Category Archives: Uncategorized

61. Bewildered

“How did I manage to get a girl like you?”

“Oh just lucky I guess. Now get out of here. The office can’t very well run itself. The computers haven’t gotten that good yet.”

Melissa smiled as her husband leaned down and kissed her once, standing on her toes. She watched as he grabbed his briefcase from its place on the kitchen table, waving as he finally stepped out the door.

Once she heard the click of the door locking she let out a sigh, sitting back down in front of her breakfast. She’s barely touched the omelette and toast, stomach roaring as she instead sipped her tea. A heavy, herbal thing, it always made the kitchen smell like a garden. She gave up on eating, leaving the plate to deal with later. Fingers curled around the mug, she walked back up the stairs. Why she continued to wake up to see David off she had no idea. She hardly needed to, after all.

Going into the bedroom, she set her mug on top of one of the dressers. Melissa whistled as she went about getting ready, the shrill noise cutting through the otherwise silent home. As she reached for a bottle of perfume on her vanity, she frowned as she found not a drop of it left.

“Guess that settles plans for today.” she tucked the bottle into her pocket. “Should have what I need to make more of it…”

The tea was ice cold by the time she grabbed for the cup. Shaking her head she walked out without it. Still whistling her off key little song, she sauntered down the hall. The door she stopped in front of was quite helpfully labeled as “Melissa’s Craft Room” in sparkling, purple letters. She removed a small, silver key from the chain around her neck, fitting it into the locked knob. Out of habit, she immediately closed the door behind her as she stepped in.

If the tea made the kitchen smell like a garden, the room here smelled like a warm, densely-packed greenhouse. Herbs were hanging and drying in the windowsills, and potted plants of various sizes and shapes all bent towards the sun as well. And the crystals…Shelf upon shelf in the room were covered in stone, bone, and a number of things inbetween.

“It’s about time for me to renew the spell as well. It’s been almost 30 nights of sleep.” she tapped her shin, setting the bottle from her vanity down on the small work table. “Let’s get that started first.”

She walked to a closed cabinet, tossing open the roods. A host of jars and small glass vials filled with unknown things rattled against one another as she did so. Her fingers brushed against each container as she searched.

“Now where on Earth did I put that batch of heartstrings?”


Dinner was always on the table promptly at 6:15, so it was cool enough to eat when David walked in at 6:27. Every night, right on the dot.

“It smells fantastic in here.” His voice was followed by the thudding of his dress shoes hitting the hardwood floors.

“I was feeling crafty today. New recipe I found on Pinterest.”     “You’re the best.” he kissed her on the cheek as he walked into the small dining room.

“I try. Oh! I forgot the wine.” She walked past him, back into the kitchen.

Two glasses of red wine, and the bottle, sat on the counter. Humming absently to herself, she withdrew a black vial from her pocket. She tipped the contents into one of the two glasses and gave it a stir with her finger.

“Thanks Babe.” David had already started to fill his plate before she set the glass in front of him.

“Of course.” she took hers to her seat and took a long drink.

“I really am the luckiest.”

“Oh sweetie, I’m the luckiest.” She watched as he took a drink. For a moment, his pretty blue eyes turned as dark as the glass in Melissa’s pocket. “I’m just the luckiest to have you.”


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Filed under Flash Fiction, Stories, Uncategorized

It lives! Return of the Author

Oh my goodness, if blogs collected layers of dust like notebooks do, I’d be having an asthma attack I’m pretty sure!

I promise, I’ve been working on a few little things off of the prompt list, which you’ll see one of today! For the next little while, there’ll be one new post guaranteed on Wednesdays (at the very least for the next month or so). They’re rough, and mostly only edited for the massive amounts of spelling errors that tend to plague everything I do.

Poetry is still pretty sporadic and dependent on if it survives getting torn to pieces and tossed at the cat when she misbehaves. Which lately? The cat is getting a little buried in paper scraps.

Current writing status: Trying to conquer writer’s block one gel pen at a time. Today, it’s a copper one. Tomorrow, I’m thinking neon. Writer’s block hates florescence.

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Filed under Author's Notes, Uncategorized

The Tin Man and Dorothy

It makes sense why the Scarecrow
Was the one Dorothy missed most of all.
After all, the lion was a monster of a thing,
And the Tin Man was a mess.
Well, you see, his heart was already breaking.
And you can’t squeeze a heart
Out of a tin can man.
Rain (and certianly not any kind of tears)
Had long ago rusted
Rivets that held the hatch
Over where his heart should go.
The nails she bit off weren’t sharp enough
The fingers that shook weren’t thin enough
The smile she found behind the curtian wasn’t bright enough
To pry his chest back open.
To put the cogwork heart back inside.

Her fleshy heart was
Patchwork to start with.
She never much missed it until
It relfected in the blue-
Of his eyes-
And then for the first time in
Witches only know how long,
She heard a single tick.
And she dreamed that He did too.

But the wizard’s gifts were some assembly required.
Her pile of felt squares and multi-colored thread
Weren’t so important to her now.
A clock was delicate. A clock needed
Four hands even though it only
Had two.
Only when she dreamed, she sewed
Together the pieces of felt
Into Feeling.

Alice had it fucking easy.
After all, her hatter was mad for her.
Dorothy was left with a pile
Of tattered rainbow felt
In Kansas, barren as
What was left of an unticking heart.

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Filed under Poetry, Uncategorized

Christmas Poem

Look, all the presents were great.

I don’t think I’ve eaten so much

All year either.

Because, let’s face it;

Mom’s cooking is the best kind.

And cheesecake is for

Super special occasions only.

But it’s the quiet moments,

The mostly free ones:

Drunk and watching Game of Thrones

At 3am, cheering when our favorite

Little bastard waltzed onto the screen;

Parents laughing with, and not at

As I bawled watching the

Doctor regenerate.

That’s Christmas.

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