Continuing the Challenge. Flash Fiction for 10 Days in July.




Long past when I could remember, I was born in the very house which I was standing.  I was burdened to clean out all the things that our family collected over the years, but the task revealed a family secret I had never known.

Cleaning out my Grandmother’s attic after she passed away changed my life. I learned more that day about who I was and where I came from than any other day prior. It wasn’t a day where I would’ve cleaned out all her belongings and make bare the house where she raised me; no, it was the day I learned of my sister.

Opening a trunk near the back wall, I found a photo book with pictures of my mother holding me, but it wasn’t just me she was holding. She held two baby girls, one on each arm. I couldn’t tell which child was me, but I recognized how I looked when I was that little girl. At that moment I knew the other child was my sister, my twin sister.

I stood and walked to the other side of the attic. As I collected my thoughts, I noticed a mirror covered by a dirty sheet resting from top to bottom but revealing the slightest sliver of glass near the side. Pulling on the sheet and removing it from the mirror, I saw my reflection.

As I looked closer, my reflection didn’t move in the way I would’ve expected. The woman in the mirror put her hands on her hips and smiled at me. I flinched and stepped back, but the woman reflecting in the glass tilted her head and giggled.

“Please don’t be frightened. I won’t harm you.”

I drew in a shuddered breath. “Who are you?”

“Silly, I’m your twin sister.”

“My sister? How are you doing this?”

“It’s not me doing anything. I wanted you to see me before it’s too late.”

“Too late? Too late for what?” I asked.

“You need to hurry. The German’s will soon begin their nightly bombing on London, and you don’t want to be up here when the Devil comes to pay homage.”

“I want to know what happened – what happened to you?”

“You will know soon enough, but you must make haste to the cellar before the Luftwaffe arrive, and before all is lost.”

I hurried down the stairs as the bombs began blasting.




Into the Jungle

She knew if she made it to the tribe’s camp, the Shaman would help her. The Shaman of the most feared tribe in all of the jungle. But she had to make a run for it when the guard went down to get his morning meal. It wouldn’t be easy, and it certainly had to be quick.

She watched for the Jeep to pull into camp while she pulled the loose boards from the frame. Tugging one last time, she made enough room to slip through and make her way to freedom, at least free to run for help.

Lying on her blanket and pretending to sleep, she listened for the sounds of gravel being churned up by the tires of the vehicle. The delivery was late that morning. She stayed motionless as the sounds of men speaking at the large tent became animated.

“¿Dónde está el camión de comida?” The voice carried up the hill to her shack.

“¡Cállate! Va a ser aquí.” Another voice pierced through the camp.

She knew the men were getting agitated and today might be too risky, but she also knew today had to be the day she made her move. They would likely move her to a new camp by afternoon, and that might make her escape impossible. It had to be this morning or never.

A voice cried out near the camp entrance. “¡Ahí está! ¡Nuestra comida está llegando!”

She thought it might be her chance. Did the voice yell— “There it is! Our food is coming!”?  He did—She thought.

It was time. She peeked to see the guard check on her one more time before he went down the hill to get his meal. He put his rifle over his shoulder,  turned and began his walk down the path to the middle of camp.

“Now!” She whispered. Pulling the boards back, she squirmed and wiggled her way through the opening. Once she cleared her feet from the shack, she stood and ran toward the upper mountains.

Her strides stretched wide, and her legs burned, but she kept her pace. She heard the yells coming from the camp but they faded the closer she moved toward the mountain.

Stopping to put her hands on her knees to catch her breath, she heard a voice in front of her. Looking up, she saw an Elder and the tribe’s Shaman.

The Shaman smiled and held out his hand. “I have been expecting you, Maria.” He took her hand. “You are most welcome here, and you are safe.”


Thank for Reading!

All my Love,


Continuing the Challenge…


Here are two more Flash Fiction pieces from the 10-day FF writing Challenge.

Let Me

“This is not how I imagined our first time together.”

“Me either.” He took his hands and went down the sides of her bare skin to her hips.”

Water poured over their heads and splashed beads, tiny globes on their faces. The air filled with thin mist and the glass door began to run streaks from the top to the floor. She looked at his chest then leaned into him as he pulled her close, naked body against the other.

She looked up and into his eyes. “You know we should have done this a long time ago?”

“I know. If I knew you were attracted to me, I would have taken you years ago.”

“You would?”


She stood on her toes, and they kissed while water poured over their heads. Bare skin to bare skin they slid their hands across each other’s bodies.

He looked into her eyes. “You have one chance. Use the Atropine and get your suit on as fast as you can.”

“I wished there was one more suit.”

He smiled. “You need to go before the Sarin Gas fills the room.”

She kissed him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay. Just let me burn.”




He opened the door. She put her arms over his shoulders and around the back of his neck. She felt his lips brush across hers, then she took in a breath that calmed every nerve in her body. Her back softened as he pulled her tighter, and she felt every butterfly rise to heights in her chest she never knew. Moving his head back to see her eyes, he smiled and held out his hand for her to follow.

He gestured for her to sit, then went to the counter to grab two glasses of chardonnay. He lowered his eyelids. “I didn’t know if you changed your mind about coming to see me tonight.”

“I wanted to see you.” She slid on the couch to make room for him to sit. “I wanted to talk.”

He sat next to her. “Talk about what?”

She drew in a breath, let out a sigh, and blinked her eyes. “You know I love you?”

“I know, and I love you too.”

“But… I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“Why are you worried?”

“Because I’ve been thinking about someone else.”

He moved to a chair across from her. “You have?”

“Yes, it’s true.” She reclined back into the couch. “I met him last week, and I can’t get him off my mind. I’m thinking of him all the time, and I don’t know who I want.”

“You do. You do know who you want.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because…if you want him, you should be with him.”

“But I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not losing me… you gave me up to have him on your mind.” He stood and went to the door. Opening it up, he smiled. “Go be with him and be happy. You’ll always have my love —Goodbye.”


Thanks for reading!

All my Love,



Daughter of Peace

Flash Fiction Challenge

We are all creators. We create everything about our lives. Art, Music, Writing, are some things we might create. We also create our world in which we live, right down to the details. We build relationships with others, and we play out our dramas within the boundaries we set, including some relationships that are less than positive.

What I’m going to explore here is directly related to Creative Writing. It is one of my outlets, and it is one of my vocations.

I have a friend overseas who is a leader in her sphere, and she influences many lives in such positive ways that it’s made me rethink how I see my world in my everyday experience.

One of the things she does is challenge her group to write Flash Fiction. I’ve never tried that platform before, but it’s one she often chooses to keep her team motivated to expand their abilities and become better at their craft.

My friend started a 10-day Flash Fiction Challenge beginning on July 1st and ends on July 10th. She will give daily writing prompts with a minimum and maximum word count. She has a set time for the finished work to be posted, and it is set for 8 pm local time for her group.

Doing a challenge such as this makes for some interesting results.  So far I’ve written four stories, and each is different from the other. I kept to my friend’s boundaries except for the word counts. My stories have exceeded her maximum word counts, but don’t tell her. She may discipline me for the violation. =)

Anyway, here is one of the stories I posted. I may post the rest throughout this challenge, but for now here is my piece titled “Daughter of Peace” based on the prompt – Horror story with a baby.


Daughter of Peace

“Please, Hans. She is but a child.” Erica cradled her daughter close to her chest.

Hans walked in a circle around the mother and child. “She doesn’t have the disease. Why do you want me to take her?”

Erica sat on a tree stump near the open fire. Sweeping her gaze across the camp, she then looked into Hans’ eyes. “I’m dying.” She looked down at her sleeping child. “I have no one left, and I want her to become resilient in the ways of nature – like you.”

“What do you believe I can do for this child?”

“Teach her.” She reached out the baby to Hans. “She is strong in every way, but she has no guidance after I’m gone.”

“I don’t know what I can teach this child.” He turned and walked to his medicine bag hanging from a nearby oak tree. “I can only teach her what I know, and I know very little about the new magic which man is toiling.” He opened the bag and took out a stone shining a violet gleam.

Erica held her daughter out to him. “Please, Hans. Take her and teach her.”

“Once I take her there will be no going back. She will be set on a path.”

“I want this for my daughter.”

“You will never see her again.”

“My time is short.”

Hans looked into Erica’s eyes, then fixed his gaze on the child. “Indeed… this is true.”

“She will be no trouble to you.”

He brushed the violet stone on the face of the infant girl. “She will be the bane of man. She will become every fear for the wicked, and she will open everything dark and unleash evil itself on all who practice in hateful things.”

Erica’s eyes teared as she rested her daughter in his arms. “Violet, my child, my love.”

“She is no longer your baby.” Hans began to walk around the fire while touching her forehead. “You are the daughter of the world. You are the weapon of peace with the tongue of a Dragon and the venom of the Felderfer Spider found in the caves of the Giants, the  Colossus of Moyiel.”

The young mother watched as her daughter became like the wind, flowing and transparent. Erica watched her become the Specter most men fear. She became death to all who practice evil. She became the Wraith.

All my Love,


Write it Anyway


If you are thinking of writing a Novel, you might want to read this.

This isn’t necessarily for only writing Novels. It’s for anyone writing anything. This little letter is to “you.”

To whom it may concern. Write your first novel. Write it as you see it and pour it out onto paper. Breathe your words into it and let your passion brush the pages with your prose. Your first draft of your first Novel is the hardest to write. It gets easier the more Novels one writes. The multi-Novelists can attest to the philosophy of writing it, even if it’s crap, no matter what, write it. In the end, it will be edited, rewritten, edited again, then sent to an Editor, not to mention the beta reads in the entire process. When it’s all done, it’s ready, and it’s a far cry from the first draft. In the beginning, especially for the new and aspiring authors, keep writing it and don’t worry if it’s good or if people will like it. Keep writing it and leave self judgement out of the process.

All my Love,