Six Sunday for Fall

My entry for SixSunday is below I hope you enjoy it.


He grabbed his face mask abruptly as he told him that he would amount to nothing if he didn't get his ass in gear.
"Those Squids over there aren't here to play, they want to kill you, rip out your heart and eat it!"
He thought hard about what it meant to be a Squid Ranger, putting your life on the line to protect the Homefront, and provide food for your family. Checking his laser rifle to make sure it was set to broil, he charged towards the advancing line, blasting away at the flurry of tentacles that surrounded him. As he yelled back to get a fridgevac up here to take this calamari, a lone tentacle grabbed his gun from his hands. Before he could turn to see the culprit he felt a warming sensation engulf his body becoming painfully hot as he instantly fell to the ground.

Thurs Threads, & I'm back with a vengeance

I know it has been incredibly long since I last posted. Some may even be saying who is this that popped up in my blog queue? I have been extremely busy, and let life and work get ahead of me writing. But, No More! Below you can feast your eyes on my latest Thurs Threads entry. Hopefully this will signal the start of writing more often. Enjoy and thanks for the read.


New Horizons

She looked over at him and started weeping. It had been close to a week that they had been on this strange planet. They had eaten very little for fear of poisoning and had only recently for fresh water. Yet neither of them were hungry, thirsty, or tired for that matter. It was so confusing to her, they had went to bed, and had woke up here.
"So what do you think?" she quivered as spoke.
“As far as I’m concerned, we are God.” he replied smugly.
"How can you honestly think that?" she questioned.
He lifted his hand slowly, His brow furrowed in concentration. As he lifted it a large plant that was next to us started to rise out of the ground. He flung his hand out, and the plant went flying away from us. He turned to me, and as his hand made a squeezing motion, I could feel the pressure starting to indent my skull. I begged and pleaded. The pain was mounting. He gestured in a dismissive manner, and I was tossed in a heap to watch as he walked off.

A little Scribbling about housepets...sort of?

Well folks if you read my last post, you would know that things have been real tight time wise. In fact I'm going in tomorrow for some more work. I was however able to eek out a little scribblin' for this Sunday. I like it, it is real fun. As always, enjoy the read and leave a comment below if you please.

He had detested him for as far back as he could remember, and with what he thought was good reason. This man, John Wankell, would go around the town at night and steal dogs and cats to butcher. Unfortunately, there was never any proof just Ricky’s word against his, and John being the adult he got the benefit of the doubt. He tried not to be any where near him and would often go blocks out of his way to avoid John’s house. But today he was in a hurry to get to the baseball game, so he went the quick route right down his street. He had heard the term, ‘All Hell break loose’, but until this day he could have never imagined it being so literal. There was a reddish tornado standing in John’s front yard, and coming out of it were zombified housepets. He pulled himself out of his shocked state and began to turn around to look for help. Right behind him was John; with what he was sure was a mirror image of the shock on his own face.

“I didn’t think they would do this, they just asked for the pets as payment for me living in the house.” He stuttered out, “You have to believe me and you have to help me!”

Life sometimes makes strange bed-fellows he thought as he threw down his bike and reached for the bat. Mrs. Gadson’s cat, that he noticed missing three weeks ago, was the first to get its head lobbed off, followed by Davey’s ol’ hound Spot that everyone thought got lost in the woods. His stomach was barely able to keep its morning contents as they approached the windstorm. Being disgusted by flying bits of trusty companions would have to wait, him and John Wankell were about to go into the middle of hellspawn to save their neighborhood.

Attack of the Day Job

As you can tell there have been no Bizarro flash fiction pieces this week. That is because life has conspired against me to take away my time.
Between twelve hour shifts and lots of other priorities, writing these prompts has taken a back burner. I hope to be back into the swing of it in a couple of weeks. I will try to post when and what I can. Thanks again for the read and the support. See you soon.

Six Sunday Scribblings

I have here for your approval my six sentences for #SixSunday and scribblings on the theme always. As always enjoy the read share and comment and subscribe if you want to catch my other writing prompt entries.

As he lay there, every fiber of his body exposed, he couldn't think of a time when his brother was not with him. Today was the first race that he wasn't working beside him in some way. He knew that his brother had some issues with him taking his spot on the team, even then, his support for him was steadfast. When he left to start this stage of the race and couldn't find him, his worse nightmares started to erode to the surface. It wasn't till he came round to the hairpin turn that his fears were met by a plasma blast to the chest. His brother stood over him with a vengeful look of disapproval and said, "I'm always gonna be Mom's favorite."

Hindsight - Haunted Waters

This Piece is a bit more horror than I usually write, but the #tuesdaytales winner this week gets to be in the summer issue of Haunted Waters Press. As always enjoy the read.

I reluctantly saw my son off today. I have been replaying our conversation over and over. He had been talking about this trip for years, how he was going to ride his bike around this beautiful country of ours. I said he needed more than just this. He had all the gear he said he would need. I reminded him constantly that the world was a dangerous place for a young man. He told me he would write often, as he kissed my forehead. He reassured me he would be fine, and then rode off towards his dreams. What else could I have said, knowing now that it was my last time to see him, my darling son? After he was out of sight I called for Tom, the help around the farm since my husband had passed a couple years back. I thought maybe he was out back feeding the hogs. I rounded the back porch only to be startled by Tom, standing there waiting for me, next to his ’65 fairlane with that silly rocketship hanging from the rearview mirror. He always loved that thing. asked him what was the matter, but his reply was the hatchet across my neck. I fell back in silence and stunned amazement, after all this time, why? I went through the conversation with my son again; there was nothing I could have said to make him stay. Oh how I wish he would have stayed

Menage & Motivation

Here is my entry for the #MenageMonday writing prompt. Below is the #MotivationMonday entry. Please be a dear and leave a comment. Thanks and enjoy the read.
 
I was never one for excitement, but it wasn't the roller coaster that had me worried. In my pocket was a beautiful diamond ring, and when we get to the top of it, I'm going to ask her to marry me. It pulled out and started up the hill, my heart was pounding with the clickety clack. I was reaching into my pocket when I heard a creaking and a loud pop. The side gave way and we slid to the edge of the car. With another lurch she fell out, but was able to hold onto the ledge. I braced myself and extended my hand. I stared deep into my lover’s eyes. Then she said to me, “I have to let go.”

#MotivationMonday

“Please, can I just go after this show?” he belted out from the other room.

“I can’t wait that long” she hollered back with equal disdain.

He rolled his eyes at her and begrudgingly got up from his warm and comfy seat.

“You know it is below freezing out there.” he grumbled as he put his woolen cloak on.

“Do you want one or two eyes this time?” he quizzed.

“You know I want two, and bring me a bag of toad warts too.” she replied.  

He was sure he wasn’t the first mage to encounter this situation, but this baby making business was truly frustrating.

Sunday Scribblings - In the Beginning

In the beginning we thought we could live in harmony. They brought us new ways to farm from their planet. They also gave us new materials to work with, which we needed in this depression we were in. They said they just needed a home and their knowledge was an exchange for that. Life was good, if not a bit tense, for the first few years. Then lots of people started going missing. Lots of conspiracies cropped up about the new visitors, but nothing substantial. Nothing a gumshoe like me could use. I spent my nights chasing dead ends and whiskey neats with more of the same. All I had anymore were lost dames and a pocket full of trouble. I had nothing personal against the visitors, they just seemed to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I finished my whiskey and headed down to the encampment to question a few out of towners about a nice little number that was last seen round there. I got the standard reply, "Not around here, but I'll let ya know." I knew they were hiding something but I didn't know what. As I was walking back to the dump of an office I call home, I saw a couple of them trying real hard not to be noticed. I tailed them for a couple of blocks, they headed for a joint known to be a cathouse for their kind. I thought it was a dead end until I saw my dame stumbling out. A couple of visitors scooped her up and put her in a car. That road went straight out of town and this didn't look good for the doll.

...to be continued

also look here for my SixSentenceSunday

Six Sunday Sentences for Mom

I took the holiday as the theme for my six this sunday, sort of. I still want to wish all mothers out there a Happy Mother's Day. May you not do a thing today, except of course enjoy the read. leave a comment or check out my sunday scribblings here.


As I wiped the traditional killing blade of our species clean, I knew she would be proud of me, I followed through with our plans for bringing about this world's subjugation. I had been here three months studying their habits and looking for their weaknesses. The mothership, that had stayed on the dark side of their moon so as to not be detected, was now landing on the south lawn of their White House. Soon this whole puny planet would know the power of our weapons, and the
constriction of our rule. I had picked this day, when they are more concerned about sentiment and nostalgia, and this place so as to affect the populace with fear and worry. As she walked off the mothership, I bowed before our queen and said, "Happy Mother's Day!"

Friday Fictioneers sort of

I wrote this for the Friday Fictioneers, though I did not use the photo prompt. Enjoy the read none the less. 


Grandma tried her best to get the stinger out. I was pinned down and could only watch helplessly.  The bees, twice the size of a chihuahua, attacked at dawn. The war with V.E.N.O.M., a terrorist organization bent on using venomous creatures for world domination, had raged for months, but we had not anticipated this attack. The attack stopped momentarily. I ran, heart pounding to her side and ripped it out.
"Stay with me Grandma!"
I threw her over my shoulder, and started unleashing fire on those unholy beasts. I could feel the piercing sting one by one, as I dropped.

Playing catch up with prompts

My 3 word wednesday piece a day late, but hopefully not a dollar short. Let me know what you think. I also have below my 5 sentence fiction piece. So keep reading and I hope you enjoy.

3WordWednesday
He couldn't keep up. He pedaled as if his life depended on it, because it did. He was good in high school, could bike across town in twenty flat, but that was twenty minutes he didn't have. He thought it was a harmless bet. A thousand dollars if he could make it the fifty miles to the top of this desert mountain, starting at sunrise, before sundown. His brow was dampened with what he felt like was the very last ounce of his energy. His legs started to tremble as they had reached the end of their usefulness. If he could just get the 100 yards to the crest, then he could break away on the downhill. If he made it out of this alive, he thought, he would never take another bet again. No thousand dollars was worth being chased by zombies.

#FiveSentenceFiction

He had never liked them, understanding their practical purpose for farmers in the hot desert sun, he just thought they were too touristy.
"Come on Honey it'll be fun", she said with a smirk that he knew all too well would lead to no good.
"You will have to promise that this will be the last one," he said already knowing the answer.
As she smiled and shook her head, he struck the usual beefcake pose that she wanted for these sordid photos. The money was good, he just never thought his wife would be pimping porn photos of him on the internet.

The Proposition

Here is a little 99 word piece I wrote for TuesdayTales. I think it has real potential with some other stuff. We'll see. You can also see other recent writings here, here, and here. Leave a comment. Subscribe above or tweet to the right. Thanks for taking the time to read.


I stood transfixed by the rain. I had done cases for the government before, but not like this. Of course, she wasn't like any G-man I had ever seen. That short red dress and legs that won't quit. She took another drag off her cigarette.
"So Mr. Rook, are you in with our proposal?” she asked.
"What is it I'll exactly be doing?” I replied.
"A little consulting, a little freelance, hard to say really.” she equivocated.
I don't get in a van without an ace up my sleeve, and right now gorgeous was dealing me strikes.
“I’m in.”

Motivations on Monday

Here is a piece I wrote for Motivation Monday. I hope you enjoy, because I like it. Thanks again.


"I'm out of sugar again Harold", she bemoaned.

“Yes dear”, he replied. He had no intention of getting it for her this time. He had made a  mistake six years ago when in a drunken stupor he wished that the crab next to him on the beach could be his wife and end his loneliness. He passed out shortly afterwards, only to awake the next morning next to a beautiful woman. His head throbbed, as only too many tequila sunrises can do, while she explained to him in broken English that she was his wife. After a couple more days of consummation, they both headed back to his home. She proclaimed that all she needed was in her luggage, she had no need for an abundant amount of possessions. The first few weeks were fun, it was like he was getting to live life for the first time. As time went on though the joy left and was replaced by a constant demand for sugar. It started off slow and gradually increased to the point where a fifty pound bag bought at a warehouse store might get her through a week. That, however, was just the payment for his wish. You see it was a sugar crab that was next to him, and if given enough sugar they can grant wishes, he had spilt his daiquiri on her and now was bound to him for as long as he could supply the sugar. Over the last year and a half her true form has been overtaking this facade she created for him. Now she doesn't even leave the house for fear of what people

would say about her pertruding eyes scaly exoskeleton, or sharp pincer like fingers. Harold had had enough. He had bought a jacuzzi not long after they got together, she had stayed out of it for obvious reasons. He stood over it now pouring the jumbo container of Old Bay into the bubbling water.

"I got some out here Dear!"

Menage Monday Miss

We've all been there, trying to finish up on some writing deadline when brutal reality steps in to ensure the demise or derailment of the project. Well...that happened this evening. I was submitting this (I thought) to the menage monday writing prompt contest. I hastily rushed out the door for a previous engagement, only to come back to my computer and an internal server error and password malfunction. Needless to say I missed the deadline. Once again foiled by procrastination. GRRRR! Below is that entry. It is also a continuation of this and that. I highly suggest reading them first so it will make more sense. Enjoy this read and leave some comments below so I can get some feedback on direction. I will also start working towards organizing them onto their own pages in the near future.

He looked around the ledge and gathered some fire wood. He would stay in this cave tonight. The giant worms seemed to not move through rock.  He got the fire started, and as he stared hungrily into it, yearning for something familiar, he began to sob. He'd hiked up here with his boy scout troop, mundane things like this were affecting him the most. The instability of his situation echoed in his mind like thunder. He closed his eyes and prayed for morning to come.
He heard something, as he got up, green lightning streaked across the sky. He saw a figure silhouetted. He reached for his rifle, but instead there was a severed arm. He stumbled, hitting his head as he flailed out of the cave, stopping as he heard a voice say, "We need more time, We need more time." Another crash of lightning as he lost his footing and fell towards an open mouth of a giant worm.
He slammed his head back from the jolt of the dream. While he nursed it he noticed it was morning. He needed to get going it was a long trip across the valley.

A Stranger Paris at Night

I just entered in a Noir writing contest on Worth1000. If you sign up you can vote on it. I am posting it here as well so feel free to critique. Thanks for the read!

I stepped out of the loft apartment as I told my girl that I was going to La Culotte Mauvais. We had rented it for a month. This wasn’t my first time in Paris, but the last time I was putting lead buttons on Nazis. That was just a few years ago and they were still rebuilding. This was her idea, to get me out of the Ol’Apple, away from those cases that have been driving me crazy. It was starting to rain as I got on my bicycle. It wasn’t my favorite mode of transport, but they couldn’t get the Studebaker on the boat. It was a decent ride down cobblestone streets to the bar.  I had frequented this establishment quite a bit back after the war. As I topped the hill I noticed an old drunk stumbling out of the place. I tried to slow down, as his erratic shuffling concerned me. I thought I was clear of him, when he lunged right at me at the last minute. I was regaining my bearings when I was helped to my feet. It was a couple of goons, and they made sure I understood them. They started on my gut like a boxer pounding on a side of beef. I called out to the drunk, but he just wandered off up the cobblestones. They pulled me back into an alley, tied me up and threw me into the back of a delivery truck. My mind was racing, this wasn’t just your average mugging, and I didn’t know anyone here who would want to kidnap me. What was going on? I tried to keep track of what direction we were going by counting turns. We were heading North and between time and the condition of the roads, I would say we were heading for the woods. This didn’t look good, but I had been in a few scrapes like this before, and I lived to tell the tale. I was just trying to put my finger on the motive.

The truck pulled to a halt about an hour later, they opened the doors and dragged me out against a tree. Their English was bad and my French was rusty, so it made our conversation a bit rough. They kept asking me, why I did it to her? I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about I had done nothing. They didn’t like my answer, so the pistol whipped me. I told them I had done nothing wrong. They chuckled at my defiance. They told me that rape was wrong, no matter what a sicko like me thinks. My mind wandered as they continued the beating. How was I being accused of rape, I had been with my girl the whole time until I left for the bar tonight. When they were done having their fun they put me in a metal box not much bigger than a refrigerator. They had it hooked up to a chain and they lifted me up by a tree branch. There the let me hang. This goon squad was just judge and jury, and I was figuring they would let mother nature be the executioner.

I sat in that box all night freezing, thinking that maybe they might come back in the morning to interrogate me. They didn’t, and I could hear the carrion crows circling the next afternoon anxious for their next meal. The box was pitch black and their caws reverberated through my head with sickening echoes. I sat and rubbed my body to keep warm throughout the next night. Sometime a couple of days later I was disturbed from my increasingly twisting thoughts of my oncoming death by the sound of a truck. I heard a few men talking below then I suddenly dropped to the ground. When they opened the box the midday sun blinded me. I started proclaiming my innocence, and they laughed as they strung the chain around my feet. I was brought to eye level hanging upside down. They continued to ask for my confession, this time saying she had died from what I had done. I told them with every punch that they had the wrong man, but they just continued with their onslaught. As my eyes adjusted to the bright light I noticed a sedan pulling up. They stopped as an older man rolled down a window. Another man I hadn’t noticed the other night walked over. After a few minutes he motioned to the thugs to let me down. They were told to get me a change of clothes and drop me back off at the bar. Then he said to me in perfect English that if I would help them find the real criminal, this would all be forgotten. Normally I would just tell them to hit the road with such an offer, but I was in no condition to argue, and frankly just grateful to still be alive. They said they would point him out to me at the bar. I was then loaded back into the truck and driven the hour or so back into Paris. It started to rain as we got out at the bar. We sat in a back corner and they bought me a few brandys while we waited, they explained to me that all I had to do was knock him to the ground, and they would take care of the rest. I they got him I was free to go. If not, they would get a confession out of me somehow. They said he was coming and so I was motioned to the front door. I was stumbling pretty bad after having been cramped in a box for a few days. The brandy wasn’t helping. I saw someone coming towards me on a bicycle as he came closer I lunged towards him and knocked him clean off. I saw them coming out of the alley as he was getting up. I started up the cobblestone street, ignoring his calling for help. That kind of criminal scum deserves what’s coming to him. I couldn’t wait to get back home to the rough streets of that rotten apple I call home.

More Writing Prompts Still

Like I said last week, I would be utilizing lots of writing prompts from around the interwebs. Today I am doing two. The first is for the Five Sentence Fiction writing prompt, this weeks word/theme is CANDY.  The second is for a contest called Thursday Threads, in which the phrase to be used in your story comes from the winners story from last week. Thanks for stopping by, Happy Reading!

Five Sentence Fiction-Candy

It was all a haze as he came back to consciousness, that decadent smell of candy, sugary sweet, whipped his thoughts into place.

“NO, did it happen again, I was sure I had it on it’s last leg?,” he hollered.

“I’m afraid you didn’t quite defeat him this time, but I’m sure that next time you will beat him handily my boy,” assured his father.

He was not unfamiliar with the hardships of this land, all the strange creatures that seemed surreal by terran standards that had become commonplace as a part of their existence on this remote planet. At the very least the supply ship had dropped off the colony’s rations of candy so that he would have a chance of recovering from the stinger of the beetle ox, and breaking it, then he could join the war party next season to protect the harvest.

 #ThursThreads

He stood there adrenaline pumping, bodies strewn across the field where they had done battle. He had not been in such a melee in his life. Even though they were half his size, the Rondrats gave him one hell of a fight. The Koochens rushed in and swept him up onto their shoulders, parading him back to the village. In the clan leader’s tent he heard recounts of his daring deeds in battle, it all seemed surreal. Just twelve days ago he was a simple farm boy on a colony planet. Now, according to the clan leaders, he was going to be the namesake of the village.  It was a much better monument than a cold stone in a manicured cemetery, which going in, he was certain was going to be the outcome.

1001 Pageviews

In just over 2 months I have reached 1001 pageviews. Most have been cursory, and most of those spam. Still it is an achievment. Huzzah!!! Thanks Interwebs!  : D

3 Word Wednesday Flash Fiction

 Another writing prompt for a mid week break. This one comes from 3wordwednesday. I hope you enjoy it and come back for some more interesting flash. Thanks for the read.

They were generous to him, he couldn’t figure out why. He had never done anything to gain there gratitude. In fact he had probably treated them more than unfair. He got back on his bicycle, now ladened down with all the supplies they thought he would need for the next few days. He made the rigorous trip on dirt roads back to the ole’ spread as Papa always called it. He kept a good lookout for those bastards. Life had been hard since they brought “The Program” around here. Many had thought that if we could just give people super skills, then our economic woes would be over. They moved westward from D.C. trying to be just in how they picked their guinea pigs. They weren’t, and most died horrible deaths from the reactions to the treatments. But those who were not twisted to death or whose disfigurement was on the inside, lurked along routes like bandits. He had already blasted a few off the property, but had yet had a face to face encounter with any.  He was approaching Pippen Hill, he reached down and grabbed hold of his little .22 pistol while still keeping control of the bike. He clinched his eyes tight and prayed he could make it up the hill with better time, he didn’t want Papa to penalize him for taking to long, fetchin’ after the hogs was just too much for him. He saw a glint at the top of the hill. Was it trash, he thought to himself, or was it someone laying in wait. He bore down on the pedals, and gripped the pistol tighter. He wasn’t gonna be late for Papa.

Tuesday Tales-Conjugal

Here is another writing prompt I came across while perusing the interwebs. Thanks as always for the read, if you like it check some others I have posted.

The orderlies led him into that same room. The morning sun coming through the window by the office chair. Dr. Brecker behind his desk.
"Sit, tell me what it is you want Yngvar?, he said.
"It has been over two weeks since I have had what you call a conjugal visit", he stated, "I demand to see my wife."
He knew the answer was always the same.  As he sat, staring out into the forest nearby, he wondered whether his village was being ransacked. They say his world is unknown. To him her skin was as real as his restraints.

A One-Minute Exercise

This one was a one minute writing exercise on the theme of Design. Could have done more, with more time of course. But you just might see this pop up later.

This had been his dream since long ago. Since his early days spent bumming around Europe. He was going to revive ergonomic sculpture in this country.

Oh and hey Technorati, there is this D7UDVJAF6EKF. 

#MotivationMonday and a Continuation

I said last week that it was going to be crazy around here for the next few weeks with all the writing prompts and contests I was entering. But this is a good kind of crazy and I think I can get a lot of great stuff out of them. This piece is inspired by the #MotivationMonday writing prompt. It is also a continuation of the 6Sunday piece I did yesterday. You can find that here. Thanks as always for the read.


I don't want to die, he thought, not from these God forsaken worms. The sisters were right, this was Armageddon. Good must prevail. As the blood red engorged sun set beyond the horizon it silhouetted what was left of the town he grew up in. Smoke billowed, and screams echoed through the hollow like racing winds on a spring day. But what could he do, he was just one kid. This was not something they taught in Home-Ec or Shop class. His only shot was to make it to his friend Tommy's house, his dad was a chemist. At least that's what he told people, but everyone knew he cooked meth. Still he was always good to Tommy and him, kept them out of trouble really. If he could get there his dad might be able to figure out what to do to stop these hideous creatures, plus they had lots of guns. He thought back on the last day or so. The dreams never prepared him for this, for all of this and the loss. He looked back down at his uncle's corpse, then screamed into the hills, I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

A Storm is Brewing

Yet another writing prompt, this one Sunday Scribblings. The theme was STORM, I did something a little different with it. I did scribble on this all day here and there between everything else. It is kinda fun, I like it. Hope you do too. Thanks for the read.

So I was doing my latest ebook signing at my local Walmart. The crowds had thinned due to the impending storm, but I knew something was up. People don't just put their shopping or ebook signings on hold because of bad weather. That was when I noticed her, either some poor coed with a flesh eating bacteria, or a zombie. Now you may say, how could a zombie just walk into Walmart without causing a fuss. One, our youth is so desensitized to zombies that they think nothing of it, and two, she wasn't going to find any brains to munch on in here. Why was she here then? I told my assistant to stay and watch my table, but he was a good shi-tsu and very obedient, not like one of those pugs whose eyes fall out. I stayed a few aisles behind. I didn't want her to notice me, my reputation in zombie circles had declined since a mistaken identity scandal back in '04. She was heading towards housewares, this was looking worse. If she was going after a Magic Bullet the impending storm could be a zombie apocalypse. You may think that a cheap infomercial blender in the hands of a zombie couldn't possibly mean the demise of civilization as we know it. For the most part you would be right, but this was too close to the date the Mayans had picked for total destruction so I wasn't taking any chances. I went to the opposite side of an aisle and grabbed a cleaver hanging on the shelf. I for one was not going to let this just happen, humanity was not going out like this. I curved round behind her fast as lightning. I was thunder crashing down on her, the cleaver parting her head from her neck. I noticed as I landed on top of her slumped body, the ointment for skin bacteria in her basket. Was I wrong? The zombies who stormed towards me had proven I wasn't.

Lets try Six for Sunday

I came across another wonderful writing prompt that I was able to us something else (that was going nowhere) for. Isn't that amazing when a dead end turns into a fully developed path. If you would like to participate in the Six Sentence Sunday challenge, have at it, it will be lots of fun. Once again, thank you for the read.

 

The boy sat there on the cliff, shaking, barely able to keep his hands on the rifle. His uncle, who was more like a brother to him lay dead, parts of the giant worm that tried to eat him still attached to his body. He’d like to pretend he didn’t know how this could happen. He knew it all to well according to the sisters down at the Antioch Primitive Baptist Church. They had told him he had a gift and what they said his dreams were of was this day, of Armageddon. The last battle between good and evil, and those worms were sure as hell evil. 

Prompts and Prompts and Prompts- OH MY!

So as you have noticed I found a new writing prompt on a blog. Well after reading some of the other entries I found a whole slew of new writing prompts out there.  I figure after a couple of weeks I wil have figured out which ones are attainable with that pesky thing called a work schedule. I will then organize all prompt entries accordingly. So basically the next few weeks will probably be crazy. Not only have I had some good writing crop up in the search, I have had some inspiration for our serial. I do believe that after I figure out how to separate prompts from other entries and the serial then we should be good to go. I am thinking it is going to be real fun.

 Right now though I have to go and work in the community garden.

No not that kind of garden, the one with vegetables. I'll be back soon to post another prompt. Thanks again for the read.

Five Sentence Fiction - Explosive

So being unfamiliar with the posting schedule of this really fun weekly writing prompt, I get to do another one in close succession. This week's theme is explosive. When I read that I immediately wanted to go check all my half done and false start flash pieces I had laying around (on my SD card ;).  I also started thinking about how this exercise is a real good way to distill these flash pieces down. That is how I came up with this week's story. So without further adieu here it is. Enjoy, and as always thanks for the read.

I could see his vein, you know the one just above his eye, that bulged every time that still of his wasn't doing what he thought it should be doing. I always found it best to make myself scarce when these situations arose. Pa hadn't given us much, it was barely a roof over our heads, and the treatment was nothing to be sought after, tempers flaring when it had anything to do with his moonshine. He had given us more than our Ma, who had brought herself to a sad state the last time I saw that vein of his act the way it was now. She had got herself blown up, thrown twenty feet off the kettle and scolded to death by the steam and mash, needless to say the hogs got their fill.

Five Sentence Fiction

His stomach wrenched with cavernous echoes. He could no longer take what he knew was coming, this moment in time where self sacrifice and survival became flesh. This was his reasoning for using his shoestring to tie his arm off at his elbow.

When he could no longer feel it, that was when he placed it over the small fire he had made to keep warm. As he started to eye his toes, he prayed the helicopter would show up soon.

 I just today came across this blog (thank you reddit)that does a unique writing exercise called Five Sentence Fiction. The blog is Lillie McFerrin Writes. This week was "your choice. After perusing the topics from weeks past I settled on Hunger. I kind of like it, and we may see more from our (protagonist?) soon enough. I think this will be a awesome new tool to help with flash pieces for submission, and our future serial here on Turncoat Racket, (don't think I've forgotten about it ;) ) amongst other things. Thanks again for the read.

The Internet, How to Journal, and Serials

The internet is big. Trying to figure out how to journal can be overwhelming. Serials are just their own bitch. But, that is what I am doing. Why? Well its back to work, vacation is over. Mundanity abounds. Yeah, I know mundanity is not a word but I like it...so there. Vacations are a funny thing. You have extra time in a different, hopefully fun place. So you want to maximize your time doing those fun things. Writing gets thrown to the back burner for bike rides, hikes, souvenirs, and sitting by the pool. Let's all face it writing is not a fun thing. Don't get me wrong, writing is inspirational and exciting, but it is work. Which when you are on vacation is what you are trying to avoid. I also am a bad motivator and missed a few deadlines while out there. Now that I am back into the routine of work and kids, I need to transfer what I felt and ideas I had on my trip back into my still in progress writing schedule. I have tried a similar approach to Dali wherein he would doze off then wake himself with a dropping spoon then immediately draw what he had dreamed. I have taken to fishing those ideas swirling in early morning before totally awake. I try to get a few starting lines and an idea of direction, and when I can't keep it going only in my head I start to put it to tablet.

So bare with me over the next couple of weeks as I try to reestablish my routine on this site and work on serials for here as well. Leave comments to let me know what direction you would like to see things going. More as a journal for me to spurt into the internet, or a place to find my flash and poetry. I think the serials will provide that, a sense of journaling, but also some fictitious work as well. Once I get them going feel free to subscribe so that you are not left out. Thanks again for the read, see ya next time around.

Writing in the Desert

Writing in the desert is an interesting thing. There is lots to do and see, which means there is lots to see and do. So this is now our fourth day in the Desert resort of Cibola Vista. (Which even though it sounds like it is nothing like Ebola Fist-a.) I have rode my bike everyday and hiked up a couple of trails nearby. We have ate great food along the way. I highly recommend The Big Texan if in Amarillo. The one thing I haven't done is much writing. In fact I haven't done any writing really. But hey I am on my anniversary vacation. So I let one deadline go by, and another is on its way. I had a great time with my wife of ten years. I have been indelibly imprinted with this landscape in my mind and I would not be surprised if these things don't start popping up in upcoming works.

A poem from the Valley of the Sun

So we made it to the Valley of the Sun. Peoria specifically. I read a little Pablo Neruda this morning while drinking some coffee. Before I went on a bike ride a had a little poem pop into my head. Hope you enjoy, Happy Reading.

O tell me a story
O Great Muse
So that I might learn
Of your impressive ways
Or your indignation towards man
Others doth protest
Only few are privileged for your grace
So be it, and neglect me
Open handed and without cause
Orneriness is in my veins

A post about slug sex and the Vegas marriage bureau

That sounds odd doesn't it. I mean who would write about either of those things. Come on slug sex AND Las Vegas marriage bureau. Well folks it was the Muse that brought such a thought. So I ran with it, and after Saturday's errands are done it is back at it. I don't know who I'll give first shot at this to. One thing is for sure stay tuned here too find out where on the interwebs you'll be able to find this story.

Le Coq Bleu (or penis enlargement exercises gone awry)

What follows is a cautionary take of penis enlargement exercises. There is strong language, so don't read it at bedtime to the children.

Le Coq Bleu
By Warren Danbar

Damn! Shit! Fuck!
He had no idea what to do.  His parents were going to be home anytime now and the family pekinese was stuck, dead on his cock.  He had been trying for the last half hour to get it off, but its sphincter tighten in its death throws.   Perhaps it would be easier to dislodge it, but the little blue pill he took earlier wasn't helping.  He sat down and looked back at how he got here.  When his parents left for their getaway, he did what any fifteen year old boy would do.  He called his girlfriend and took the viagra he stole from his grandma.  He knew she kept them around for her menagerie of boyfriends, and she wouldn't miss them.  His girlfriend arrived just in time.  His cock had gotten so hard it was hurting to keep his pants on.  They were making out on the couch downstairs.  His hand up her shirt, and her hand creeping toward the pole in his pants that strained the skin it was so erect. 
As she rubbed it she said, "Looks like someone is happy to see me."
Just then his cock tore through his jeans. 
"Damn right Bitch!" It said.
Thats right his cock was alive and talking, and it had an attitude.  It swelled then shot a wad right at her mouth.    Twisting, it shot another at his mouth it was like glue, and they couldn't open their mouths. 
"Now Daddy is talking and we're gonna have fun!" He ordered.
He ripped off her clothes with a load that was like  spiderman's web shooters.  It proceeded to stick her to the wall with well aimed shots.  He looked down in horror at what his cock was doing.  It was growing and was nearly a foot long and three inches around.  He grabbed it with both hands and tried to strangle it.  It just laughed at him.
"Keep stroking sweetheart", it said.
It started pulling him towards her outstretched nubile body.  He feared for what was about to happen.  Thats when Fluffy,the family pekinese, came running in because of the commotion.  She let out a gagged scream. The now sixteen inches it had grown was nearly to her body.  He called the dog to him and with one swift motion he slammed his cock deep into it.  Fluffy whimpered and tried to paw her way off his cock.  His body was thrashing as his cock tried to remove itself.  It shot off a bunch in an attempt get free, but it just got tangled more in its own jizz.  He felt it stop writhing, but was still hard as a rock.  He could feel Fluffy go limp as he struggled to free his girlfriend.  She grabbed her clothes and ran screaming from the house.  He couldn't blame her.  He would like to run screaming from the house.  He tried and tried to pull the dog of his swollen cock.
Damn! Shit! Fuck!
As he came to, he saw his parents standing over him.
"You better have a damn good explanation for this!", yelled his Father.
His mother just hid her face into his father's chest as she weeped.  He looked around to assess the situation.  The good news was Fluffy was not dead.  The bad news was his still erect penis was laying severed in the floor next to him.  He was in and out of conciousness as the paramedics came and took him.  After the surgery he was placed in an asylum for youngsters. Then one day a good looking nurse happened to notice that his cock was poking straight up in his scrubs. 
"Looks like someone is feeling better." She said laughingly.
As he looked down a revolting feeling engulfed his body. Then he heard a low murmur.
"Daddy is back"

New Bizarro Fiction is Up

Well there it is folks. After long last a new flash bizarro fiction piece has been published to these interwebs of ours. Head on over and give it a read for yourself. I hope you enjoy it. I will be getting back to the serial I'm trying to shape up for this blog. It was inspired by something I read on reddit. It has real possibility as a serial of bizarro adventurism. I'm thinking that we could have a weekly installment, that would be maintainable. Wink wink it has something to do with Salvador Dali.

A Poem or Two

Here is a poem or two I thought up while riding my bike today.

Wo these spring trees smell
Like old ladies gone astray
Come home Sunday's Eve

Grown boys tussle
With barefeet and rolled jeans
I find this space taken
Deep in group conciousness
We're all in bloom

Lizard scampers from lush to lush
My heart is dry, Coming to ends
Reminds me of beginnings
Push hard, break through
Spring burns into summer
Find seeds have withered

Here we are again
Nostalgic Americana
Rural beards remember
Rustic righteousness

Whispy old women
Fragrant flowering spring trees
Where will I go next

Just some stuff that came to me while riding today.
Thanks for the read.

Submissions, Pirate TV, and a Book Review

Well avid readers, I was accepted for the march issue on In Between Altered States. Head on over when they get it up. I will post a link here when it is live.  I hope to be knocking out a few episodic rantings for this locale only soon, so hang in there.  I finished The Sun Never Rises on The Big City, you can get it here at the kindle store   and read my review here at goodreads. In other news I decided to check out pirate tv for some reason, and here is how you do it.  Creativity abounds this morn but unfortunately there is bill paying work to do. So I will leave you with this.  I don't know why.  Thanks for the read.

Issues When I Edit Online

Well just an update for you, I recently joined reddit and stumbleupon which have increased traffic.  So I thought I would add the social bookmarking gadget that blogger has. This is where it is unfortunate.  I can't seem to get it to show up when I view the blog.  Do me a favor if you all would.  If it shows up for you bookmark it to twitter, reddit, stumbleupon, de.li.cious, etc.  If not leave a comment down below. Thanks again. 

On to other news. The editor on the previous submission is willing to let me change some parts to keep it in the current issue, but also said that she would use it in an upcoming issue unedited.  After stewing and milling for a couple of days, I think the part is too central to what is happening to change.  Hopefully she will use it a couple of months from now.  Thanks again for reading.

Still Tryin'

The good news is I got my submission in, in time. Bad news is they're not sure they wanna use it. Which really is not that bad for someone like me. The other bad news, which I know I'm gonna get flack, is they said it was a lot like Clockwork Orange, which I have not seen. So there. Hopefully with some minor editing or if they have a change of heart, they will go forward with publishing it. Now on to the next deadline. This one is not so bizarro as experimental. I found it on Duotrope. I'm also in the process of looking to submit to another journal, and am in the process of familiarizing myself with previous published works.

Success, of sorts

Well, trusty followers, I made another deadline. Between that and the way reddit has blown up today, I may be on my way. I am still trying to figure out the format of this blog, as to keep it relevant and updated.  So that no one is left behind. Remember that all official news I will post on http://turncoatracket.blogspot.com  and all micro fiction can be found @warrendanbar

Limbering up

There was some unexpected work, plus you don't really get time to write while on spring break with kids.  That said I have had a few ideas and beginnings.  The bane of this writer's career is having something cool, getting going with it, and then WHAM, nothing.   I have said in the past that this was primarily going to be a journal of sorts, with major announcements being handled on my other site warrendanbar.webs.com .  The other reasoning for not posting stories, per se, here was not to conflict with any other internet publishings.  I think that I will try to limit micro fiction to my twitter account @warrendanbar and maybe put more story thoughts or short flash here.  Meaning longer flash and short stories will be what is published more around the interwebs.  So expect a little more unresolved bits of work.  Feel free, as always, to comment on the posts that arouse any thoughts.

Some Minor Changes

I've went through the blog, and fine tuned and tweaked.  The result of this endeavor?  You can now leave comments.  So please do, on any post you have enjoyed.  I should hope to have another post tomorrow morning my time.  That is lunch-ish for those of you with the romantic language persuasion.  More like dinner for those of you in siberia.  I have a couple of deadlines bearing down on me.  Which means I will probably write something I don't need to, then post it here.  Thanks again for reading!

Spring Break is Here

So with the kids being out of school this upcoming week, we are going out of town.  We have plans for mini golf, bicycling, canoeing, go-carts, and swimming.  All in all a fun week indeed.   With this time of leisure, I will try to wrap up and get sent off some flash pieces I have just laying around starting at me.  One thing I seem to be focusing on is finding my voice or particular style.  I'm not the same writer I was 10, 12 years ago.  A lot of my writing seems forced or contrived.  I come up with great ideas, starting points, or locales.  For lack of something coherent I try to brewed up the word count.  Well that's all for right now.  I'll try to keep the posts up and going while away.

Stuff coming, Stuff going

I just resent a submission that I hadn't heard anything on. I have a couple that are in mid   draft form and a third waiting in wings for deadline to get closer.  If all goes right could have 3 new pieces rockin the web by the end of next month or earlier.  I will make details available when I have them.

How to ebooks, not so hard

Well if you ever wanted to be a writer in this century, your looking for a how to ebooks compilation. This is not it. But I too am trying to find my way in this Brave New World of internet and electronic publishing. I am batting around some ideas for a free smashwords compilation of my work, just a primer of stuff.  Every book needs a cover to be judged by and I think the one to the right is a fitting specimen. A background may still be in order, I'm not sure.  I'd love to know your opinion.  A working title right now is  Rejects of the 21st Century. If there is anything you'd like to see either put in or left out please give me a holler as I have final say.  I will try to organize by theme and length but hereto have no decision on style or content.

New Week, New Ideas

So, after a few drinks with the new Mia Energy, I was unable to get to sleep real well.  While laying in bed I had a few ideas.  I didn't want to antagonize my lack of sleep, so I just lay there, plotting over these ideas.  Eventually I found myself in a state between awake and unconciousness.  morning soon came and I jotted down the ideas.  I think that we will find them online soon at some of our favourite bizarro sites.

Hmmm

The whirlwind that was the O.C. is over.  I wish I could've done more.  But some ideas did come about from the speakers I heard. They are not appropriately adaptable for the erotica I write, so I will have to find another angle to write from. That shouldn't be too hard, but will have to plot it out well. A departure from the way I normally write.  We'll see if I can integrate this new material into upcoming submissions.  With soo much still in the wings, I'm getting anxious to get some more up on the interwebs.  With that I would like to welcome my friends from Brasil.  Olá! a todos meus ventiladores do brasileiro.

Good start, bad 2nd lap

My flight out of Dallas was delayed, switched gates 3 times then once boarded, we find out a small hole in cargo hold needs to be fixed. Back off the plane. Still waiting.

A Lil Sumpin About Airplane Flying'

I worked this short piece about airplane flying up on the short leg to Dallas. Hope you enjoy.

That infernal squeeking!  The plane lunged to and fro. He was sure they were accelerating, an unwise decision in his opinion, but how could you tell at 28,000 feet. These kind of motions were what killed teenagers on hilly backroads. His stomach crying out, "Please God, chill out up there!"  Everyone around him stoic. Damn business travelers, they had seen it all. Nothing phased them. He tried to find solace in the complementary magazine.  J-Lo's newest pop culture endeavor was almost taunting him. That's right this will be the last thing you ever read.   He was getting ready to make sure his priorities were in line.  Then the clouds broke.  They leveled out.  Rattling overheads slowing their pace.  Sun, bathing fluffy spires.  He found a new joy and resilience in that moment.  Everything was fine.  The captain came over the speaker, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are starting our descent."

What is Life? GRRRR!

There are questions, and then there are QUESTIONS. This is the latter. What is Life? My answer, GRRRR! It is as follows. I got to commute to work on my bike yesterday, which was nice.  I also got a fence up around our garden.  Got to keep the rabbits out you know.  But all this led to a great tiredness, so I went to bed quick.  As has been the case the last few days when I finally lay down ideas start to flood my mind.  If I get up I don't sleep, if I sleep I don't get the ideas jotted down.  Damn this infernal business! I have travel coming up so maybe on the plane ride or in airport can write.  I have about five ideas or so that I can go between so no burning out cause of lost trains of thought or lack of je ne sais quoi.  I have a deadline in two weeks the other at the end of the month.  But such is the life of Warren Danbar Bizarro author

First Spring Bike Commute

After a week or so of conditioning, I'm going to be making my first commute to work on my bike this spring.  Hopefully the ideas will flow as the wheels turn. I have a couple of starters that seem like they might have some place to go. I'm real excited to get out of the humdrum of winter, even though it hasn't been too bad. I feel I can allow the ideas to simmer as I just focus on pedalling and rhythm in a very zen manner. I never feel the endorphines per se, but the high I get is the ideas swirling and taking shape.

Saturday Night's Allright for Fightin...

So it seems like the laundry was flowing too much and the rum not enough.  The dubstep rhythm was not able to align itself with any ideas wanting to flow. So the rum will flow a little faster and we have the indie rock to get us going.  Lets see if by this time tomorrow I don't have a flash piece or start to a short.

Saturday Ya'll

Shoegaze, Dubstep, intermittent laundry, and rum before noon.  That folks is what drives bizarro in the Danbar Household.  Checking out other blogs and twitter.  We'll see if something festers.

The Future

Looking forward to a Smashwords ebook.  Don't know yet if it will be a collection/anthology or if it will be a new format the "Guardone".  That's Italian for peeping tom.  Maybe bizarro with a voyeuristic flair.

A Hardy Welcome

Hello to all who enjoy bizarro fiction.  My name is Warren Danbar.  I am starting this blog as a journal of sorts.  I will try to keep people updated on when things get published on other sites or in print.  I will refer you to my twitter account @warrendanbar when I have a flash of micro fiction brilliance.  I also will try to think out the writing process.  I probably will write about the music I'm listening to while writing. All in all it will be genuinely interesting, I hope.
Thanks again for reading.

Warren Danbar