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I think the other ladies are trying to kill us off. Two flash fictions in a week. How did no one notice this in the schedule, because I think it’s all year long, lol. Anyway, it’s another episode of Promptly Penned. And not cheating this time, like the picture flash fiction. I WILL write something new, damn it, if it kills me….here’s the prompt…

“I thought I’d made it clear we have a no abduction policy.”

“She wasn’t cooperating. What did you expect me to do?”

Once again, I will endeavour to use the prompt in the opening two lines… though I’ll have to add in a bit to make it work. That’s not cheating, right? Otherwise, it’s the same as everyone else, lol.

“I thought I’d made it clear we have a no abduction policy.”

Devlyn Adams ignored the biting tone, glancing at the Director in the mirror as she finished taping the laceration across her lower ribs closed. She shrugged one shoulder, wincing as the strip pulled tight against her skin. “She wasn’t cooperating. What did you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know, oh wait…try calling for backup.” Director Tom Smithers speared his fingers through his hair, destroying the perfectly combed style. “As it stands, I had to send in two clean up crews just to get the damn motel room put back together before someone called the cops. What happened to ‘observe and report back’? Of not making contact? And how the hell did a communications specialist get the jump on you?”

Devlyn tamped down the anger sizzling beneath her skin. After the night she’d had, the last thing she needed was to have her competence questioned. She turned, exhaling slowly as she stared at the man standing no more than a couple of feet away. “You know, I’m not sure what I find more insulting—that you’re pissed I did my job, or…” She waved at the wound. “You think that glorified secretary actually did this.”

The man’s lips twitched as his gaze dropped to her side then back up. He crossed his arms on his chest, still glaring at her. “What, exactly, are you trying to say, Agent Adams? That you didn’t just fuck up seven months worth of covert operations? That clocking your mark over the head and dragging her ass back to our facility—our previously undisclosed facility—was somehow for the greater good? Because not only will Ms. Evergreen know we’ve been spying on her, her damn superiors will know, too. Which means the chance of gathering more evidence is a big fucking zero.”

“I guess that depends on your definition.” She grabbed her top, clenching her teeth against the stabbing pain as she tugged it over her head. Thank god she always kept spare clothing at the damn office. “And I was under the impression the main objective was to keep Ms. Evergreen alive.”

“Devlyn. My patience is waning.”

She reached into her pocket, handing over a small USB drive. “That was all I could grab before I had bug out. But considering Slader showed up on her doorstep…”

He snagged her elbow as she went to move past him. “Slader?”

“The one and only. And he wasn’t there to sell cookies.”

“Shit. It’s happening already.” Smithers pointed down the hallway. “My office. Now.”

“Can I grab a drink, first? I hate taking Motrin without something.”

Devlyn bit back a smile when Smithers mumbled a string of obscenities, heading off in front of her. She detoured to the kitchen, grabbing a pop before making her way to his door. He’d left it opened at a forty-five, the telltale murmur of voices drawing her to a halt. She listened for a few moments, trying to place the familiar tone when the room went silent.

She cursed inwardly, drawing herself up before stepping into the room. Smithers watched her from the window on the opposite wall, two chairs positioned on her side of his desk. Shaggy brown hair and a leather jacket occupied the seat on the right, the width of the man’s shoulders making her trip a step. She’d recognize that silhouette anywhere. Her heart rate kicked up, her breath slightly raspy as she moved farther inside, her hands fisted at her sides. Now wasn’t the time for a freaking reunion, not if it involved him.

Smithers motioned to the chair, raising a brow when she merely crossed her arms on her chest, her gaze sliding to the man then back to her boss. The man snorted. “Just sit the hell down, Devlyn, before you fall down from loss of blood. Don’t think I missed how much was on that towel, or that you’d probably left a bunch more at the scene…and in your car…and…”

She waved for him to stop, this time staring directly at the other man. “I’ll sit just as soon as you tell my why the hell Ryker’s occupying the other one? Last time I checked, he’d bought a one-way ticket to ‘fuck you’.”

Ryker chuckled, gaining his feet before twisting to face her. Her chest tightened painfully as her lungs seemed to stop working. God, the man looked just as hot as she remembered. Tousled hair that brushed his collar. The perfect amount of scruff shadowing his chin and his eyes—she’d never seen eyes that blue. That captivating. She did a quick sweep of his body, praying he’d somehow lost his appeal only to swear under her breath at the obvious strength hidden beneath the leather and denim. She’d always been a sucker for a guy with an impressive torso and Ryker had muscles to spare.

He smirked when her gaze finally landed on his face. “I told the Director you’d be happy to see me. Glad you didn’t disappoint, Dev.”

“Oh, I’m happy to see you as long as I can use my gun to say hello.” She took a calculated step forward. “As I recall, I still owe you a bullet—or ten.”

His expression sobered as he broke eye contact, scanning the room before settling on her again. “If I’d known you’d been hurt—”

“Save it. Any explanation you might have offered is six months too late.” She looked at Smithers. “You’re obviously busy. I’ll come back when you’re ready to discuss Slader.” She spun when the floor creaked behind her.

“That’s far enough, Devlyn.” Smithers voice boomed through the small space, making the hairs on her nape prickle. “I know you and Ryker have history, but…” He waved at the chair when she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Sit. Down.”

She pursed her lips, wondering if she’d make it down the hallway before either of the men caught her when the room dimmed a bit. She took a stumbling step forward, nearly tripping against the open door when a hand snagged her arm, tugging her against a wall of solid muscle. She blinked, giving her head a slight shake as some of the dizziness lifted, leaving her staring into a sea of blue.

Ryker tsked, forcefully maneuvering her over to the chair. “Sit, or you’ll need more than a row of Sterie Strips to keep the blood on the inside of you.”

She pulled against his hold when he crowded her, his face an inch from his.

He cocked his brow in that annoying way that made her want to smack the backside of his head. “Dev. Just…sit. Please.”

The painful tone of his voice caught her off-guard, and she all but fell into the seat as her legs buckled. Christ, she hurt. While the long, jagged cut along her ribs was the worst of her wounds, the multitude of bruises she knew were starting to purple along her torso weren’t much better.

Ryker waited to see if she’d push back to her feet before nodding and moving over to his chair. He kept half his attention focused on her as he slid onto the hard wood, motioning to the Director.

Smithers shook his head. “Stubborn, as usual.”

She glared at Ryker, shifting her gaze to her boss. “I’d say I’m being more than polite under the circumstances. And what the hell as Ryker got to do with the case?”

Smithers sighed, stepping over to his desk then palming the surface. “You said Slader showed up? Tried to kill our mark?”

“Rang the damn doorbell like she was expecting him. I barely had enough time to charge the room, break the window and stop the bastard from putting a few rounds in her head. Her screaming and trying to run off didn’t help matters any.”

“I’m sure nearly dying then watching a couple of trained agents try to kill each other was upsetting to the poor woman.”

“Then maybe she shouldn’t have gotten involved with organized crime.” Devlyn pushed a hand through her hair, wincing when she brushed across a few more cuts. “So…you were going to tell me why I’m sitting beside the one man I’d like to stab through the heart?”

Ryker chuckled again. “Like I’m the only man you want to do that to. I know you better, sweetheart. There’s a list.”

She looked over at him, giving him a sweet smile. “Yeah. One with your name written over and over and over.”

“Enough.” Smithers shook his head. “Damn you two are like fire and gasoline. Never know when everything is going to simply blow up.” He leaned toward her. “And Ryker’s here because there’s been a new development.”

She arched a brow. “Other than having an assassin gunning for me?”

Ryker shrugged. “Trust me. That’s nothing compared to what you’re really up against.”

Smithers sank into his seat. “Afraid the man’s right. Slader’s involvement confirms it, though I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped Ryker was wrong. Exaggerating the situation.”

She took a deep breath, wondering if she’d hit her head harder than she’d thought. “Am I supposed to know what the hell you’re both talking about? Because I don’t.”

Smithers smiled. “Don’t worry. Your partner will fill you in.”

Her stomach dropped as a loud ringing sounded in her ears. “Partner?”

Smithers motioned to Ryker. “Afraid so, Devlyn. Until this case is closed, you’re on loan to the Agency. And Ryker’s your new partner.”

 

That’s it for me. Why are all these posts of mine so long, lol? Anyway, check out the other ladies. I’m sure they have some awesome tales to tell.

Bronwyn Green  |  Kayleigh Jones  |  Paige Prince  |  Gwendolyn Cease

 

So, it’s picture flash fiction Monday for March and here’s the awesome photo… However…

 

 

Here’s the thing. I’ve got nothing. Not a damn thing. My middle kid is in the midst of hockey finals, and I was at the rink for 5 hours tonight. Will be at the rink tomorrow for about 7… and I’m just out of ideas. I’m working on a new book, and all my focus is on that. I know, I had lots of time to come up with something but try as I might, I just didn’t have anything new materialize, so, you can either…

1. Jump directly to the other ladies listed as so…

Bronwyn Green  |  Kayleigh Jones  |  Paige Prince

2.  I’ve reposted the Prologue to GRAVE MEASURES, as it actually fits this scene perfectly. And is actually one of my favorite images in the post. I know… it’s a copout, but I’ve just got nothing. Obviously, my planning ahead to not be stressing over flash fiction the night before hasn’t exactly been a stellar hit, but… I’m trying. Cheers,

Come to me, Daniel. I’m waiting. I’ll always be waiting.

“No!”

Daniel Cartwright bolted upright, his echoed voice still hanging in the room. Sweat stung his eyes as it dripped down his forehead, his heart pounding against his ribs. He tossed back the thin blanket and swung his feet to the side, the cool press of the hardwood floor grounding him slightly. He stared at his hands until his vision adjusted to the dark, not surprised at the tremor that seemed to have taken hold.

It’d been six months, and he still dreamt of her every night. Still felt the panic of having her disappear. The pain of finding her bloody. Broken. Dead.

Daniel.

He cupped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the voice. Her voice. Not that it’d do any good. She’d simply move inside his head—whisper her siren’s song over and over like a message on a loop. Drive him to the edge only to disappear as the sun peeked above the horizon—the light stealing her power as the clawed away the shadows. But she’d return with the stroke of midnight. Test his sanity one more time…

An image flashed in his mind, the clarity of it stealing his ragged breath. She was dressed in white, her long chestnut hair lifting off her shoulders in the breeze. Those brilliant green eyes had filled with hope as she’d picked up her shoes and turned, walking barefoot along the path. She’d stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, laughing before daring him to catch her. Then she’d taken off, the soft cadence of her footfalls drifting along the breeze.

He’d waited. Given her a head start. Knowing he’d catch her before she’d reached the pond down the trail on the other side of the hill. He’d smiled, already imagining her silhouette flashing in and out of view amidst the trees as the path wove through a small copse—the source of their privacy once they’d reached the cool water. He’d pictured stripping her down—watching her pale skin gleam in the late afternoon sun. How she’d react to his every touch. How she’d feel moving beneath him, her body surrounding him, the slick slide of his cock mixing with the raspy sound of their breath. The way her fingers would clench his back as she climaxed around him.

After months of arguing and separate rooms, they’d decided to give their love one more chance. He’d taken her there—where they’d first made love. God, it seemed a lifetime ago. But he’d been willing to try—to give his heart to her one more time, even though a part of him worried she’d never truly be his. That his job would always stand between them—an invisible wall he’d never be able to break down.

His badge. That’s what it was ultimately about. His shiny silver star and the gun on his hip. Being a cop had been an attraction at first. Full of thrill and intrigue. Then the long shifts and lonely nights had started taking a toll. And she’d pulled away. Used every other excuse to wedge them apart, but he’d known the truth.

I’m waiting for you.

“Shut up, just shut the fuck up!”

He pushed to his feet, grabbing his pants off a nearby chair. He tripped toward the doorway, trying to tug the denim over his hips without stopping. It’d only fuel her power—give her more time to block his escape.

He stumbled into the hallway then headed for the foyer. The bedroom door slammed shut behind him, as the lights flickered on then off, a low buzz filling the air. He didn’t stop, barely registered the noise as he focused on the silver-colored knob twenty feet in front of him.

A chair scraped out from the kitchen table as he passed by, her ghostly silhouette wavering in and out of focus. He didn’t acknowledge her—knowing he’d never get out if he looked at her. Saw the wounds carved into her skin. The bruised pattern around her neck. Of all the bodies he’d faced in the line of duty, none had been that devastating—that gutting—until he’d found her…

He shook away the thoughts. He couldn’t have known. Couldn’t have anticipated that bastard would be lurking. Waiting to steal her away. Take away his last hope at even the semblance of a normal life. That their game would end as yet another statistic. A number on a case file.

You knew what he was capable of. You never should have left me alone.

Daniel bowed his head as he palmed the doorknob, her words stinging as much now as when she’d first appeared to him. The air cooled along his neck, and he knew she was standing behind him—waiting for him to weaken. To turn around.

He twisted the handle, surprised when it actually turned. He’d lost count of the times she’d trapped him there. How many times he’d been forced to relive that night—see her death through her eyes. Shit, he didn’t even know how she did it. If any of this was truly real.

Daniel.

He reefed open the door, staring out at the street. A light rain misted the air, blurring the glow of the lamplight into a wash of grays and yellows. He placed one foot beyond the threshold, willing himself out of the house door, when icy fingers cupped his shoulder.

He froze, the sheer pressure of the invisible touch holding him captive. His stomach rolled in protest, the acid taste of bile burning his throat.

He clenched his jaw, finally glancing back. The tattered remains of her short, white dress hung off her shoulders—the red patches bright against the fabric. As if she were somehow still bleeding. Her once soft hair shot out in a tangled mess from her head like a fuzzy halo of dull brown. But it was her eyes that always took his breath away. Hollow and sad, with more than a hint of bitter resentment shining in the green depths. He’d never thought she could look at him like that. As if he’d been the one to steal her life away.

He blew out a shaky breath, noting the way it misted in front of his mouth. “Isabel.”

She jerked back at her name, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it held any power. If he somehow affected her as she did him.

She recovered quickly, making the remaining chairs around the table shake. “You left me.” Her words bit at what little remained of his heart.

He shook his head, repeating the token saying that had kept him from giving in. From following her into the abyss. “Never. He took you from me.”

“You knew how dangerous he was.”

“Isabel, no—”

“You. Knew.”

Daniel could only bow his head. He’d known Jacob had harbored feelings for her. But he’d never thought the man—his best fucking friend… He raised his gaze to meet her icy stare. “I’m sorry.”

“Then prove it. Come to me. I’m waiting for you.”

“You know I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

“Both, I suppose. Someone has to make sure he pays. It’s my job—”

“Your job was to love me. Protect me. But you didn’t love me, did you? It was over. You were going to leave me. Discard me like garbage.”

Guilt soured his gut, heaving it in protest. “No. You know that’s not true. I was trying to fix things. Fix us.”

“Then why didn’t you follow sooner?” She seemed to hover closer to him, her feet not even touching the floor. “You wanted him to capture me. You wanted me gone.”

She glared at him, this time breaking the glass next to the door. Pieces shot through the air, one cutting his jaw.

He didn’t bother wiping at the blood. “No. Never.”

“Then come to me.”

He set his jaw, firming his hold on the door as he finally turned away. “I can’t.”

He launched himself onto the porch, fighting against the pull of her icy grip. Scratches rose along his neck before he managed to break free—stumble down the three stairs to the walkway. Pain flared through his limbs, a sharp ache stabbing through his heart.

He twisted slightly, staring at the house, his gaze drifting to the glass. Solid once more, it reflected the eerie light of the lamppost, the flawless surface mocking him.

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t live like this. Wondering from one day to the next if he was losing his mind. If anything was real, or if he was caught in some kind of endless loop. Groundhog day from hell.

He drew a quick breath. He needed to stop the cycle. Break free of the guilt. Rid his mind of the memories. The nightmares. Find a way to move forward—do everything he could to put the bastard behind bars.

Bastard. Jacob. He was going to find a way to ensure his best friend never hurt anyone else ever again.

The panicky sensation ebbed slightly, the feel of the cool mist calming him. He exhaled, spinning toward the street as he opened his eyes.

Isabel hovered an inch from his face, those dull eyes burning into black. “I’m done waiting.”

Daniel gasped as his body flew backwards, skidding across the foyer and into the kitchen. The front door slammed shut behind him, the light in the hall flickering again. The glass in the entryway frosted over, blocking out everything beyond the pane except the outline of a handprint as it slowly materialized amidst the white, smearing off to the right.

He scrambled to his feet, darting over to the cupboard as dishes rattled along the counter. A couple lifted up, wavering in the air before shooting across the room—shattering against the far wall. He did his best to block out the sounds—the scrape of her feet along the floor, the wheeze of her breath through her punctured chest—tossing spices and bottles over his shoulder until he found what he was looking for.

He spun, nearly dropping the box of salt as he watched her vanish, appearing several feet closer in the space of a heartbeat. Daniel tamped down the fear, opening the lid then pouring a steady line of white crystals around him—the lopsided circle flashing in and out of view as the lights cut out then popped back on. He had no idea if the token gesture would work. If what he’d witnessed on different television shows held any weight. Hell, a part of him believed he was still in his bed, imagining everything. But fuck if he had any other ideas. And just thinking about spending another night pinned to a wall—watching her die over and over…

Isabel screamed, racing toward him only to stop at the edge of the circle, her body jerking backwards as it hit the salt. She hissed, trying to break through the barrier, again, only to recoil, bits of her flesh curling into smoke. Hard, bitter eyes gazed at me as she swept her arms up, sending all the remaining dishes crashing to the floor.

She bared her teeth—a glimpse of white amidst her graying silhouette. “I knew you didn’t love me. You’ll never be free, Daniel. I’ll never let you go.”

She vanished, the misty remains of her body slowly fading. He drew in a few shaky breaths, trying to calm the staccato rhythm of his heart. In all the times she’d appeared to him, it’d never been this bad. Never his violent.

He waited until the air began to warm again, the icy glass thawing into streaks of dripping water, before gathering his courage. He glanced up the hallway. The light in his bedroom was on again, a strip of yellow shining beneath the closed door. All he had to do was make it outside, only this time, he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t look back until the house was nothing but a reflected light in the ghostly fog.

Daniel placed one foot on the outside of the circle, waiting a few moments to see if she’d suddenly materialize. An eerie silence filled the house, nothing but his forceful exhalations registering in the stillness. He gauged the distance—fifteen feet. Maybe twenty. He only needed a few seconds…

He sprinted toward the door, feet pounding the floor as he reached for the knob, gasping when icy fingers wrapped around his ankle, tripping him onto his one knee. He palmed the wood, still reaching for the handle as her nails dug into his flesh, burning lines along his leg.

He kicked at her hold, his foot passing through her torso as she tightened her grip, sending a stabbing pain up his body and into his chest. Black smudges smeared across his skin as a deep cold settled around his heart, the resulting pressure making it hard to breathe.

Isabel’s face appeared in front of him, her smug smile glaring back at him. “Mine, Daniel. Forever.”

He managed to slide forward slightly—wrap his fingers around the handle—when the damn thing turned in his hand. He glanced over his shoulder as the door flew open. A man and a woman stormed through the opening, shotguns poised at their hips. The guy fired, a blast of white power bursting from the muzzle.

Isabel screeched, recoiling in seeming pain before winking out, the pressure in his chest easing. He fell onto one elbow, coughing as he tried to catch his breath, his vision dimming at the edges. A hand cupped his face, tilting it up. He forced himself to focus, stunning green eyes staring back at him.

The woman smiled—a splash of pink amidst the gray. “You okay?”

He furrowed his brow, trying to process the words when she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Hey? Detective Cartwright? I asked if you were okay?” She swept her gaze down his body, frowning. “Hey, Jimmy. Our friend’s got lacerations on his ankle. More on his neck. Lots of bruising, too.” She brushed her fingers over the skin on his neck. “Fuck! Pretty damn sure he’s got blotches of ectoplasm on him. That’s a first. And I think he’s in shock.”

“Who the fuck are you?” He cursed inwardly at her amused smile, his voice more than strained.

She cocked her head to the side. “Okay, maybe not as shocky as I’d thought. The names Arrynn. Arrynn Baker. This is James White, but we all just call him Jimmy.”

Daniel glanced at the man in question.

The guy waved at him, giving him a wink. “Yo, Danny-boy. What’s up?”

Daniel opened his mouth, closing it when the girl—Arrynn—cupped his jaw again and turned him to face her.

“Look, I know this is probably a lot to take in right now, but… Trust me. It’s nothing compared to what you’re about to discover.”

He forced himself to swallow, nearly gagging in the process. “About to discover? You mean it’s worse than…” He waved his hand at the interior. “This?”

“Oh, sweetie, this is nothing. You should see what vampires and werewolves do to a kitchen.”

“Vampires?” He shook his head. “Fuck. I’ve gone mad. This is all a dream and I’m probably in some kind of fucking facility, drooling all over myself while a bunch of male nurses feed me colored pills!”

Arrynn chuckled. “Actually, that’s probably the most sane thing you’ll say for a while. Too bad it’s not true. What happened here…” She mimicked his wave. “All real, sweetie. And it’s just the beginning. But something tells me, you’re up for the job.”

“Job? What job? What the fuck are you talking about? How the hell did you even know to come here?”

“We’ve been watching you for a while. Seems your partner was…concerned. You’ve been acting a bit odd. A few of the things you said around him…” She shrugged. “Made him wonder if there was something else going on. Something…paranormal.”

“Paranormal?” He snorted. “Fuck.”

“Hey, be thankful. If he hadn’t called it in, we never would have been watching from across the street.” She whistled. “Haven’t witnessed a spirit toss a guy like that in a long ass time. And when you didn’t come out…”

“This is crazy. It can’t be real.” He leaned against the door. “What do you want from me?”

She winked, slowly straightening. “It’s more what you want from us. I’m talking about a whole new reality for you, Daniel. One that starts with you taking my hand, and us getting the hell out of here.”

She extended her arm, beckoning to him with her fingers. He swung his gaze back to the kitchen, staring at the shards of glass and porcelain before releasing a slow breath. He looked up at her, clasping his hand around her forearm as she helped lever him to his feet.

An easy smile lifted her lips as she motioned to the open door. “Smart choice. After you.”

He rolled his shoulders, limping the few steps it took to reach the porch. An echo of Isabel’s voice sounded inside his head, the pleading words barely recognizable.

You’re mine. Forever.

He took one more step, ignoring the mournful rasp of his name as he turned to Arrynn. “Where are we going?”

“Home. Your new home.” She extended her hand again, this time shaking his. “Welcome to Threshold. This is where things get interesting.”

It’s random Wednesday and time for another writing post. This week’s topic is —Why I Write. I guess I can tell you why, lol… it’s just, I’m not sure I have more than the generic standby answer that everyone will probably list. Though, in the end, it’s the truth, so…

I’ll start by saying I didn’t always dream of being a writer. I dabbled a bit in high school… have some fond memories of writing a few stories for English class, but… it wasn’t what I was planning on for the future. And I went on to have a … um … few other careers. But that’s another story.

What I’ve discovered is that, at the end of the day, writing is undoubtedly my passion. A true love. Which is, the main reason I write. It brings me joy. Unmeasurable joy.

I realized that part of the reason I didn’t stay with other jobs was because once I’d conquered the challenge of obtaining them, the love affaire died. It became just another thing I did. And I always wanted the next adventure. But with writing, it is the next adventure. I can still be a pilot, a dispatcher, a boat captain. But I can also be a doctor, a paramedic, a spy or … a writer. I get to research and, in essence, be all of these amazing careers through my characters.

Yeah, I know I’m not really a doctor, or a spy, but… that’s not the point. It’s getting to see a story through the eyes of different characters that’s the allure. Being able to put my other loves…mountaineering, rock climbing, adventure racing…to good use. Knowing I’ll be able to keep learning, keep growing without ever outgrowing my passion.

I know, that all sounds a bit… corny. But… it’s true. However, writing isn’t all sunshine and puppies. So I’ve put together a little collection of what it’s like on this side of the paper…

It starts like this… all the good intentions in the world.

Then this…

But it’s okay. You’re merely processing (that’s PROcessing). Then this…

Which quickly downgrades into this…

And then… this…

and finally…

FORTUNATELY… it cycles back to the top, and on good days, you get to stay there for a bit. Writing all the things.

So, not sure I answered the blog topic, but… this is what you get. Now skip on over to the other ladies and see what they have to say.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica De La Rosa  |  Paige Prince

 Kellie St. James  |  Gwendolyn Cease

 

It’s Wednesday and time for a new topic. Every so often we will be doing a post called NOSTALGIC NOTES, each one themed at something different. This month it’s looking at SONGS. And who doesn’t have those special songs to mark memories? Some good, some crappy, but I know for me, songs stick in my head.

Now, I could honestly list like a thousand freaking songs. I’m very much the music person and I tend to put songs to a lot of my memories. Even if it’s just in my head. But I’ll try to keep this to select events. I said try, people.

Okay, in no particular order, because I’m sure I’ll pop back and forth along the timeline.

No Reply At All, by Genesis.

And pretty much a lot of Genesis’ work. It was really the first band I started listening to, beyond what my parents had. And… it was because the ‘cute’ boy at school loved the band. I, obviously wanted to relate, so started listening to them. I’m proud to say I fell in love with the band for all the right reasons, and didn’t give a flying fuck about said cute boy.

Paradise By The Dashboard Lights, by Meatloaf

I honestly don’t think any explanation is needed for this song. It’s about sex. And I was young.

Hotel California, by The Eagles.

With the passing of Glenn Fry, it needs to be noted that this song started my love affair of the Eagles and pretty much Don Henley and Glenn Fry. I was away from home for the first time at a Horse camp. And this song played everyday. I remember listening to it to help not be homesick.

Stairway to Heaven, by Led Zeppelin

God, they played this freaking song at EVERY school dance. And you were either thrilled or horrified depending on who asked you to dance because… it lasts forever. And ever. And ever.

I Want a New Drug, by Huey Lewis

Huey Lewis was the first band I saw in concert, with, arguably my first, real boyfriend. So…

Just The Way You Are, by Billy Joel

While my marriage didn’t last, my love of all things Billy has. And this was the song on that day. I still love this song…and I guess the memory is bitter-sweet.

Isn’t She Lovely, by Stevie Wonder

The birth song. Period. I still love this one.

Rockstar, by Nickelback,

You knew they’d be in here. And this was the song that started my love of this band. Still love pretty much everything they do. I know… you won’t shatter my devotion, no matter how much you trash them or tease me.

Thinking Out Loud, by Ed Sheeran,

This was Sydney’s song choice to one of her very first solo aerial routines. Okay, the first was Sail, but, this one was special. It made me love Ed Sheeran, but it’s what started her down this path…one she might just take all the way. Now, I have a link to her routine, but in preview mode it was horribly slow. It’s too long to upload directly so… you might be able to click and let it load, lol.

Syd’s Aerial Routine

Take the Money and Run, by the Steve Miller Band

Amazing trip through Alberta and BC before I moved out west. Iconic, really.

Horse With No Name, by America

This was Kyle’s ‘lullaby’ when he was wee.

Carry On Wayward Son, by Kansas

This is Kyle’s song, now. For so many reasons.

Part of Your World, by Jodi Benson from The Little Mermaid

This was Syd’s go to lullaby, along with Return to Pooh Corner, by Kenny Loggins. I can honestly say I began to hate that damn mermaid.

I See Fire, by Ed Sheehan,

This one is Syd’s song now. And yes, my kids have a song, lol.

Sweet Baby James, by James Taylor,

This was Jared’s song. And I sang this mother every damn night for forever. I’m sure James Taylor died a bit each time I did.

Jared doesn’t have a song now, but he has the ‘fuck’ skit from South Park.. again, for so very many reasons. So many, many reasons. You can watch it below if you like…warning… the word ‘fuck’ might come up. A few times.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGLglMOdjak

Finally, Tennessee Line, by Daughtry.

Not sure why, but this is my mom’s song. I played it over and over during her last few days. Thinking she must be somewhere still singing it. Miss you tons…

And I’ll stop there. There are tons more songs that mean stuff to me. That I love. But… this post has to stop somewhere. Now head over to the other ladies and see what’s playing.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica De La Rosa  |  Kellie St. James  |  Paige Prince

It’s inspired by a melody time again, folks. This month’s pick is TRY, by the BACKSTREET BOYS. No surprise here who picked the song 🙂 It’s one I haven’t heard before by them, but they’ve always had a pretty good sound, so…

Here’s the link video if you’d like to give it a listen. Otherwise, let’s do this…

https://youtu.be/kQsP9mVaK9g

“Damnit, Kate, I know you’re in there.”  Kurt Baxter banged on the door. Again. “Either open the damn door, or I’ll just kick it in.”

He waited, heat burning beneath his skin as he listened to the silence beyond the closed slab of wood. He’d give her one more minute before he broke the fucking thing down. Muffled footsteps sounded from within the apartment before the lock tumbled over with a resounding click. More footsteps padded away from the door, then nothing.

Kurt reached for the handle, sighing when it twisted within his grasp. He pushed open the door, getting his first look at Kate’s apartment. Modest furniture with a few black and white photos gracing the walls—it was refreshingly comfortable. Not quite the sterile environment he’d anticipated. Not after all he’d learned about the detective. How she’d been orphaned young. Spent the majority of her childhood in foster care before signing up with the Navy. She’d done a few tours in the NCIS then jumped ship—literally— finding her way onto the Seattle police department. She’d made detective within her first year and hadn’t slowed down since. Anything he’d heard about her painted a very professional picture. Honourable. Determined. Detached.

He grinned inwardly. He had a feeling the good detective wasn’t quite as detached as she’d led most people to believe. Which was why she’d holed herself up in her damn apartment for the past two days. God forbid anyone realize she had a heart. That she felt anything.

A voice in his head laughed at him. As if he was anyone to judge. He’d buried any semblance of his humanity the day his father had been killed by the very monster Kurt believed was behind the recent string of murders. And he hadn’t looked back, since. Hadn’t bothered with anything more than quick hook-ups and even quicker goodbyes. Then he’d stumbled upon Detective Kate Stevens six months ago during a joint investigation, and he’d been annoying preoccupied by her ever since. Hell, he’d worked hard to find ways to bump into her under official pretence. Any excuse to spend a hour or a day with her, even if it was going through some evidence just to conclude their cases weren’t linked.

Of course, he’d known that before he’d ever approached her, but damn, there was just something about her. A pull he couldn’t quite explain. One that was slowly driving him crazy—his presence at her apartment case and point. He didn’t make a habit out of checking up on colleagues. If they needed some time to deal with a particular situation, he’d always been happy to give that person some space. He wasn’t a shoulder to cry on, and he sure as shit wasn’t the kind to cuddle on the couch, proclaiming things would be all right.

Things were seldom all right unless taken by the nuts and forced into submission. Not to mention the fact, monsters were real. And the dark was something to be very afraid of.

He kicked off his boots, making his way into the main room. Kate had sequestered herself onto the end of the couch, whiskey bottle half empty on the coffee table, a fresh drink sitting in front of her while an empty glass sat next to hers. She didn’t speak, merely pouring another drink before shoving it towards him.

He walked over to her, lifting her legs off the cushions as he sat next to her. Her breath hitched at the seemingly innocent contact, her muscles stiffening until he placed her legs over his thighs, absently giving one calf a squeeze before taking the drink. He offered a mock toast then downed the brown liquid in a single gulp. Soothing heat burned down his throat and into his gut, finally settling it. He grabbed the bottle and poured himself another, topping hers off. A tentative smile tugged at his lips as he gazed over at her.

He motioned to the liquor. “And here I thought you’d be in the corner, drowning yourself in self blame.”

She glanced at the far end of the room, shrugging. “The floor’s harder than shit. I prefer to self loathe in comfort, if it’s all the same to you.”

He sighed, taking a swig of his shot. “That’s kind of the point. Dave’s death wasn’t your fault.”

Kate’s chin quivered for a moment before she visibly steeled herself. “The hell wasn’t.”

“Kate—”

“Dave was at that damn warehouse because of me. Because I’d asked him to do me a favour.” She looked pointedly at him, chin quivering again. “Because I was too assed to go over and meet him. I never should have left him alone.”

“He was a trained officer.”

“But he wasn’t a match for…” She waved her hand in the air. “This. Whatever this fucking thing is.”

Kurt drew in a deep breath, trying to gauge his best line of reasoning. Though he suspected she wasn’t looking for excuses. For a way out. What she needed was to put all that energy into something else. Something raw. Primitive.

HIs dick pulsed at the thought, and he silently willed the damn thing to back off. First, he needed to get her to understand nothing could have saved her friend. Then…

He reached for her, lifting her chin with a single finger. “As I recall, you were investigating another lead with me when Dave called you. Even you can’t be two places at once. And for the record…if I’d thought for one moment he’d be at risk, I would have dragged both our asses over there. Everything pointed to our location, not his. I should have been the creature’s next target. I fit the profile, not Dave.” He released a weary breath. “Which means, I screwed up. I missed something. If you need to blame someone, I’ve got shoulders to spare.”

She sighed, placing her drink on the table as she curled her legs beneath her. “I don’t blame you, Kurt. Dave was my responsibility. I sent him in blind. If I’d given him more information—what to expect—”

“Right!” Kurt laughed, but not because the situation was funny. “Because folks are so eager to believe that Supernatural creatures are running amok. I mean, it only took, what…having that thing damn near kill both of us for you to jump on board. I’m sure Dave would have embraced the knowledge with nothing more than your assurances.”

She glared at him.

He shook his head. “Sorry. The last thing you need is me acting like a petulant ass. It’s just…we still don’t know what we’re up against. This…thing…it’s behaving differently. Dave’s the first victim without one of those crazy notes. It attacked him in the middle of the damn day at a location that’s way outside what I suspect is its home range. None of it makes sense.”

Kate leaned toward him, taking his hand in hers. “We’ll figure it out. Keep trying until we nail its ass.”

He nodded, lifting her hand to his mouth before dropping a kiss on the back. “That’s my girl.” He motioned to the whiskey. “Another?”

She glanced at the bottle, her expression falling. “It’s not helping.”

“Did you really think you could drown the pain?”

She snorted. “My ex didn’t seem to have any problems drinking anything and anyone out of his head.”

“That’s because he was a douche. I have to say, for a woman of your intelligence, your taste in men…”

She snorted. “So, the fact I’m attracted to you, means… Shit.” She covered her mouth, stumbling to her feet, trying to break his hold when he grabbed her to stop her from falling on her face. “I…forget I said that. It’s the whiskey talking.”

He smiled, holding her still as he closed the distance. “Oh, my dear Kate. Alcohol can be blamed for a number of ill-conceived ideas, but it doesn’t make people lie. Quite the contrary. Though that does present a problem.”

She seemed to swallow with effort. “What’s that?”

“Where do we go from here, because sweetheart, I’m having a very hard time coming up with a single reason why I shouldn’t pick you up and take you to bed.”

 

And that’s it for me. Now that I’ve written it, I’m not sure about it fitting in with the song, but…it’s what popped in my head, folks. So… that’s that. Now go check out the other ladies. They might have even made it relevant to the song;)

Bronwyn Green  |  Kellie St. James  |  Jessica De La Rosa

 

And that’s all for me folks. Now go check out the other ladies and see what they created.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  | Kellie St. James

 Jessica De La Rosa  |  Paige Prince

Okay, so the actual post is really, MY IDEAL DATE. But let’s face it folks, it seems as if that’s what I’d have to do to have an ideal date. Hell, any date. Because dating when you’re over thirty (okay, okay, possibly forty. Screw off, this is my post) is hard. Why, you ask? And no, I don’t care if you didn’t. Here’s the thing…meeting people is hard. All those old standbys? Gone. And why is it your friends never seem to know any ‘single’ people. Like, not one?  As in none? Not a single, freaking guy who might may your lady parts go all aquiver. Naturally, one turns to Internet dating… only, you get this.

Expectations…

Reality…

And in the end, this is me…

What was this post about again?

Right, my ideal date. Wow, kind of got a bit off track. Okay… IDEAL MOTHER-FUCKING DATE. I GOT THIS.

Now, this may be shocking to some, but my ideal date doesn’t involve dinner in a fancy restaurant or dressing up. Hell, it doesn’t even involve civilization. In fact, quite the opposite.

Note… let’s assume this is the perfect date with a guy I’m crazy about. You know, as if I HAD a guy:)

The day would start with a drive to somewhere remote. This would probably require the aid of four-wheel drive and good navigation skills. When the poor excuse for a dirt road becomes impassable, we’d ditch the Jeep and head out on foot. Armed with backpacks and cameras, we’d spend the better part of the day hiking up ( as in lots of elevation gain )  to a remote cabin up in the mountains.

And yes, cabin. This is my IDEAL date. In this scenario, I get a reprieve from a tent.

We’d of course, stop along the way—take pictures of the view. Eat dried fruit and granola. Selfies to prove we were still alive which we’d text to a member of the family, though the kids would probably be having some kind of keg party, so they wouldn’t really care, nor would they even hear their phones chime.

The entire hike would be filled with easy conversation, non-awkward silences (again, IDEAL), and we’d get brief chances to hold hands, kiss. I’d admire his map-reading skills and he’d admire my ass. Oops, sorry, Freudian slip there. He’d admire my enthusiasm. Right. Enthusiasm. We’d reach the cabin before sunset, but take the time to watch the sky bleed into yellows and reds from a comfortable swing on the porch. (Yes, this cabin could exist. Don’t crush my dreams, folks.)

We’d start a fire in the wood stove and he’d cook me dinner. Okay, he’d probably just heat something up from a freezer bag. Or we’d eat chocolate and sandwiches. I’m actually not picky. Hell, if things went well, we could skip dinner…wink wink.

There’d be candles and crickets and wolves howling in the background. Slow dancing and this…

lots of this…

And, well, sleeping. Some. Sleeping. Okay, not much, but… sigh.

Of course, the next day would be awesome because we’d hike back, get to share a shower… yeah, this.

Wondering what the other ladies consider their ideal date? Go check them out…

Bronwyn Green  |  Gwendolyn Cease  |  Jessica De La Rosa  |  Paige Prince

 

It’s picture flash fiction time again, and I love this image. Not that it makes writing a piece easier, but it’s just a cool photo. I’m wondering how many ladies will have this end…poorly, lol. Because yeah, he looks as if he could just jump right off.

For me, after looking at this, I decided to continue a previous one…after all, those boys were from Atlantis and this kind of screams that sort of story to me. If you’d like to read the first bit, you can go to Atlantis part one… other wise, just jump right in.

 He’d failed. Again.

Declan O’Toole stood at the edge of the rickety dock, watching Zeke—fuck, his best friend and true soul—amble out towards the end. Despite the beautiful image his lover made—the dark blue of his hoodie making his wiry silhouette stand out in harsh relief against the pale tones of the endless horizon—Declan couldn’t fully appreciate the scene. Not when he felt the pain in Zeke’s heart as the man stopped at the edge, staring at the endless expanse of water. God how long had it been since they’d truly felt at peace? Since they’d woken to more than another day filled with searching…but never finding.

“Stop. This isn’t your fault, Dec. We both know that.”

Declan shook the thoughts from his head as he looked up at Zeke, the man’s voice seemingly hanging in the heavy air around them. Their gazes clashed as his lover glanced over his shoulder, the blue in his eyes so damn brilliant, it stole Declan’s breath. God, the man was stunning.

Guardian. Zeke wasn’t just a man or an heir to Atlantis, but the damn guardian of the entire realm. A fact Declan had managed to shove aside until they’d unearthed the lost tomes and sparked their first real chance at ever returning home.

Zeke sighed, turning back toward the water. “I’m no different than I was yesterday, or last week. Hell, last year. Nothing’s changed.” He tapped his head. “Still the same guy.”

“Right. The same guy.” Declan walked out onto the dock, his heart kicking up at the familiar sound of the water lapping at the old wood. God, he missed feeling part of the sea.

He stopped beside Zeke, nudging his shoulder. “Except for the part where we found the maps and finally have a real possibility of returning to Atlantis. Of you breaking the protection barrier the previous guardian erected in order to prevent the entire kingdom from falling prey to Xander and his army of demons. All of which won’t happen unless I can decipher the bloody notations on those godforsaken scrolls and actually find the portal back.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Zeke’s lips. “As I recall, you’ve found more than a few portals.”

Declan slapped Zeke’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

The smile flourished, accentuating the slight dimples in Zeke’s cheeks. “Hey, who knew that most of the portals simply lead to another location within the human world. I was as surprised as you were.”

“You’re a fucking terrible liar, you know that?”

“What?”

“You knew.” Declan held up his hand. “But I appreciate the element of surprise you injected into your voice when we walked out of that last one to find ourselves beside the very spot we’d entered. That was a nice touch.”

Zeke’s grin faded. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who should be able to decipher those markings on the maps. What good is being the next guardian if I can’t even read my native tongue.”

“Zeke—”

“I mean it, Dec.” Zeke took a few heavy steps away before spinning, raking his hands through his hair and spiking it up in every direction. “Let’s say for a moment that we find this elusive portal and actually reach Atlantis. Then what? I can barely string a couple of phrases together let alone counter a spell a master warlock concocted over a century ago.” He clenched his jaw, glancing back at the water. “I’m no guardian. I’m nothing more than a damn joke.”

Declan closed the distance. He smoothed his palms along Zeke’s ribs, stopping with them pressed against the other man’s chest. Zeke’s heart thrummed beneath Declan’s fingers, the increased rhythm activating his protective instincts. He tugged the man against him, resting his forehead on Zeke’s, drinking in the spicy scent clinging to Zeke’s skin, wanting nothing more than to heal the wounds he sensed in his lover’s soul.

Zeke closed his eyes, his breath mixing with Declan’s as Zeke’s heart rate finally slowed. His chest pressed into Declan’s with each ragged inhalation. Declan held firm, waiting until Zeke pushed against his hold before easing back. His lover shook his head, leaning in for a fleeting kiss before slowly backing away.

Declan sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to shake some sense into Zeke.

“You? Resort to violence?” Zeke winked at him. “So unbecoming a future spiritual leader.”

“Stop reading my damn mind, you jerk.” Declan scrubbed his hand down his face. “And who said anything about me becoming a spiritual leader? You’re the one with the predetermined destiny, remember?”

“So that mark on your shoulder…”

Declan huffed out his next breath. “Is just that. A mark.”

“Or…it’s the ancient symbol all healers are born with. One that will flourish if we ever return to Atlantis.”

“When we return. And it’s just a mark. You, on the other hand.” He cocked his head to the side when Zeke rolled his eyes. “Dude. Seriously. Cut yourself some slack. Part of that damn ritual was us losing the majority of our memories. It’s taken us this long just to piece together who we are and why we aren’t like all those human mulling around us. You can’t expect yourself to simply pick up where you left off. We’d just started our schooling when Xander attacked the kingdom and your predecessor sacrificed his energy to seal Atlantis away.”

“By sacrifice you mean he banished us…here. Without a clue of who we were or what we needed to do.”

“He was trying to save our world. But he knew you’d never be able to break the spell if you were trapped inside. Hell of a choice to make, if you ask me.”

“Then why erase our memories?” Zeke kicked at the damn wood beneath his feet. “Why risk that we wouldn’t ever find our way back?”

“Like I know. Shit, Zeke, I’m as much in the dark as you are.” He tapped his head. “Damn thing got all Matrixed along with yours. Christ, at least you were able to break that spell in the cabin and get the books. All I’ve done is lead us on one missed adventure after another. It’s just a damn doorway. You’d think I’d be able to find it.”

Zeke’s expression softened and he eased over, taking Declan’s hand in his. “If it were easy to find, anyone would waltz on through. It’s hidden, and hidden well for a reason.”

“Yeah, to keep losers out. Which I’m feeling very much of right now.” He shoved Zeke when the man leaned into him. “I don’t want your damn pity. I want to be able to read those fucking notations and just unearth the damn portal.”

Zeke held up his hands as if the motion would soothe Declan. “How ’bout this? We’ll go for swim, get some food. Maybe release that tension turning you into a freaking drama queen, then sit down and figure this out. For real.”

“Like I’m the only drama queen, and you’ve turned down my last few advances. Started to think you’d become some born-again virgin.”

“Just distracted. And tired. But, I realize shutting you out was the worst thing I could have done. We both think better when we’re…sated.”

“God, you make it sound as if you’re going to pity fuck me.”

Zeke laughed. “Fuck you, yes. But I believe the term you’re searching for is love. Because I do. Love you.” He cracked a smile. “Unless, of course, that mark turns into some god-awful tattoo once we get back to Atlantis. Might have to dump you if that happens.”

“We’ve already bound, jackass. So you’re stuck with me.”

Zeke smiled. “I like that sound of that.” He reached for the neck of his hoodie, yanking it off then tossing it on the dock. “First one in gets to choose how this night ends, so…I’d get stripping if I were you.”

“And you’re cheating, as usual.” Declan kicked off his shoes. He already knew how the night was going to end. He just hoped it isn’t their last.

That’s it for me. Please check out the other lovely ladies and see what they dreamt up.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  |  Gwendolyn Cease  |  Paige Prince

I love wordless Wednesdays, except I never seem to have any images uploaded, lol. Anyway, this month’s topic is happiness. I’m sure I’ve used many of these images before, but… I don’t think it’s any surprise what makes me happy. So, here goes…

(Didn’t really know how to represent writing, cover art wordlessly and without uploading EVERYTHING. So the above kinda says it all.)

That’s it for me, folks. Go visit the other ladies and their wordless ideas of happiness. Thinking mine might be a tad different, lol. Only because you poor souls don’t have Tim Hortons 🙂

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica De La Rosa

Kellie St. James  |  Paige Prince  |  Gwendolyn Cease

 

And already, we’re in the middle of January, which means time for the first song flash fiction of 2016. I swear I’ve entered some kind of time portal, which is sucking the time away faster, but… Anyway, this month the song is Creep, by Radiohead. It’s a really cool song musically—a bit depressing lyrically, but all good I suppose. If you’d like to give it a listen, here’s the youtube video, otherwise, let’s begin…

 

“For the love of God, Kent, can we please listen to something else?”

Kent Foster glanced at Seth, arching his brow as his buddy reached for the radio, flicking through a dozen stations. “You got a problem with my choice of music? I thought you liked Radiohead?”

“It’s not the band, jerk, it’s the song. First, it’s freaking Coldplay with Fix You, then Great Big World with inarguably the saddest fucking song ever written and now Creep. Dude, don’t you think we’ve had enough of the depressing shit?”

Kent shrugged. “I just like the way it rises and falls. Didn’t stop to analyze it.”

“Since when? You overanalyze everything. Besides, it’s the damn title. I don’t care how good the band is that song title is just…”

“Creepy?”

Seth rolled his eyes, glaring at him. “Seriously? You’re fucking hysterical, Kent.”

Kent grinned. “It’s just a song, Seth. Lighten up.”

“We just spent two weeks tracking then killing a rogue shifter. Month before that unearthing a vampire nest. I can’t remember the last time we had a day off. Hell, a normal day.”

“Normal’s overrated.”

“Normal would be nice for a change.” Seth motioned to the radio. “So sue me if I’d rather listen to something that doesn’t remind me of everything we’ve lost. Been forced to leave behind. How every damn failure only serves to strengthen the notion that maybe we really aren’t good enough.”

Kent glanced at his friend. “Are you okay? Someone ruffie your coke or something?”

“Don’t sit there and tell me you don’t think about shit like this. I know you do. I hear you mumbling to yourself when you think I’m asleep. You’re just as messed up as I am. Maybe more so.”

“Sorry, bro, but you’re mistaking me with someone who has any fucks to give.”

“Cut the crap, Kent. You give all the fucks.”

Kent snorted. “Fine. I care about helping people. Stopping creatures that develop a taste for blood. But not when it comes to self-analyzing. I don’t need to measure up to anyone else’s idea of worth. I do my job, release a bit of steam when I can…pretty simple if you ask me. And if others don’t like it, that’s their problem.”

“You are so full of it. But, by all means, keep pretending if it helps you sleep at night.”

Kent winked at him. “Only sleep during the day. You know that.”

Seth groaned as his phone blared above the music. “Great. That’s probably another damn case.”

“No rest for the wicked, and all that.” Kent nodded at him. “Can you get that before I have to listen to that rendition of Hallelujah again, please? It’s not even the good one.”

“It’s Bon Jovi. You really are musically challenged, you know that?” He swiped his finger across the surface. “Mulder. If you want Scully you’ll have to ring him.”

“You’re such an ass.” He focused on the road, listening to Seth’s side of the conversation. Great, it sounded as if the guy was arranging for some kind of sexual hook up with a fellow hunter. Which meant another dive motel Kent would have to spend the night in while Seth got to sleep with some hottie he’d met on one of their previous cases.

“Sure, baby. I’ll meet you there, say, midnight? Perfect. Room one oh nine. Got it.”

Kent glared at Seth. “She’s probably a newly turned werewolf.”

Seth shrugged. “Moon’s no longer full. As long as she keep wearing skin, I’m cool. Besides, she’s hotter than the damn sun.”

“Maybe you can get matching tags for your collars.”

“Just shut up and drive.”

Kent bit back his retort. He hated to admit it, but Seth deserved a night off. Hell, a year of one-night stands wouldn’t come close to what either of them truly needed. He just didn’t want to admit he was jealous. Or maybe just lonely. Or that Seth had hit too close to home when he’d turned off the damn Radiohead song. That maybe, Kent was the creep. The one who didn’t measure up. Who wasn’t special enough to ever find even a hint of happiness. That his phone rarely rang with anything other than a description of bloody corpses or lost children.

He glanced at Seth. Lucky bastard. He just hoped the unsettling feeling in his gut was the jealousy talking and not some weird kind of premonition. That Seth wasn’t, actually, walking into some kind of trap. Kent shook off the thoughts. Just his imagination kicking in. Just because most doors hid creatures that wanted to eat them didn’t mean a few didn’t lead to paradise. Even if it was a room stuck in the seventies and the euphoria only lasted a few hours.

 

And that’s it for me. Sorry, but I’m nursing some silly complications from a concussion I got snowboarding, and honestly, I’m finding it so damn hard to concentrate. let alone write. Who knew the screen was so bright 😉 Please check out the other ladies and see what they came up with.

Bronwyn Green |  Jessica Jarman  |  Jessica De La Rosa  |  Paige Prince