Some Help Here??

“Hi, Gwendolyn. I need you to meet me at a secret location.”

“Hi, Doofus Lord.”

“Hey! That’s not my name and you know it.”

“Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

“I…just want to see you again.”


“Oh, come on. Don’t say it like that. I really do want to see you again.”

“Before or after you make out with Dentyne Barbie?”

“That’s not her name and you know it.”


“Come on, Gwen. Just one more time. I can make things right. I can do things right this time. I swear I can.”

“Yeah, you can swear all right.”

“Gwen, please.”

“Please what? Give you another chance? Really? Because I don’t see that happening. Do you have any ideas how many of our dates you bailed out on?”

“Well, I had something—-”



“So, no. I don’t want to patch things up with you. I don’t want to give you a second chance. I sure don’t want to meet you at some cheesy secret location. So, yeah. Tough on you, Doofus Lord!” And Gwendolyn hung up the phone.


Dufus Lord looked down at his cell phone.

“Call ended.”

Dentrice Varnon smirked. “Looks like you lose again.”

He frowned at her. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Oh, I will. And no one will come to your rescue.” Dentrice tossed her head back and chortled as her henchmen tied Dufus to the chair. “But really. It’s all your fault. Being too subtle. That always was your problem. Your fatal flaw.” She chortled again. “And in a few minutes, it will be your very fatal flaw.”

He shrugged. “I’ve escaped from more hopeless situations.”

“You won’t escape this one, Dufus. There is no cavalry this time. You are going to die.”

An eerie, hollow laugh illed the air.

Dufus’ hair stood on end.

Dentrice pointed her Abrablaster in all directions. “Who’s there?”

The air next to Dentrice shimmered and shined. “It is I!” A short, overweight man in tight yellow spandex appeared and snatched the gun out of Dentrice’s hands. “Deus ex Machina Guy! Hahaha—” He knocked her out with one punch. “—hahahahahaha—”

Her goons charged at him.


He one punched her goons into unconsciousness.

“—-hahahahahahahahaha! Haha!” He released Dufus from his bonds. “All righty then! Time for you to kiss and make up with Gwen!”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“If all else fails, I’ll step in and make it all right. For I am….Deus ex Machina Guy! Hahaha!”

No Boiling Here

They’re watching me. I can feel them watching me.

I can’t see them, but I can feel their furtive stares.

It happens every day. Every single day.

They stare.  They watch.

I can’t escape their horrible gazes.

They watch me.  Expecting me to do something.

But I can’t. I can’t do anything. Because they’re watching me.

And there is no escape.

Oops! I May Have Made A Critical Error In Judgment


I escaped Area 51.

I contacted the mother ship and they’re gonna come and pick me up. So, I’m going to stay in the woods.

Stay low and keep myself out of trouble.

I don’t want to be sent back to Area 51. That was a bad place. If I still had my own ship, I’d set that place aflame.


No one told me that people camp in these woods.

People who roast marshmallows.


marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers.




I may have tried to steal one from a camper.

The camper may have freaked out. And called the army and the navy and the marines and the FBI and…


I’m back in Area 51.

I will get out of here yet.


Daily Prompt: Punctured Tire On Elsie’s Wedding Day

Author’s Note: Time for a completely unlikely scenario.  😀  Like, this is never going to happen scenario.

Elsie Vansing sped down the road in her souped up Mustang convertible.

Today was May 21.

The day she had been awaiting for too long. It had finally arrived.

And she was running late.

And her wedding gown didn’t fit quite right.

It’s all those hamburgers Hildreth has been making me eat.

It’s all his fault.

I don’t know why my mother insisted on us getting married in Pinkerlee. They have a perfectly nice church in Havaton.

Ploom! Her front tire exploded into rubber shreds.

Elsie clenched her teeth and pulled over to the side of the road. She got out of the car in her wedding dress and went to fetch the spare tire.

There was no spare tire.

She stared at the blank spot where the tire was supposed to be.

“Okay. This is doable. I’ll call Hildreth. Have him pick me up.” She pulled out her phone.


Dead phone.

No charger.

No spare tire.

And there was no one else on the road.

She shrugged. “Fine. I’ll walk.”

And so she abandoned her car.


She was half-way to Pinkerlee when the clouds scooted on in. They grew thick and dark and ominous.

Elsie held her head with pride and determination. “I will make it to the church on time.”

And the rain came down in buckets and sheets.

It melted the hairspray holding her hairstyle in God’s good order. Her hair plastered against her skin. Her mascara cascaded in black torrents down her face. Her drenched gown stuck to her body. The hem of her gown attracted every bit of dirt and mud and burrs. Even though she was walking on the road, her dress attracted burrs. Somehow.

Hysteria slowly built up inside her chest as the rain came down harder and harder. She wanted to throw herself down and just give up.

She wanted to sob out her misery and drown in it.

A peach Mini Cooper pulled up next to her.

She gloomed a look at the driver.

He smiled at her. “Hello, Elsie.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Ambrose.”

“You look like you need a ride.” His smile grew. “You look like you need a lot more than that.”


“You gonna get in?”

She opened the door and got into the car. Her gaze traveled all over his face, his neck, his arms.

“Elsie.” He stroked the sopped hair away from her face.

That was all the encouragement she needed. She threw her wet dressed self at him and kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around her. His hands moved up into her hair. “Elsie.”

She eventually released him and returned to her seat.

“Well. Where should I take you?”

She smiled love at him. “Wherever you want to go, I’ll go with you.”


via Daily Prompt: Puncture

Bad, First Chapter! Bad!

Author’s Note:  Deidra Alexander had a challenge on her blog about writing a bad first chapter. While her take on it was bad enough, I couldn’t help myself. I decided to take up the challenge. And these are the results.

Enter at your own risk….

Isabella Dreamchild’s alarm went off. Late as usual. She opened her long-lashed eyelids, revealing miraculously cerulean blue eyes that sparkled constantly in the light. Her perfectly plump lips opened wide in a delicate yawn. She sat up and stretched her lean, modelesque arms. Her brilliantly blonde hair was like a sunrise of brilliance that sparkled incessantly with every move she made.

She uncovered her long, lean, perfectly proportioned, drool-worthy body and leapt delicately out of bed. (I guess she slept naked. Not sure. I’d like to think she’s wearing clothes, but it sure doesn’t sound like it, does it?)

(Her alarm was still ringing, by the way.)

She pirouetted over to the full-length mirror and admired how her miraculously cerulean blue eyes sparkled constantly in the light. Her perfectly plump lips never needed lipstick because they were not only perfectly plump, they were also a most pleasing shade of red that went with whatever she wore. Her brilliantly blonde hair sparkled like a brilliant topaz in the bottom of a swimming pool. Her long, lean, perfectly proportioned, drool-worthy body was perfectly proportioned and drool-worthy.

“Oh.” She sighed mournfully. “To be cursed with such beauty. What I wouldn’t give to see a blemish on my perfect porcelain skin or even a hangnail on my everlastingly perfect fingernails. But no. I look like this every day.”

She ran her fingers through her brilliant fountain of brilliantly blonde hair that was like a brilliant sunrise in the brilliant side of Maui.

A single tear trickled down her perfect face as she thought of all of her suitors and random guys who opened doors for her and asked for her phone number and asked if she were available Saturday night and….

She wept as only a woman of such grace and beauty can…..with grace and beauty.

And her alarm clock kept on ringing.


Letters To Euturpe #62 – Liminal

He stood in the doorway of what used to be his kitchen.
She sat on a chair at what used to be their table.
Her eyes were downcast.
Her voice was silent.
Treads of tears stained her face.

He entered what used to be his kitchen.
Now it was just hers.
He walked over to what used to be their table.
He stopped beside her.
And he felt lost.

Lost for words.
Lost for deeds.
Lost for ways
For her to see him, hear him, touch him
One more time.

He smiled.
It was a challenge.
And challenges had always been his thing.
When her life and his life were combined
Into their life.

He would not back down from this challenge.

He stretched his hand forward.
Worried that she wouldn’t feel it.
Worried that she’d slap it away.
Worried that she wouldn’t know it was real.

His hand landed on her arm.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t raise her head.
She didn’t react at all.

He pulled his hand away.
She raised her head.
She glanced around.

He said her name
It was just a whisper.
It was liminal.
It was barely perceptible.

He said her name again
And sang it like it was his favorite song.
He sang it as she sat.
Alone at her table.
In what was now her kitchen.

He sang it all the day.
And she listened to its melody.
With tears in her eyes.
And a smile on her mouth.


Only Make Believe

I am a fey with too much emotion.
I am a vampire with a bad attitude.
I am a villain who everyone wants dead.
I am a fey queen who yearns for freedom.

I am a vampire hunter who is serious.
I am a vampire hunter who has a quirky sense of humor.
I am a dragon with strong emotions.
I am a fast talking girl who turns into a fire creature.

I am the drama in their lives.
I am their good days and their bad nights.
I am their matchmaker.
I am their creator.

I am a writer and I bring them all to life.