Archive for the Writing Category

This one night

Posted in Terribleminds Challenge, Uncategorized, Writing on March 19, 2013 by onethemis

“Will you stop that?” Niea frowned over her shoulder at the quivering mass of fur keening in the far corner. She put a slim cigarette to her lips and drew in heavily, held for a long moment, and then let out the fragrant smoke. It hardly made a difference as the air was already dense with the same blue smoke.

The mass unfolded to reveal a tall wolfman wearing a pair of ragged jeans and a faded blue plaid shirt whose once shiny mother of pearl buttons were densely covered in grime. He keened once more but managed to turn it in to a high pitched question.

“How can you smoke that foul clove shit? It burns my nose! Plus, while you may not be worried about living anymore, some of us are!” He crossed to the boarded up window nearest to him and began slamming his fist in to it. The weathered wood soon gave way and splintered outward letting a thin stream of cool fresh night air in to the suffocating room. He put his nose to the little hole and eyed her while working to widen the small spot.

Niea gave a throaty laugh and shook her head.

“YOUR health? YOU the werewolf who tried to commit suicide by jumping off the roof of a two story building downtown last week? You, my friend, are lucky there was a pool underneath those trees. Otherwise how would you finish your hunt? And thats another thing! How HEALTHY can it be to eat so many crack addicts that now you get the deetees if you miss a meal?”

The wolfman growled unhappily at her and pushed harder than he had meant to on the remaining wooden blockage. It fell away and he almost followed it through the long thin brick window casement. Niea closed the distance between them with a swift stride and grabbed exposed tufts of hair to haul him back.

“Fuck! That HURTS! Would it kill you to be a little more gentle??” He glowered at her from beneath his pronounced canine brow and bared his overly pointy teeth at her. She sneered at him and made a flourish at the length of her rotting body.

“And you’re one to talk about others shortcomings.” He snarled to cover the gaffe. “Look here.” He reached toward her and she flinched away a little but he plucked something from the bloodless gash that ran from her ear to the corner of her mouth.

“Look at these teeth!” He brandished them in front of her eyes. “They aren’t even YOURS! As a matter of fact I’m pretty sure they aren’t HUMAN.” He gave her a more critical look as the smoke haze had almost cleared from the room and his eyes and nose weren’t watering so badly. He turned her this way and that poking and grabbing. By the time he was done there were no less than twelve teeth, three chunks of femur, and two almost whole scapula in his hands all in various states of decay.

“Where the Hell did these come from?!” He demanded. She shrugged, took another drag on her cigarette and loosed a fresh stream of smoke right into his wolfish nose. A sneezing fit caught and held him new runnels of clear liquid making their way out of his soft eye tissue and nostrils.

She stepped over to the window and stood a little behind him. She looked out into the night and lit a new cigarette off the last nub of the old and did some contemplating. She had not always been in such bad shape. She had been one of the most beautiful Queens the dead of the modern era had seen. She had also been one of the smartest. She had organized the living dead so that they would prey only on the dregs of society. They had avoided an uprising for almost two hundred years, and the city had been, moderately, better for the ghoulish work her people did. She had been a paragon of her kind in both mind and body, until two weeks ago.

She and a small band of her brightest had been feeding in a cozy little crack house they had found when this fucking asshole had come in on them and started maiming and permanently killing her little band. Apparently he was a ‘big fish’ and they had ruined his merchandise in their fervor. He had done things to her that would most certainly have killed her were she not already dead.

“We need to stop squabbling and get to work.” Focusing her eyes back on the scene outside the window. She had found the werewolf then. She had heard about him before but had no reason to seek him out. Those of the underworld rarely bothered each other but in this case, fresh out of followers as she was, she had needed help to set the trap. The wolf had been trying to get his claws into this slimy character for a while. While she and her kind were usually do gooders out of necessity he had actually started out to ‘fight crime and injustice’, or some such crap. Tonight would be something of a pinnacle for him while for her this was pure revenge.

A slight shuffle came from the darker end of the room they stood in. The werewolf threw a cautious eye in that direction but she shook her head.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine.” A clatter below proved to be the swift form of their mutual prey. It would be mere moments now. Niea moved into the dark and the werewolf found his own shadow next to the door. The wait was interminable but then the door was creaking open. There he was stupid and solitary walking confident into their trap. The werewolf lunged and a shot rang out but a normal bullet never hurt a wolfman.

Niea pulled a mason jar filled with Mama Juju secret sauce and the soul of a fierce warrior, who also happened to like men, alot, from her bag. She smashed it against the thick chest of the troll she had chained there. The soul leaked in through the wounds and as soon as sense focused the beasts eyes she set it free.

“Here you go big man. One last night on the town.” She smiled with her too wide mouth down at the man who had literally been scared shitless. Well that might make it easier for him she supposed. The wolf sat back smiling a drooly smile and wagging his tail as the troll-warrior mix took the man in its huge hands.

“And after my buddy here is finished returning what you gave to me the other night, I think dog boy’s hungry.”


This is in response to a Terribleminds challenge. We were to go to and get a pairing to use in the story. Mine was ‘He’s a suicidal drug-addicted werewolf looking for ‘The Big One’. She’s a chain-smoking kleptomaniac queen of the dead with the soul of a mighty warrior. They fight crime. It was supposed to be 1k. Mine is slightly longer at 1133. Ah well.


Posted in Terribleminds Challenge, Writing on March 4, 2013 by onethemis

Usually I put this at the end, but given the nature of this post I am going to put my chatty bit right at the front. First, in this weeks challenge I drew Erotica. If this type of literature offends you then please do not read it. Next, I actually did quite a bit of research on odd things which possibly got me on one or more ‘lists’, lol. I drew the genre of Monster Erotica, the setting of an Opium Den, the theme is Revenge!, the item to include is a mysterious locket, and the conflict is Nature is mans greatest enemy. Finally, we have the required bit. This is for a terribleminds ( writing challenge! Now to the wordmaking!


Darren sat, nonplussed. He could not plausibly follow the chain of events that led him to where he currently sat. It wasn’t that he was particularly unhappy with the situation, but rather that he was unsure of what kind of situation he was in. His mind ran a gamut of scenarios that had his heart racing from trepidation to excitement, and everywhere in between.

He flopped back into the impossibly soft red velvet embrace of the sofa. The blue curling smoke that hazed the air was beginning to mellow his thoughts. The sweet almost cloying scent seemed to overlay another odor that he could almost place. His brain was letting go though and his muscles were following suit. A soft clink told him that his hand had lost its hold on the little golden locket that had brought him here.

His friends had dragged him out to a party. In truth he hadn’t wanted to go because he all but knew his ex would be there. It was drama he didn’t need right now, but the pull of a night out had been greater than the repulsion of a possible confrontation. It had proved to be less that fun and he had been on the verge of declaring it dry when she had walked in.

The girl was a solid dime. She had the soft full curves of a mature woman. Her confidence in herself had slid into the room in front of her and she had very much interested him. He had moved up on her and was getting ready to lay it on when she looked at him. He left his mouth hanging open as their eyes met. It was not her extreme beauty that had rendered him speechless, rather it was the spark he saw in her eyes that he recognized as pure stupid crazy. He was trying to formulate something to say, other than what he had planned, when she had moved in.

Her mouth on his felt as warm and smooth as hot chocolate all sweetness and liquid silk. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted or truthfully when it ended. It seemed to him that he had come back to himself by himself and she nowhere in sight. He had combed the place but she wasn’t there. It was only after he had given up that he had realized the locket was around his neck.

It was unclear if he had opened it or if there was some kind of map on it. All he knew for sure was that the locket had led him here. It was down an alley and through a scarlet door that he had come. He had walked willingly into this dark pungent place in hopes of finding that touch again. Now that he was here though and the roiling smoke was filling his being he was content.

A small sound came from behind and he tried to rise but a soft hand held him down.

“Stay there for a moment.” The voice as rich and deep as a summer night flowed around him. It matched her kiss he decided and lay where he was. He felt something cool and slick slither across his face and flinched slightly until she tightened it around his head covering his eyes. Ah, so it was only a blindfold. Well if a blindfold was as freaky as she got he would accept it gladly.

Her hands moved down tracking their way inside his shirt and peeling it off his willing body. As it came off over his head she took his mouth from above. He wasn’t sure if it was the drug or just his imagination but somehow the contact was different this time. Her mouth tasted of spices and she felt more seeking than the previous soft melting. It was as exotic as the last was familiar. The comparison was driven from his mind though as she separated her mouth from his only to deposit her full breasts squarely in his face as she bent over to free him of his trousers.

His hands moved up to the low hanging fruit and he drew one large nipple into his mouth and pulled on it with gentle pressure and the bare edges of teeth while he kneaded and rolled the other between his fingers. He felt her back arch but put an arm around her to keep her from getting too far from his mouth. Her little gasping exhalations excited him further and her hands slowed at their own work. She tugged weakly at waistband and he lifted his hips so she could free him and soon his pants were puddled around his ankles.

She slid her hands over him squeezing and kneading even as he had done to her, gentle but insistent with his proud flesh. Her teeth and tongue brought him to the verge but did not push him over it. She suddenly was receding from him as the ocean drawing from high to low tide. He felt the chill on his skin and grasped the air where her warmth had been only a moment before.

There were sliding sounds and he followed as it crossed the room. A light rummaging and a quiet humming. What kind of suspense was this to leave a man in? He had almost worked himself up to going after her when suddenly light came back to his world. Above him in all her glory was the dime from the party. In her hand swung the black silken blindfold. Even the dim light seemed bright in that moment as his eyes adjusted. He took in the fine mocha skin and the small but shapely breasts that had been tattooed with vines. He was beginning to register that her body didn’t seem to fit what he had felt when a glint from her tattoo caught his eye. The artwork was so realistic that in places the flowers and dew laden leaves seemed to be growing from her skin. He reached up to place a finger on one only to find out it was indeed real.

Her face made a little oh of mock surprise and he was working on processing this information when she smirked and shifted her eyes to the side. Mouth open in bewilderment he followed her gaze to the nearing slithering noise. He had only a moment to take in this new piece of information. The underlying scent finally placed itself. His ex had kept a snake was his last thought before his eyes hardened.

Nature placed one hand on each of his shoulders and straddled him sinking down on his hardness with a sigh. She lay her head on the rapidly cooling onyx statue as she gently rocked her hips. To the side the snake woman narrowed her eyes and asked “Why?” in quiet broken tones. Nature rose from her conquest leaving his forever solid member glittering wetly and went to the gorgon. She stooped to pick up the fallen locket as she moved, all fluid grace, across the intervening space.

She trailed a vine marked hand over the lightly scaled abdomen and then straddled the thick well muscled tail. From behind she pulled the thin chain to encircle the snake womans neck and then closed the clasp. She pressed her naked flesh against smooth joining between snake and human skin. Her hands snaked around to cup and tug at the other womans heavy breasts as she leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“You know why.” She licked her breath tickling an ear with her breath. “You dare to seek mere men when you have one such as I.” Then in order to complete her revenge she set about making the womans snake half writhe and wriggle as she brought her pleasure. After she was done Nature looked through the twining opium smoke to where the poor human she had used as bait sat forlornly and shrugged. Humans were meant to be used by ones such as they. Still she felt a small twinge at his poor luck. Well, maybe she’d use him in her garden. She could always use another statue.

Fortune’s Eye

Posted in Terribleminds Challenge, Writing on February 28, 2013 by onethemis

A summer breeze gently flapped the edges of the tent and brought the end of day scents to the crones nose. Stale popcorn mingled in delicate balance with spoiling strawberries and a tinge of not-so-old vomit. The last sticky footsteps had long since passed the entrance to her fabric castle herded along by men and women with slack mouthed stares apathy plain on their faces.

The old woman rose from her cushioned seat and made her hunching way out of the tent. Each step was slow and precise as if planned carefully in advance. Her bones ached and with each step pain flared in her joints, but still she moved on. She skirted the dark stain in front of the tent where a child had spilled her drink early in the day. A mother had complained of waste and the girl had cried and pouted as the two had moved too far to hear. The cup left as it had fallen and shortly it had been trampled under the press of a thousand different types of shoes.

All was quiet now.

The people gone.

The rides silent hulking shapes in the night.

The crone turned her face to the sky and stared with watery rheum eyes at the golden moon round and full with promise. Her wrinkles rounded and folded back on themselves mimicking the gently rolling hills of her childhood and then split suddenly as the white half moon of her smile emerged.

A night with two moons.

Silver and Gold.

Repayment and Return.

It had been a very long time since she had come to this place. She had once been lovely and youthful, but in her youth had lain the arrogance that so often accompanies that passing affliction. She had not thought it so wrong back then. How could loving someone be wrong? She had claimed him for herself even after she found he belonged to another.

The other was a jealous thing.

The other was a powerful being.

The other would not render up its possession.

And so the crone in all her fiery passion had set out to find a way to free her lover from the grip of his master. Ahhh how the crone remembered with longing the lithe form she had once enjoyed. She had fancied herself like unto a shadow. She had been so sure that she could steal from a Meister one small item. But Meister’s were as jealous of their possessions as Masters were.

She had gotten away with the small ring. The shining snake of silver with the golden drop for an eye. She had known that she would be caught as soon as her hand had closed about the vicious little circle and it had marked her. But she had run. Oh! How she had run! She had found her love and slipped it on to his finger.

Then he was Gone.

And she was Caught.

And, then, there was a Price to pay.

So she had sat age after eon after era. She had sat and she had told stories of hands, and cards, and tea leavings. She was shackled to prophecy and to the future of others as long as there was someone to ask it she must answer. She must render up her life in the form of glimpses of tomorrow for the ignorant masses. Every day that passed she must give up bits of herself until the day when no one asked.

Today no one had asked.

Today the shackle had fallen.

Tomorrow she would no longer sit.

But tonight she was an old woman and she wanted to see the stars. She had almost made it to the Eye. It was the best place to watch the sky and not at all hard to set to run automatically. When her hair had been red and her skin smooth such wonders to her as the Eye had been impossible. Now her hair was gray and her face a map of her childhood home and more years than any woman had a right were behind her, and such things were commonplace. Now too things that had been commonplace were delegated to fantasy. She shook her head and flipped the switch.

The Eye glimmered.

The Eye turned.

The Eye paused.

The little old woman settled herself in the gondola and then the Eye turned again, as if it had waited for her. The familiar float and stop of the auto setting continued until she was at the apex. She knew that now the Eye would turn for ten revolutions and then begin the disembarking procedure. She shut her eyes and folded her tiny creased hands in her lap and simply smelled the night. The stench of the place did not find her here and again a smile passed across her lips. A fluttering brought her eyes open again and she watched with quiet eyes as the wind deposited a scrap of paper on the seat next to her. She picked it up, curious, and stared at the drying ink.

I have watched.

I have waited.

My heart calls, will yours answer?

Her eyes widened and her lips shook. She stood eyes fixed on the scrap of hope. Inside her chest a thunderstorm began while an earthquake broke along her limbs. Her heart heated, then swelled, then burst. Flame ran through the fissures of her skin as she lifted her eyes once again to the stars. The Lovers debt was paid and he had waited all this long time. It would not do to make him wait a moment more.

Each feather burned.

A glorious funeral pyre.

A rising comet.

Like a red and gold fire work she trailed light as she rose, and then burst into a million sparks as she followed where he had gone. The soft flow of air over the seat began to carry off the soft gray dirt, all that remains of the shed mortal coil. Suddenly shabby and mundane the Eye moved on.


This was written for the terribleminds writing challenge this week. Random number generator gave me Magical Realism, an amusement park after dark, and a love letter.

Word Hunt

Posted in Terribleminds Challenge, Writing on February 7, 2013 by onethemis

I almost missed this weeks challenge! Hah! I had to think about it a bit and I have to say my haiku is not elegant, but here you are a story in three haiku.



The book is opened

Words spill, flutter, languish, flow

They have all escaped


Who will chase them down?

Sorry unlucky hero

No spellcheck for you


Know their every curve

Secret nooks and hidden tales

Stuff them back inside

E-Pirates: Tides They are A-Changin

Posted in Personal, Political, Uncategorized, Writing on February 6, 2013 by onethemis


I have long had thoughts about piracy of any kind and following along with a new blog, terribleminds by Chuck Wendig, that I have recently become fond of I have decided to post as he has asked his readers. Now the picture above pokes a bit of fun and the post Chuck Wendig has here gives a fair view of both sides. Although the topic there is about e-books mainly he points out it can happen with just about anything these days. I would some day like to have others read my writing and I have asked myself where I stand on this issue, and this gives me a pretty good opportunity to put what I have come to out for others to ridicule.

This is supposed to be for #25 International ‘Please Don’t Pirate My Book’ Day. So, this is me saying please don’t pirate things. After that here are my feeling on the matter.

Inside my mind there are two options;

1. My Way

I will only ever write because I love to tell stories. If I can make money off of it good on us all. I, of course, would love to make a million bucks on a story and live in a fairy tale blah blah blah but really I probably have an equal chance of winning the freaking lottery. If I tell you a story and you like it then I am happy and hope that you will toss some coin in my hat. However, once I release my words they no longer ‘belong’ to me they are now community property. If I enjoy doing it and do it well people will gravitate toward me, show appreciation, and maybe ask for(err demand) more.  After I have a sufficient following monetary compensation can be gained for appearances, endorsements, donations, and commissions (much like other artists). If I don’t ever get there well at least I did what made me happy.

2. A Change in Ways

An alternate take uses television as an example. You pay for your service but a show itself is ‘free’. You pay for individual shows by watching ads, and if you don’t want to watch adds you can pay a little more to have ways to skip them. You can also buy a physical copy of many shows so you can watch it any time any where. I do believe other forms of media need to pay attention to this model. Radio already has with services like Slacker Radio and Spotify. In this way everyone makes money and the consumer is happy. In this day and age it is all about instant gratification. If you don’t please the consumer someone else will.

So there it is its Love vs. Gratification

P.S. This isn’t supposed to be until tomorrow, but I will forget, so here it is.

I Favor Fire

Posted in Terribleminds Challenge, Writing on January 27, 2013 by onethemis

I awoke on the floor, slightly confused. A thick orange light was oozing in through panes of glass to my left. I stood and walked to the glass placing my hands on its surface and feeling the warmth flow through, even though it seemed there was at least a foot of the stuff between myself and the roiling mass of chaos below. I gazed through my imperfect indistinct reflection as I contemplated the randomness in the patterns of orange, yellow, and black that twined in the molten earth playing there just a little way beneath my feet. To my eyes it was a beautiful dance an answer to all my questions and a relief to my worries.

Not everyone felt the same though, I acknowledged, as my eyes shifted to the small patch of blue high above. It hovered there forlorn among the dense billowing clouds of ash. A twinge in my soul was drawing me and with a heavy sigh I bid adieu to the dark self living in the glass. I entered the small service elevator that had been chipped out of the rock at the rear of the room and pulled the lever. There were only two stops it made, the room and the mountain side. When the door wooshed open I was in fresh cool air away from the toxic gasses that filled the caldera. I had a sneaking suspicion that the room below was breaking down, and as a result those gasses were invading and had caused my odd choice of napping location. The twinge had turned into a sharp stabbing, indeed it was almost time.

I turned to center myself on the direction of my pain and then gave a gentle push with my feet. The obliging Earth loosed its hold on me and I ascended. Soon I was surrounded by blue with the column of ash at my back as I faced West and waited. It did not take her long to appear this source of growing agony in my chest. She was swathed from head to foot in loose fitting ice blue fabric and the whipping wind that held her aloft, and battered at me, did nothing to even ruffle an edge of the gauzy veil that covered her face.

“You should not have come.” I did not raise my voice for I knew she could hear me. She was like a wild dog that bared its teeth and raised it hackles at a wolf. She knew she could not win and so she bluffed.

“You can not do this!” She retorted forcefully then in a softer voice, almost pleading, “You can not do this.”

“But I must.” I answered my voice calm with years of experience and my final conviction.

Anger rose in her eyes and she lifted her arms above her head in a swift jerk. Around us snow and ice that still coated nearby peaks rose and coalesced into a misshapen mass above and in front of her. She slammed her arms down and the conglomeration descended carried by a maelstrom of turbulent air. The woman followed close behind and I followed her. I found her standing almost at the center of what had been my beautiful lava ball. Now it was a shining expanse of luminescent white ice. I landed and eyed the reflection stretching from my feet. The ice, like the glass, made an imperfect copy of my form despite its smooth perfection. Here though I was a white light to combat the shadowed self in the glass.

The woman faced me and her chest heaved with the effort this had cost her. The winds died and she ripped the veil from her face.

“Look here I have dashed your plans! The others will be here shortly to make my patch more permanent.”

I nudged the surface of the ice already gaining a slim layer of water.

“I know you love the humans,” I began, but she interrupted.

“You are human too! Like me!”

“No. No, I stopped being merely human long ago. I can not chain myself to such a sordid and tawdry fate. They are cruel and careless and destructive, and there are too many of them.”

“And you would play God by deciding who lives and who dies? Why here? What have these people done to make them more deserving of this fate than any other?”

“Nothing, but you seem to misunderstand… This is not the plan, merely the catalyst. I am not going to pick and choose those who live or those who die. I am merely setting the balance back to even. After that the laws of Nature will take over and perhaps these humans will learn from their past. If not…” I shrugged.

I watched as sudden understanding dawned upon her face, my face. The only true mirror of myself really, and yet it was only skin deep. I had made the effort to distract her but I had always known she would come for she was the push to my pull. If she had not come perhaps we could have lived. She would have been able to assist her precious humans as they struggled back from this massive global eruption, and I could have continued on as a watchdog.

Now though I smiled gently at the sister who had come in to the world just a little behind me. I felt the lava rolling sluggishly toward the surface needing the smallest of nudges, and as she had earlier I thrust my arms high.



This is my entry for the Flash Fiction Challenge from Terribleminds. I’ve never done one before but it seems like a good way to work on my 1337 skills (lol). The challenge was to randomly (used a random number generator) choose a motif (mirrors), a sub-genre (ecothriller aka wtf), and a setting (villains volcano lair) cheating is easy but this is supposed to take effort right so I worked at ecothriller although I’m not sure there’s much evident here, sorry. I used one of my favorite Frost poems ‘Fire and Ice’ as inspiration hence the name! Thanks for reading.