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Posts tagged ‘Fiction Friday’

Fiction Friday: “Too Cold”

It was too cold to be running for my life. I never should have come up here. Why had I paid any attention to that postcard. It had creeped me out the first time I read it. I should have just ripped it up and tossed it in the trash.

Or shown it to Aidan. Maybe he would have known what to do about it. I’d tried to protect him, and look where it had gotten me.

Huddled in this little cave, if you could even call it that, listening to that man crash around up above me. A shiver  shook me, and I wrapped my arms tighter around my knees, trying to hold onto any heat I could.

I didn’t even know where I would go if I tried to run. I knew this area really well, Aidan and I were always hiking the various trails. But, I’d never seen this cave before. Not until I’d fallen over that edge.

Maybe he thought I was dead. I just had to wait for him to leave. Then, I could climb back up and go home to Aidan. Right now, that was really all I wanted.

“You’d better be dead,” came the shout from above me. “He needs to suffer for what he’s done.”

My teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. Now I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the dread that swept over me. I still didn’t understand his beef with Aidan, a man who had never hurt anyone. I hadn’t been able to convince that man of that before he gave me that final shove.

“If I see you anywhere near him again, I’ll kill the both of you.” The snapping of branches then, “You have to be dead.”

I shook so hard I thought the ground was breaking apart under me. I couldn’t go home. I might not know where I could run, but I would never put Aidan in that kind of danger. I had to figure something out.

I just wished I could go home.


I’ve written a few pieces about Ian(the 1st person narrator here) and Aidan. Planning on gathering them all together and include them in a collection of my short stories. This may be part of it.


Fiction Friday: “Swan Back In”

“What makes you think you can swan back into our lives and tell us what to do?”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” Bobby said.

“It sure sounds like it,” John said, his arms crossed in front of him.

Bobby leaned back against the couch. John looked so much like Linda, but he acted just like Bobby used to. And Bobby knew he’d had a hand in the anger that rode in every line of the boy’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’ve said it several times already, and it doesn’t make anything better. But, I am sorry. I screwed up, and I paid for it. You and Adam shouldn’t have, though.”

“You were out for more than a year before Mom died. Why didn’t you ever come to see us?” There was a hard bite to the boy’s voice, but his lip was trembling.

Damn it. That was a question he never wanted to have to answer. But, he didn’t want to lie. it was never something he enjoyed doing, and especially not to his oldest son. “I signed away my rights when I went to prison. I wanted your mom and both of you boys to have a chance at a better life. And when I got out, I promised her I wouldn’t drag you down.” He saw shocked pain on John’s face now and swore to himself. “Do not blame your mother,” he said. “It was the right thing when she didn’t know if I was going to stay on the right side of the law.”

“But, you have?”

He wished John didn’t have to ask him that, but he couldn’t really blame the boy, either. “Yes,” he answered truthfully. “I have.”

John nodded after a moment. “Good. I’ll see if Adam wants to see you. It’s up to him, though. I won’t make him do anything he doesn’t want.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of him, either.” But, he was glad he was getting a chance of at least being a part of his sons’ lives again. Now, as long as he didn’t screw it up again.


If you’ve read Flames of Redemption, you may recognize these characters. And at least one of them may make a reappearance in the series.


Fiction Friday: “Serious Conversation”

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!” Maddix said, gripping his head with one hand.

“And I’m trying to subtly avoid you,” Arcelia said, picking her camera up again.

He stared at her then burst out laughing. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

She grinned behind the camera then it was flashing right in his face. “Yep,” she answered. “Trust me, I have two brothers to tell me that all the time. You’re not needed.”

The comment was flippant, as most of hers toward him were. But, it dug deep. Yeah, he was really starting to feel that way.


Awww, poor Maddix. He’ll figure out his feelings toward Arcelia…eventually. And, no, they won’t end up together. She doesn’t have those feelings.



Fiction Friday: “So Fired”

“All I’m saying, is that if you blow up the house, you’re going to be so fired.”

Maddix glanced over at the girl standing in the doorway. Maribel. And not really a girl. She was just as much an adult as he was. Still, he’d avoided her as much as he could since the first day he’d come to her father’s office for work. It wasn’t easy when the office was at their house.

“I’m not going to blow the house up,” he said, trying to hold onto his scowl. That was damn near impossible when he saw the way her eyes were twinkling. She was laughing at him.

That shouldn’t make him want her more. He turned back to the counter, studying the machine in front of him.

“It’s not that hard,” she said, coming up behind him. “And it’s not a bomb. If you hit the wrong button, it’s not going to explode.”

“Then, why did you think I’d blow up the house?”

That laugh left her eyes and flowed right through her. And into him. Her arm brushed his, and he thought he would explode, bomb or not.

“You were concentrating so hard,” she told him, “I thought your head might burst. Who knows what might go with it.”

Then, he couldn’t help but laugh, too. Until she brushed against him again. Why did she have to keep doing that? Didn’t she realize what it did to him? Judging by the glint in her eyes, she did. But, all she did was press one of the buttons on the machine. “If you’re making coffee for Dad, that’s the one you want.”

Then, she turned and walked back out of the kitchen. He barely mumbled a thanks before she was gone again. Maybe he should turn in his resignation, and save his sanity, before her father really did fire him.


Yeah, Maddix, that’s so not going to happen. I wouldn’t make it that easy on you. I will be getting around to writing Mad and Mari’s story eventually. I have a few more to go before that, though.



Fiction Friday: Navigate

“No, no, you do NOT want me navigating. I’ll accidently navigate us off a cliff.”

He laughed. Like he thought I was actually joking. “I’m serious,” I told him as I turned the map in my hands again. “I cannot read these things. I don’t have a clue which way we’re supposed to go.”

“Relax,” he said, glancing over at me after taking the next turn in the road. “What does it matter if we get lost?”

“Um, we’ll be LOST. Isn’t that the whole point of having a map. So we don’t get lost where no one can find us, and we DIE.” Yes, I was being dramatic. No, I didn’t care.

He pulled over to the side of the road then leaned over to kiss me. “We’re not going to die,” he said. “And we’ll be together. So what else could matter?”

What had I been worried about again? Damn, but he always knew how to make me forget what I was freaking out about.

What else could matter, indeed.


Welcome back to my Fiction Friday installments. I kind of took January off from it, though not really. I was still posting little fiction snippets, but I was using prompts from the Just Jot It challenge and often forgot to label Fridays as a Fiction Friday post. Now, I’m back to using prompts I’ve found on Pinterest. I used this week’s as the first line, which always makes me laugh, because it’s something I could say about myself. Please never give me a map if you actually want to get somewhere. 😀


Fiction Friday: Christmas in Triplicate

I wrote up this story over the last week, using a prompt from one of the patreon pages I subscribe to. There were three words to use somehow in the story. Jeremiah, Silas, and Corrin seemed to think it fit them perfectly, so I started writing them. Three words, three characters, and three scenes. I put it up on my Patreon page yesterday. I’m going to share the beginning of it here, but you can read the rest if you subscribe for as little as $1 a month.


Jeremiah ran a finger over the round ‘E’ key and glanced back over his shoulder. The shopkeeper had barely taken his eyes off him since he’d stepped in here. He brushed off whatever the man’s opinion of him might be and turned back to the item in front of him.

This was not something Corrin put on her list to him and Silas. No, that consisted of mostly books. Notebooks, too. She wasn’t even the reason he’d stopped in her. He’d seen an antique model fire truck in the shop window he was sure his grandfather would like. This vintage typewriter had caught his attention when he stepped inside.

Corrin was the only one he still had to buy for. His grandfather never expected anything, but Jeremiah still tried to pick something up for him if it caught his eye. It had been Corrin who had been nearly impossible to buy for this year. Even harder than his niece, and she couldn’t even tell him what she wanted yet.

He smiled as he thought of little Doreen, just over a year old and already giving his sister and brother-in-law a run for their money.

It was great.

He slid his finger over to the ‘R’ key and down to the ‘F’ but resisted the urge to press down on any of them; he didn’t need to get an even dirtier look from the shopkeeper. Yes, she would like this. It wasn’t their first Christmas together—last year they’d all agreed to get stuff they needed for the new house—but he wanted to make it the best one. For both of the people he loved.

With a sigh, he headed up to the counter. His steps felt heavy. He should have gone home and gotten some sleep, but he was nearly out of time. He figured he’d stop in on his way there. The exhaustion weighed down on him now.

“What can I help you with, young man?” The shopkeeper’s voice sounded tight and a bit disdainful. Jeremiah wondered if it would change the old man’s opinion of him to know he’d just come off a twenty-four hour shift at the fire station.

It didn’t matter. Jeremiah forced some cheerfulness into his voice. “I wondered about the old typewriter over there. How much do you want for it?”

The man made a sound almost like he had a hairball caught in his throat. His sister had given them a kitten over the summer—a stray she’d taken in had kittens and her husband insisted they couldn’t keep all of them—and it made that same noise.



Fiction Friday: Silence

The silence woke her. Caitie wasn’t used to that. If Mark wasn’t breathing soundly next to her, he was usually making news somewhere else in the house. Mostly in the weight room they’d set up shortly after the wedding. But, she could usually hear the clank of the weights or his grunts as he lifted himself on the pull-up bar through the air vent.

But, there was nothing. Panic flashed through her for a moment before reason settled in again. He’d probably gone for a run. It was fine. Everything would be all right. If that was the case, he would have left a note.

He’d probably woken from a nightmare, and needed to pound the old ghosts out of his brain. It wouldn’t be the first time. Usually those nightmares woke her as well, and she could comfort him out of them.

She grabbed a sweatshirt from the floor and realized it was Mark’s as she pulled it over her head. She didn’t bother with pants. If she did find him, she knew more ways than running to exorcise those demons in his mind.

Even though she hadn’t heard anything, she went down the stairs first. Sometimes she had found him just sitting on the weight bench, his head in his hands, sweat running down him from a hard workout. But, the light in the weight room was still off. She turned and headed back toward the kitchen.

Flicking on the under cabinet light, she glanced around for a note. There was nothing there, either. The panic tried to work its way in again. She wasn’t going to let it, though. He wouldn’t take off on her like this. Not after all this time. Not now. But, where would he have gone?

Then, she heard it. Down the hallway. A rhythmic creaking. She tensed, thinking it was a floorboard. Someone was sneaking through the house. Then, she recognized the rhythm of creaks. Not someone walking around. A rocking chair. And there was only one room it could be coming from.

She stopped in the doorway of the smallest bedroom in their house. The crib that stood against one wall. A dresser that was already filled with little outfits. They had so many people that already loved their child, loved them, they hadn’t even had to buy any of those clothes themselves. And the rocking chair in the corner. The big man sitting in it, rocking back and forth, his head hanging down, his hands gripping the arms of the chair.

Her heart ached as she took another step into the room. “Mark?” she said softly. “What’s wrong, Mark?”

“I don’t deserve this,” he said, his voice rough. “I don’t deserve any of this.”

So it was one of those nights. “Bullshit,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “You deserve so much. You deserve me. Because I love you. Our love made this child who will be here anytime now.” She took his hand and set it against her stomach, where she could feel a foot pressing out. She felt Mark shudder. “And this baby is going to love you, look up to you.”

“He shouldn’t.”

“He should,” she argued. “You’re brave, you love so deeply, even if you don’t let yourself see it. You’re one of the best men I know, Mark Young. You need to stop forgetting that. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t still be so bloody in love with you.”

He laid his head against her stomach with a sob and she held him there, ignoring the tears rolling down her cheeks. He was going to be okay. She would make sure of it, no matter what.


Well, that one took a different turn than I’d expected at first. Mark and Caitie are from one of the earlier stories in my Flames series. They might have found love together, but it doesn’t make everything perfect. That’s one reason I like to write a connected series. You can see after the “happy ever after”, which doesn’t necessarily means it’s without it’s harder moments.


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