Rules to Live By

This week’s Flash Fiction piece was inspired by one of my sister’s random questions.


Rosalyn dreaded waking up. Her fiancé had ruined mornings for her.

There were certain rules she had to live by. Some she didn’t mind, they were rules she would have put in place.  There were others that she didn’t like. The worst rule was having to give him a blowjob every morning before she could get out of bed. It didn’t matter if she had to go to the bathroom, she had to take care of him first. She’d made that mistake before.

This morning was going to end differently. Rosalyn waited for the alarm to go off. She couldn’t wake him up early or he would know something was wrong.

There was a time that she liked going down on guys. She liked the control she had over their orgasms. Now it was a chore.

The alarm started blaring from the other side of the bed. He turned it off and threw the covers back. Rosalyn sighed and went over to his side of the bed. When she got into position, one hand holding his pathetic prick, she looked up at him and smiled. Turning back to what had become the bane of her existence, she took him into her mouth.

Rosalyn enjoyed herself this morning. She knew it would be the last time she would have to do this. She got him nice and hard. Glancing up at him she smiled and then bit down.

Rosalyn thought she would feel bad, but all she felt was elation when her teeth she’d spent a week filing razor-sharp severed his cock clean off. She sat up, blood dripping down her chin, and spit the lump of meat onto his stomach. Then he started to scream.

She got off the bed and looked at him. She didn’t feel anything. Leaving him scrambling for his phone and blankets to staunch the blood, she walked out.


Flash Fiction Friday

Happy Friday Campers! I have been in the throes of cleaning in preparation for a visit from the in-laws and the little one’s birthday. I was able to steal a couple of hours yesterday to get this week’s story done. Enjoy!


I woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of the night before. I lay on something cold and hard. There was a bright light shining through my eyelids. Where the hell was I?

I cracked open one eye to find the bright light was the sun. I braced myself and opened the other eye. It was hard to focus at first, the pounding in my head making my vision pulse to the rhythm. Once I was able to focus I found myself in a forest.

I eased into a sitting position. I looked around hoping to find some land mark to tell me where I was. There was nothing around me but trees. I looked down at myself to search for my sunglasses and saw a note taped to my shirt. I pulled it off, squinting at the white sheet.

“Mr. Glass,” it began. “We met a few years ago. You loved to drink then too.” I felt my pockets for sunglasses because the white of the paper made my headache worse. My search turning up nothing but a gum wrapper, I went back to the letter.

“It was during one of your drunken stupors that you forced yourself on me. I have not been able to recover from that night, a night you don’t even remember. I have decided this is my only recourse if I am to rid myself of the demons you have plagued me with. Take a deep breath and enjoy it, because it will be your last.”

As I dropped the letter, looking for a way to escape, I heard the unmistakable boom of a rifle.

Flash Fiction Friday

Happy Friday Campers! I hope you all had a lovely week. It is sunny and almost 70 degrees up here in the pacific northwest (well it will be by this afternoon anyway). The spring fair is going on this weekend. Time to get out into the yard, fix the panels on my greenhouse and get to planting! But before we do that, here is our story for today. Have a great weekend!


“Stacey Smith was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Sources say that she showed no remorse and laughed at the jury.”

I dropped the cup I was washing. I ran out into the living room but the news anchor moved on to another story. I plopped down on the couch. I was dumbfounded. She’d done it. She’d snapped and done it.

I got up and grabbed my phone. Who was I going to call? If I had to find out this way and I was her best friend then no one else knew about it either. I dropped the phone and went to the computer. I needed to know what happened.

Within minutes all the gory details were displayed on the screen. She’d been driving and someone cut her off. She sped up and rammed into the back of the car, slamming them into a guard rail. The guy driving the other car got out yelling, my crazy friend got out with a gun and a baseball bat. She shot him in the knee then beat him to death with the bat, yelling “Dumb ass!” the entire time. I turned away from the computer. I had to talk to her. She always said she was going to shoot the next stupid person she came across, but I thought it was a joke.

The next weekend I went to the prison to see her. The guards looked at me like I was out of my mind when I told them who I wanted to see. I waited until my name was called. Walking into the visiting room was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. They led her through a door and over to the table where I was sitting. We were separated by a sheet of plexiglass.

“Lisa!” she yelled.

“Stacey.” Words lodged in my throat. How do you ask your best friend why she killed someone?

“How did you find out?” she asked.

“I heard it on the news.” I said.

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way. I couldn’t call anyone once things got rolling.” she looked like we were just two old friends talking about the latest movie.

“Why? Why did you do it?”

She sighed, “I couldn’t take the dumb asses anymore. He was the straw that broke my back. That whole day I’d dealt with so much stupidity that I snapped.” she smiled. “And it felt good.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. She had gone crazy. Or maybe she always was. “They say you laughed at the jury?”

She giggled, “I wasn’t laughing at anyone in particular. I was laughing because I don’t have to deal with the stupidity of the world anymore.”

“Time’s up”, the guard said from the doorway.

“Take care of yourself Lisa. And come visit again.” She got up and the guard put the handcuffs on her.

“You take care of yourself too.” I said.

She smiled as she was led away. I was happy she’d found peace and equally glad she was off the streets. I love her but she was always a little off.


Flash Fiction Friday

My feet hurt. That realization hit me as I stood looking out at the Pacific Ocean for the third time in ten years. Had it been that long? I thought about the events that lead me to start this journey.

I remember sitting in my little apartment feeling sorry for myself. I’d been laid off. I had enough money to make it for two months. I didn’t have a boyfriend or any real friends at the time. I decided I needed to do something drastic. I sold all of my furniture, emptied out my bank account and packed a backpack with enough essentials for one week. I figured I would know what to do with my life by the end of that week. I walked out my front door and kept going.

I have walked across this country three times now. It’s amazing how little a person needs. I don’t miss my computer or my phone. When I stop for supplies I grab a newspaper to keep up with current events.

Today I have another decision to make. Do I continue on or try to re-enter society? As I stare at the waves crashing against the rocks below I hear other people around me. The tourists have arrived.

I turn around to watch them climb out of their cars. Some notice me and some don’t. The ones that do have a range of expressions, from disgust to pity. I watch as those with children try to herd them away from me like I’m a leper, the children never looking up from the screen in their hands. They step to the edge of the cliff in groups; the parents trying to get the attention of the kids and the kids not caring about the world around them. The adults sigh and look at each other acknowledging another failed family outing.

I strap on my backpack and start walking. I’ll see if the world is ready for me in another ten years.

Rewrites are good…

There was something wrong with my WIP. I couldn’t put my finger on it but it was ringing wrong with me. I shelved it for a couple months to come back at it with fresh eyes. I decided an entire rewrite is in order.
The whole concept I had going was just cliché as hell. I was also pantsing it. So this time I am making an outline. A rough outline but it’s an outline. I’m also keeping the same basic idea for my MC, just shoving it in a different setting. This new setting will give me more wiggle room and may lead to sequels.
As for my writer/serial killer story…it is coming along quite well. There’s no rhyme or reason to who/why she kills. Someone could cut her off on the freeway and she’d end up killing them in a month. It all centers around what makes good stories for her. A very sick woman. I’m so proud of her!
OK back to the grind. Stay tuned tomorrow for another Flash Fiction Friday piece!

Flash Fiction Friday


Today is my first installment of Flash Fiction Friday. Every Friday I will give you a new piece of fiction. Enjoy!


I wished I had a machine gun mounted to my car. I live twenty minutes from my office but with traffic it takes me over an hour to drive home.  I flipped through the radio stations to find some music to pass the time. I was paying attention to an idiot that was on his way to causing a crash when I thought I heard my name come through the radio. I scrolled though the stations slowly until I heard it again.

“Sarah, are you there?” My hand froze on the dial. It sounded like my mother. My parents died in a car crash ten years ago. I’d found some odd things in the basement of the house after their death. No one I asked had any ideas about what my parents were involved with at the time of their death.

I took a deep breath, “Mom?” There was no answer.

This was silly. There is no way that my mother was talking to me through the radio. I turned my attention back to the road.

“Sarah we miss you.”

I swerved and almost hit the car next to me. My heart was pounding. My mother was talking to me through the radio. How is this possible?

“Mom is that you?” I wanted to smack myself in the head. I could hear that comedian saying ‘Here’s your sign’. I looked up to check on the traffic and noticed I was halfway home. I needed to stop asking stupid questions.

“Yes it’s me sweetheart.” She paused like she was talking to someone in the background. “I’m sorry we left so sudden. We didn’t know it was going to happen that soon.”

“Mom what do you mean? You guys knew you were going to die?” Someone honked at me. I had to keep my eyes on the road.

“We knew someone was after us.” She said.

“What was all that stuff in the basement?” I passed the sign that said my exit was two miles away. At the rate traffic was going we’d be there in ten minutes.

“Your father and I were working on a top-secret project. The government learned we had stumbled across a serum that allowed a person’s mind to be controlled indefinitely. Up until then any mind control serum would wear off within twenty-four hours. They came to us and offered to fund our research if we could make a large batch of the serum. You can imagine the types of people who would pay for our whereabouts.”

“Someone leaked your location.” I knew where this was headed now.

“We were transporting the batch when we were hit. Anyone wanting the serum couldn’t come to the house because of the agents in the house next door. So they got us when we were in the car. I’m so sorry.”

“Those were government agents living in that house?” I’d known there was something weird going on. They never behaved like a couple.

“They were there to protect all of us. At least they succeeded with you.” She sounded farther away. “I have to go Sarah. We love you.”

“I love you mom.” Static answered me. I turned off the radio.

I drove the rest of the way home. I was happy that I got to talk to my mother one last time. I had the answers I’d been looking for. The few details the police gave me at the time was that another car had rear ended them. The driver of the other car forgot to put his seat belt on and went through his own windshield. The crash pushed their car into the path of an oncoming train. The train didn’t have enough time to sound the horn much less slow down. At the time I felt bad for the other driver. Now I have the satisfaction of knowing my parents’ killer was also dead, and the serum never fell into the hands of the wrong people.

I pulled into my driveway and turned off the car. I felt a peace I hadn’t felt in ten years.