bit. She swallows, her head turns toward me and her dead eyes stare into mine.

She looks out the window again and speaks. “I rebelled.”

I wait for more words and watch her eat. Finally, I push and hope for an answer. “How, Amber? Speak to me, please. Tell me.”

I sit through two more bites.There is not much left on the plate.

The words leave her lips slowly. “I left, after. I lit fire to our work, to the papers, and to the servers. Everywhere I went, people were…. I tried to help some. Then, I looted the pharmacy and now, I’m here.”

Amber got up and took the plate to the kitchen. She ate the last bit of omelet quickly. “Wolfeite?”

“Yes?” Before I put the ‘s’ to my one-word question, I am standing in front of her. I wanted to look into her eyes. Hoping they would convey everything she hadn’t said.

“I want to rebel more.”  Her lids close slowly and open. Now, she looks at me and her eyes speak of hate and hell and fury and she lets out a breath. I glimpse determination and a little bit of love for me in her blue-green eyes.

Thursday, January 26, 2017


This weeks terribleminds challenge - Hope in the face of Hopelessness.  I've continued using the same world I created for the Apocalypse Now challenge.


Beryl is where I live now. I’m not sure what’s happening in the lowlands. Sometimes there are reports of descent that a few travelers report to us. At first, over a year ago, mail carriers would deliver an official envelope with information about the change that was happening. Our Mayor, Cinnabar, would read every word of the file and then put it in a public folder so we could all read it. A cheer would go up at the end when it congratulated us on our important part in the whole plan. The plan had some number to it that I have forgotten.

Thursday evening is our gathering night. I love it. When I visited, Beryl, before the plan was enacted I would stop briefly for one more use of a flush toilet and buy packaged food before heading into the wood to camp and fish. It was on my last return trip from camping that I moved to Beryl. Actually, I didn’t move here but just didn’t go home. The store clerk informed of the plan and he’d been waiting for my return. He and his wife took me in and I live in their cabin they’d built for grandchildren to stay in when they visited. They don’t know where their kids are now.

Back to Thursday night. It was mandated that each Village of Preserve (VOP) should have a social evening and keep the collective memory. Beryl’s is a party. Everyone brings food and Wolfeite created a band. Tonight, one of the best hunters has made barbecued meat. I’ve made a pig of myself. Sipping on some kind of alcohol recently brewed, I listen to the music and enjoy the evening air which has a hint of winter in it.

“Thorite, is this seat taken?” asked Niter.


“You notice the stranger?” He jerked his head to the right.

“No.” I look and can’t tell anything about the person except that the backpack was bigger than the person’s upper half.

“I think it’s a girl. Remember the last stranger told us of a woman who was rescuing people from the horrors of the lowlands? Wonder if it is her?”

“What? In Beryl? Why would such a legend be here?”

“Because that guy said that she said she was heading to VOPs. Beryl’s a VOP, remember?”

“You’re fantasizing. That guy was telling tells. His story is what people tell when they want to have some kind of hope. This is it, Niter. Enjoy this Thursday. Tomorrow there might not be one.”

Niter mumbled and took another drink. I kept looking over at her.  I wondered, did she know that she is welcome to food? To drink? Did she have information about anything beyond the mountain?

Then, I watched her and her backpack titter and fall over. Wolfeite reacted faster than all of us and in two steps, he was off the stage and kneeling next to her. “Amber, Amber,” he said and touched her cheek.

A crowd formed around them. Wolfeite starting giving commands. He was that guy who always knew what to do. Amber? Was that the name the stranger said? Could Niter actually be right and this is that woman?

“Thorite, get her some food,” Wolfeite said and I saw that her eyes were open. “Everyone move back. She’s going to be ok.” He started to get her backpack off and I went for food.

Thursday, January 19, 2017


This is the same world as last weeks apocalyptic story. This week's terribleminds challenge was something that scares you.

My mother, often while standing at the sink doing dishes, would ask me, “What do you fear, Wolfeite? What are you going to overcome now?”

I never ask the question in return. My mother’s fears were never known to me. This question had become part of my life and I never question why she asked it.

Today, now, at this moment, standing in front of the house that had become too crowded with its five inhabitants, I ask myself my fear. While I’m thinking on it, I see the old woman with a new load of bags all completely filled. She is hunched over and this hunch is still present when she is not loaded down with a new load.

“What momentous thing are you going to do today, Wolfeite?”

I know the voice instantly. It is Thorite.

“Today, with this blue sky, with the dirt road in front of me, with the woman walking by with her loaded bags. I think I will seek out a house that is empty.”

“A futile task then. They are filled. You know that.”

“Indeed I do.” I walk off following the woman. It has been three months since my group of friends was herded to this village. Three months since one life ended and this new one began. This time my fear wasn’t a fear of being alone. I still feared never seeing her again but now new fears had entered me. Every morning, rising from my bed, I wondered if my knees would ache as much as they did yesterday. When planting my bare feet on the floor, I mentally took note of the degree of pain in my back.

Falling in with slow measured steps of the women, I said a quick hello to just say I was there. We continued our steps in silence.

The dirt road continued and then turned down a hill. I hadn’t been down that hill since I came to Beryl. That is the name we were told but I have never found a sign to confirm the town’s name. She continues along a rocky path that rises. There is still room for me to walk next to her and we continue.

The sun is above us and the trees no longer shade the path. Sweat drips from my hair to my neck combining with trickles running down my back. The path turns into a clearing and I see a brown porch railing. The woman walks up to the door and opens it.

“Come on. I’m in need of refreshment.” She walks into the house leaving the door open.

I’m awe struck when I walk through the door and see the view through the bank of windows. The house must sit on the edge of a cliff because I’m looking at the tops of the mountains.

“It is all yours. I fear Beryl is getting too crowding and I’m not finding much to fill my bags. I leave in the morning.”