Now Available to Own: In Creeps the Night Anthology!

I am beyond ecstatic to announce that yet another collection of tales shall sport one of my flash fiction pieces!  With beautiful design work by the talented Blue Harvest Creative, this anthology will grace any coffee table, bathroom counter, or bookshelf and get you in the mood for this spooktacular time of year.  A big thank you to Laura Jamez and Marissa Ames of J.A.Mes Press for their hard work in editing our stories.

There are so many amazing authors featured within these pages, but the most fabulous thing about this anthology is that all profits are donated to Mothers Without Borders.  This organization seeks to provide programs for orphaned children around the globe.  [For more information visit their website: http://www.motherswithoutborders.org]

I'm looking forward to snapping up a copy for myself!  Don't forget to leave the lights on tonight.  Mwahahaha...

Your Wish is My Command

Finish That Thought #2-12 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: Two wishes wasted; this third and final one was [our] last chance.
Special Challenge: Include at least two of the following: a genie, a magic carpet, a magic lamp, a magic ring, a Grand Vizier, a clever woman named Morgiana, a talking bird, Cerebrus, a Cyclops


Two wishes wasted; this third and final one was their last chance. I wasn’t going to cross my fingers and hope, though. Disappointment had long ago been replaced with indignation. I’d been so careful, researching down to the last detail, in picking the targets for my experiment and these college students were completely botching it.

“All right, you had your joke, where’s the trick wire?” the female one asked. Cass, at least that was her name on her Facebook profile, stood poking the magic carpet she’d conjured up with the first wish. The rug folded its tasseled corners as if they were arms and wiggled in a mocking manner. I’d had such great hopes for Cass, too. She was an active member in three campus support and relief groups, always posting things online and shoving petitions in people’s faces. How many times had she started out her statuses with “I wish?” Surely, she would have used her wish for something grand, no? And now she had a pet carpet. Typical.

Almost as soon as Cass had blurted out her wish, Matt, her companion and fellow activist, had laughed and wished for a Cyclops as big as his thumb. Boom, granted. Of course, it showed up on his thumb and had half the nail nibbled off before the man realized it was real. Matt flicked the poor creature off and stomped on it. Might I also take the time to point out that Matt is also an avid member of the “Fairies Are Real, Protect the Rainforests” group?

What were these two humans doing? Applauding. Asking me when the Aladdin production was starting up. Laughing at their “so smart” wishes. The guy just ruthlessly murdered a Cyclops! I was too dumbfounded to speak. They had one last wish between the two of them. Surely, surely they’d take a gander and do something good with that last glimmer of hope.

“Hey, genie! I wish for a lifetime supply of bacon! Now conjure that one up!” Matt crowed. The courtyard exploded with uncooked bacon.

I buried my head in my hands. No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen. I could feel my frustration building and building until it unleashed in a colossal outburst.

“You idiots!” I shouted. Thunder rumbled, clouds darkened, and the winds howled overhead as my temper escalated. “You could have wished for every person to have access to clean drinking water! You could have ended poverty! You could have wished for world peace! And what did you accomplish? You have a magic carpet, a squashed Cyclops, and a lifetime supply of bacon. Congratulations! You have completely ruined my faith in humanity. May all your bacon burn.”

I vanished in a puff of smoke as their jaws dropped.

The Last Piece of Pi[e]

Finish That Thought #2-11 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: Little did we realize that the peace and quiet of our country afternoon picnic was soon to be rudely shattered.
Special Challenge: Include a pie fight in all its gory detail

From Lindraxa's cooking blog

Little did they realize that the peace and quiet of their country afternoon picnic was soon to be rudely shattered. We felt bad for them, really. They had their checkered blanket all laid out and large, whicker basket propped in the grass. Whole-wheat sandwiches sat on brilliantly white paper plates and an opened bag of red grapes spilled across the sheet. But unfortunately for them, there wasn’t a cloud in the never-ending blue sky.

We strolled past the parked car on the edge of the field where the family of merry picnickers gathered and snickered at the B.C. license plate. Yup, they were clueless. Chester jabbed a thumb in their direction. “Should we warn ‘em?”

I shrugged. “Nah, let ‘em experience Alberta in all its glory.”

We snickered again and walked on by.


Fifteen minutes later we trekked to the field again, curious how our picnickers were making out. The sandwiches had vanished and when I squinted, I could just make out a slice of lemon meringue all by its lonesome. Around it hovered two teenage boys about our own ages, a younger girl, and what we presumed to be their dad. They were red-faced about something, and it wasn’t from the sun. Shooting curious glances at each other, Chester and I slipped our hands into the pockets of our overalls and slinked on over to get into hearing distance.

“3.14159265358979!” shouted the older of the two boys.

“3.141592653589793238!” countered the girl.

The father said something we couldn’t quite catch.

“3.14159265358979...323846264!” yelled the younger boy in triumph.

Chester and I took the momentary silence as an opportunity to blink at each other. Were they seriously fighting for the pie... with pi?

“3.141592653589793238462643383.”

“3.1415926535897932384626433832795!”

Round and round they went, tacking more and more numbers onto the end.

“Hey, Josh...”

I turned to my buddy, “Yeah, Chester?”

“There’s a cloud on the horizon.”

I looked where he pointed. Sure enough, a fluffy white cloud broke up the blue sky.

“Five minutes?” Chester asked.

“I’d say more like three. We better run to your house or we’ll get soaked.”

The rain came pouring down just as we jogged into Chester’s garage, soaking us as if we’d been standing out in a downpour for hours. We stood under the edge of the roof line, peering out at the dark clouds booming overhead.

I ran a hand through my wet locks. “Wonder how the pi[e] went.”

The Tragedy of Mrs. Chibbles: A Tale from Persimmon Hallow

Finish That Thought #2-10 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: The day [Anna dyed her hair purple] was the day the news broke that notorious mass murderer [John "The Chef" Baxter] had escaped from police custody.
Special Challenge: Incorporate some type of life lesson or moral



The day Mrs. Chibbles dyed her fur purple was the day the news broke that notorious mass murderer Evil-Eye Kinevil had escaped from police custody. Of course the former news out-rivaled the latter news by far in Persimmon Hallow. Kinevil had a habit of eluding Sheriff Hopsalot’s brute squad on a daily basis. Well, eluding or eating them as the case more often was. This unfortunate fact of life was one of the main factors in our continually electing the rabbits as our police force against the nefarious hawks. It didn’t matter how many brave, young lads the birds carted away, there were always 10 or 12 more bright-eyed, eager bunnies to take their places. Rapid breeding and all.

Now, where was I going with this? Oh yes! Mrs. Chibbles, the newest bride of Harry Chibbles the hedgehog, went into Selma Salamander’s Salon on Tuesday as usual to get her fur trimmed. This was a weekly habit of hers as the paparazzi hardly ever left the poor chinchilla alone. She didn’t mind the attention much, fame and food were two of the reasons she consented to the inter-specie marriage after all. She came from the city, where she had her own human servant to wait on her hand and foot. What brought her to our little community? I’m not sure exactly, though I think the “leaked” story, if you pardon that phrase, is that she grew tired of the glamour and decided to travel the world. Personally, I believe she fell out of a car on the way to somewhere and the human didn’t bother to retrieve her.

Ah, here I am digressing again. Anyway, Mrs. Chibbles went into that salon grey and came out purple. It was the most beautiful shade of purple I’d ever laid eyes on, a deep purple, like an eggplant. The horrors! The sacrilege! Never before had such a colour been seen in Persimmon Hallow. Beautiful though the colour was, we townsfolk found it extremely offensive. Well, those pesky mosquitoes swarmed on her in an instant with their microphones shoved against her snout and the fireflies stood by with their cameras flashing away. Mrs. Chibbles was in raptures. She preened her fur and strutted down Main Lane in all her rebellious glory.

Then, just like that, she was gone. Timothy Fieldmouse claims he saw old Evil-Eye glide off into the trees with a mass of purple fur clutched in his talons. As for me, I believe the Maker snatched her disgraceful hide from the earth. After all, chinchillas have no business being purple.