Tempting Fate

Serves me right for bragging. Last Tuesday I was all about how the sun was shining again and how awesome I was and how I had my writing mojo back. Ask me how I did the rest of the week. Go, on, I dare you.

Not so great. I got about ten more pages edited on Wandering Wizards and then I came to a spot that needed an infusion of Jessica and Dominic and ground to a halt.

It took me all day Saturday to write, and post, my prompt stories.

Yesterday it was warm and sunny, but I had charge of an active pre-schooler all day which is not exactly conducive to getting anything done.

Today it’s back to being cold enough for a coat and rainy enough that if I had rain boots I’d be wearing them. Also, for the next few days I’ll still be looking after the granddaughter when she’s not in pre-school.

*sigh*

The good news is, after Friday I’ll have five babysitting free days in a row. Almost like a vacation, for sure I’ll be able to spend some quality time with my lap top/Neo/notebook.

But let’s not say that out too loud – we wouldn’t want to tempt fate by putting a jinx on it.


Prompts of the Week

Prompt One
While preparing your garden at the beginning of spring, you find the blueprints for your house buried in the earth. When you pull it out and examine it, you find that there is a room in the blueprint that doesn’t exist in your house. Both disturbed and intrigued, you set off to find the missing room. Write what happens next.

Prompt Two
Write a love story about the dish and the spoon from the classic nursery rhyme “Hey Diddle Diddle.” How did they meet and why did they decide to run away together? Will their relationship last?

You don’t need to spend a lot of time on these, they’re just meant for fun. Take 5 minutes to think about it, then write for 10 or 15 minutes. And if it turns out you like what you’ve written, then by all means turn your exercise into an actual story. You can find these prompts, and others like them, at Writer's Digest .

Cats and Cookies

Have you noticed I tend to go one long and one short with these things usually? I have to admit, I wasn’t really feeling it for these prompts at first. Then I came up with something a little moody for the first one.

The second one seemed to take forever, mainly because as much as I love fairy tales, I couldn’t figure out which one to use for my story. And then it got a little long winded, but it is what it is.

Prompt One
Go over to your bookshelf, close your eyes, and pick up the first book you touch. Open the book to a random page, read the first full sentence on that page, and use it as the inspiration for a story or scene. Please include the original line at the beginning or end of your response.

From Bram Stoker’s Dracula: When I got almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, for I was now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of shadow.

It had not been an easy climb and I would have given up halfway had curiosity not taken root in me. No ghost this, but the figure resolved itself into that of a large, white cat, sitting as though it, too, had been carved from the same white marble as the bench below it.

We stared at each other, the cat and I, for the space of several heart beats. I was afraid to move, as it turned its head and became enigmatic and motionless. The air up here was cool with a hint of dampness promising rain. A chill breeze had the dead leaves dancing around the pedestal of the bench, but the cat’s fur remained unruffled.

The clouds chose that moment to part just enough so that a beam of sunlight fell upon the cat, turning the white fur into a blazing nimbus. My breath caught, and two points of living sapphire turned to stare at me once more.

I shut my eyes against the radiant beauty and when I opened them again, the clouds had covered the sun once more and the cat was gone. Was it real? Was it a spirit? Was it all just a dream?

With ponderous steps I went over to the marble bench and sat down. The view was spectacular, the cemetery spread out on all sides below, the checkerboard of light and dark racing with the cloud cover.

There was no sign of the cat. Nor did I ever see it again.


Prompt Two
Write a scene that involves a fairy tale trope turned on its head or otherwise deviating from typical expectations. For example: A princess who’s cruel to her kind stepmother; a golden goose that lays explosive eggs, a big, frightening wolf who really just wants a friend.

It was the girl’s idea. It usually was. Though both children were somewhat greedy and grasping she was the one who generally came up with the plots and plans.

She was the one who started the rumors about their parents being so poor they couldn’t afford to feed her and her brother, and how it was their mother’s idea to take them out into the woods and leave them there.

The first time it happened they were returned home by the constable, who gave their parents a fine and a stern lecture on what would happen to them if they ever tried such a thing again. The boy felt bad for his part in it, but the girl felt a great deal of satisfaction.

“That’ll teach them for trying to make me do chores,” she said to her brother.

The next time they had to go further afield because the constable had started to keep an eye on their farm. There was a rich couple, two villages over, that the girl knew of. She timed it just right and she and her brother stumbled out of the woods right as the couple were returning home. It was easy making the couple believe they’d been abused and abandoned. The boy had always been on the thin side, like his father, while the girl wore her least favorite dress and made sure it was torn and dirty.

For a while it had been great fun. They were dressed in the finest clothes and fed the best food, and had presents heaped upon them. But then the girl overheard the man telling his wife that they needed to let the authorities know about them, so that proper action could be taken against their terrible parents. That night they gathered up what they could carry and slipped away towards home.

Along the way they stumbled across the cottage where an old woman ran a rather successful bakery. In fact, she’d just recently renovated the house to make it look like it was made of gingerbread – a great advertising gimmick. The girl looked thoughtfully at the “Help Wanted” sign in the window and the boy could almost see the wheels turning. He had a feeling this was not going to bode well for him.

They returned home to a lukewarm greeting from their parents and one even less so from the constable.

“Here, now. Where have you two been? And don’t give me no tales about your parents losing you in the woods ‘cause they haven’t left the farm in more ‘n an week.”

“Why of course not, officer,” the girl said sweetly. “We were but visiting friends in another town. So sorry if you were worried.”

The constable harrumphed and went back to his jail where he didn’t have to worry about things like missing children and runaway children and the like.

The girl and her brother took the fine clothes and toys they’d collected to the market, where they sold them for a rather nice profit. Then the boy sat on a hay bale at the edge of the marketplace sipping a mug of apple cider while he watched his sister flit through the crowds dropping a coin here and a rumor there about the old woman being a witch with a predilection for eating children.

“There,” she said with satisfaction as she returned to collect her brother. “That’ll take care of the competition.”

The following day she and her brother presented themselves to the old woman at the gingerbread house.

“Well,” the old woman said, “You’re a little young and you’ve no experience , but seeing as no one else seems to want to work for me, I’ll take you on a trial basis.”

The boy actually quite liked working for the old woman. She was kind and soft spoken and never scolded him if he happened to break something, which sad to say was quite often. His sister pitched in with an uncharacteristic zeal which got him wondering. What was she up to?

He found out more than a week later when his sister took him aside. “The old woman seems to like you,” she whispered. “You need to play it up and get her to tell you the secret ingredient to her gingerbread.”

“Whatever for?”

“Because, you idiot, it’s the only recipe I’m lacking. I’ve figured out all the rest of them and with the gingerbread we can get rid of the old woman and take over her business.”

The boy looked at her askance.

“Don’t just stand there like a big, fat gob. Go get that recipe!”

The girl left on an errand. The boy knew exactly what to do. When the girl returned she looked at him expectantly and he nodded slightly.

“You’re brother and I just finished making up a batch of gingerbread,” the old woman said, “But I can’t seem to get the oven lit. Do you think you could give it a try?”

“Of course,” the girl said with insincere sweetness. She bent over, having to stick her head partway into the oven to get it lit. As she did so, she felt a tremendous shove from behind.

“Get the door!” she heard her brother yell. The iron door clanged shut behind her and in an instant she began to smell smoke.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

“I think this is the best batch of gingerbread yet,” the boy said to his new partner.

“Why thank you, dear,” the old woman said, beaming. “The secret is in the fuel you use for the fire.”

Walking On Sunshine

Oh, the difference a little sunshine (and a long weekend) can make.

We’ve had enough sun over the last few days – in and amongst the wind, rain, and clouds - that my solar batteries are starting to recharge. And you know what that means – my writing mojo is returning.

Of course it may look nice outside, but it’s still a little too cool for planting my gardens, so I felt no guilt whatsoever staying inside over the long weekend and getting some writing done.

I’m still working on the edits to Wandering Wizards, but I finally feel like I’m making progress. I’ve deleted two chapters worth of NaNo fluff, and added in over 5,000 new words for Jessica and Dominic. And most of that was done over the weekend.

That was the good news. The bad news is that I’ve been making these changes to a paper copy I printed out and I’m still going to have to make these changes to the electronic copy. My hope for this week is to hunker down and get the rest of the edits done by the week so I can spend the weekend making the changes.

I think it’ll be a race against time though. I still babysit for the better part of the afternoons and tonight I have Fight Club (AKA my poetry group meeting). Tomorrow morning I get to go on a trip to a farm with the granddaughter’s pre-school, and Friday the daughter leaves for a conference in Calgary so I have the pleasure of the granddaughter’s company all day.

This is also why I want to get the edits finished by the end of the weekend. The daughter will be away all week so it’ll be full time babysitting until Friday, when she returns. And once I’ve caught up to where I’ve left my intrepid band of adventurers, I can move Wandering Wizards from “Currently Editing” back to “Current Projects” where it belongs.

So let’s hear it for the sunshine that’s pulling me out of my funk!





Prompts of the Week

Prompt One
Go over to your bookshelf, close your eyes, and pick up the first book you touch. Open the book to a random page, read the first full sentence on that page, and use it as the inspiration for a story or scene. Please include the original line at the beginning or end of your response.

Prompt Two
Write a scene that involves a fairy tale trope turned on its head or otherwise deviating from typical expectations. For example: A princess who’s cruel to her kind stepmother; a golden goose that lays explosive eggs, a big, frightening wolf who really just wants a friend.

You don’t need to spend a lot of time on these, they’re just meant for fun. Take 5 minutes to think about it, then write for 10 or 15 minutes. And if it turns out you like what you’ve written, then by all means turn your exercise into an actual story. You can find these prompts, and others like them, at Writer's Digest .

Visions and Pirates

Believe it or not, I had something written to both of these prompts by the end of Tuesday, same day as I posted them. What I forgot was to type them out and schedule them to appear earlier this morning.

Oh, well. I’m only a little late, right? And they do say better late than never. LOL


Prompt One
You’re at work, like any normal day, and happen to look out the window as you head to the break room for a second cup of coffee. What you see makes you stop in your tracks. What is it?

It was fast turning into one of those days. First, I was almost late to work because the car wouldn’t start, then I was late to the meeting I’d forgotten all about. To top it off, I just couldn’t seem to wake up.

“This calls for another cup of coffee,” I muttered, getting to my feet.

“Save some for the rest of us,” my cubical mate, Sheila, said.

The break room was empty, but at least the coffee pot was full. Guess there might be hope for today after all. Or at least that’s what I thought as I went back to my desk. But then I happened to glance out the window on my way by. I stopped dead in my tracks, unable to tear my eyes away from the view.

“That’s a good way to catch flies,” Henry said as he passed by on his way to the break room.

I don’t know how long I’d been standing there with my mouth open. “Have you seen that?” I nodded towards the window.

Henry glanced towards the window and did a double take. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

In a short time Henry and I were joined by Bob, Francine, and Harold, from accounting, who had come upstairs to use our break room because their coffee maker was broken.

“For Christ’s sake Jonas,” Sheila said, coming up the hallway. “Just how long does it take to get a cup of coffee?” She didn’t appear phased by the small crowd at all.

Wordlessly, Francine pointed at the window. Sheila turned and let out a small gasp. “How did that get there?”

“I don’t know,” Harold said grimly, “But we’d better get back to work before the boss finds out.” Murmuring in agreement, we all went back to our desks.


Prompt Two
One day, while reading your favourite book on the beach, you notice a boat slowly drifting to shore. It eventually lands near your spot. A person, draped in pirate clothes, yells to you from the boat, “I have a treasure map and I need help. Are you in?”

I had saved for three years for this vacation in Cuba. This was not one of the popular resorts, it was tucked out of the way, overlooked by most tourists, which is just the way I wanted.

After three years of extra long hours in customer service, the last thing I wanted was to have people around me on my vacation.

It was early enough in the morning that only a few of the other guests at the small hotel were up. After a delicious breakfast in the dining room, I took my bag and went out to the beach.

I don’t think there’s a bad beach on the whole island. This one was a wide strip of sand bordering the curve of a bay. I was aiming for the spill of rocks leading right to the water, a few palm trees casting long shadows.

The hotel was just a spec in the distance as I spread out my blanket in the shade and dumped the contents of my bag onto it – bottles of water, sun screen, snacks, and three paperback books. Everything I’d need for the day.

I settled back with a sigh, opening up one of my favourite books. It held my attention for the better part of an hour when something made me look up and out over the water.

There was a large speck out there. I shaded my eyes with my hand and squinted, but couldn’t make out what it was. A passing ship maybe? For the next while I alternated between reading and watching the spec, which seemed to be drawing closer.

The sun was high in the sky when I abandoned all pretense of reading and stood to watch the approaching speck. It was close enough now for me to see that it was some kind of large sailboat, a rather old-fashioned one at that. And there was a man on board dressed up like some kind of pirate.

Was someone shooting a movie somewhere? Had I accidentally intruded on their set? I glanced quickly around – there were no signs posted.

“Avast, ye landlubber,” the man called when he was within shouting distance. “What land be this?”

“Cuba,” I answered, bemused. He was younger than I’d expected, but tall and lean with his dark hair pulled back from his face in a long tail. He appeared to be the only one aboard the boat.

“Cuba ye say?” He let loose a string of curses. “Damned storm blew me further off course than I thought.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Why to find me treasure, lass.” He gave me a speculative look. “Care to come along? I could use a hand.”

I glanced down at the book lying facedown on the blanket. The one with the muscular man in the billowy shirt standing on the deck of a beautiful, three-masted sailing ship. Then I looked at the boat with its raggedy sail, and its equally shabby but earnest looking pilot.

It was a no brainer.

Cartography Craziness

The mountains are on the wrong side of the planet.

At least mine are. This weekend I spread all the maps I made for the Moonstone Chronicles on the dining room table, and although there was a lot of work that went into them and they were something to be proud of, they were also wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

In the books I referred to the Shadow Mountains being in the west. Darkness is building in the west. Anakaron is holed up in the west. Well, when you’re facing north, then the west is on your left. The Shadow Mountains are on the right, making them in the east.

I thought briefly of flipping the map (or in this case multiple maps) over and tracing the outline from the back, but that’s not really going to work either. I have three big maps and a multitude of little maps. I need one map to rule them all.

See, the other problem I have with my maps is that they were created before I started working on the Chronicles. Other than Ghren and the Darkwood Forest, all the towns and cities were pretty much added in a haphazard manner, appearing just willy-nilly wherever my pen tip happened to land. And then I lost my maps when I was doing the actual writing, forgot the names of these towns (never mind where they were) and made up new ones. Ones that appear nowhere on my maps. And let’s not forget in Lucky Dog the action crosses and recrosses a river, which also does not appear on the map.

*sigh*

So what is the lesson to be learned?

When writing a fantasy series that involves a lot of traveling, a map is a very handy tool for keeping track of where your characters are and where they’re going. However, it is best to start out with a vague outline and fill in the details as you go along. Also, do them in pencil, going over them with ink when the series is done.

Someone should really write all these pearls of wisdom for writing a fantasy series down, eh?


Prompts of the Week

Prompt One
You’re at work, like any normal day, and happen to look out the window as you head to the break room for a second cup of coffee. What you see makes you stop in your tracks. What is it?

Prompt Two
One day, while reading your favourite book on the beach, you notice a boat slowly drifting to shore. It eventually lands near your spot. A person, draped in pirate clothes, yells to you from the boat, “I have a treasure map and I need help. Are you in?”

You don’t need to spend a lot of time on these, they’re just meant for fun. Take 5 minutes to think about it, then write for 10 or 15 minutes. And if it turns out you like what you’ve written, then by all means turn your exercise into an actual story. You can find these prompts, and others like them, at Writer's Digest .

Secret Rooms and Trees

I think the first of these prompt offerings is begging to be developed into a longer story. But the second one is short and sweet, and just might be included as part of a scene in the book I’m currently working on.

This makes me feel pretty good about the prompts, like I’m not wasting my time with them. A potential story and furthering something in progress – it doesn’t get much better than this.


Prompt One
You have discovered what appears to be an ordinary room. But as soon as you enter the room, time stops for you. When you leave the room, time picks up right where you left off. What do you use this room for?

They’d been living in the house for three weeks when Marissa discovered the secret room.

She hadn’t wanted to move, she’d been perfectly happy in their old house, but Doug insisted. They needed more space, he said. It was a bigger house and a better school district. And the best part, to his way of thinking, was that it was right beside his mother.

This house was old, with floors that creaked and heavy wood paneling that darkened the hallways and study. How hard would it be to remove that paneling, she wondered. She pulled gently at a corner of it under the stairs, thinking if it was already loose it should come off easily.

To her surprise, the whole panel swung open on silent hinges.

“Well! I don’t recall the realtor mentioning a room under the stairs,” she said aloud. “Maybe it’s a secret room.”

Cautiously she poked her head inside. It didn’t smell stale or musty, so she ran her hand along the inside of the wall until she found a light switch.

“Oh!”

Light flooded the room a multicoloured glass shade hanging from the ceiling. The room was larger than she expected, almost like a second study. “Only nicer,” she murmured.

Marissa glanced at her watch. It was 2:45. She had fifteen minutes before the girls would be home from school, more than enough time for a quick peek around.

The same dark paneling as the hallway lined the walls, and there was a lovely red Oriental carpet on the floor. There was a fireplace along one wall with two red velvet wing chairs in front of it. The opposite wall was one big bookcase, and off to the side was a roll top desk.

“I always wanted a roll-top desk,” she murmured.

The carpet was unmarked and there wasn’t a spec of dust on the furniture. It was as though the room had just been cleaned, waiting for her use.

She glanced at her watch again. “Damn!” It was still 2:45. Her watch must have stopped. She hurried out of the room, carefully making sure the door was secure behind her.

Marissa didn’t mention the room to anyone that night. If it was a secret room then she wanted to keep it that way – a secret.

The grandfather clock in the hallway was just ringing 10:00 when Marissa returned to the room the next morning. She had a cup of coffee with her and she was hoping to steal half an hour to read a chapter or two from the book she’d been trying to read for the past two months.

Much later, Marissa closed the book on its final chapter with a sigh. The she realized what she’d done and gave a guilty start. “I can’t believe I just did that!” She exclaimed. “It must be nearly time to get supper started.”

The clock in the hallway was just finishing its chime as she hurried by. She glanced at it, then did a double take.

“That’s not possible!”

It was still 10:00. Marissa glanced back at the panel concealing the secret room, then back at the clock. “Is it?”

Over the next several days, Marissa experimented with several different time pieces. Every one of them stopped just over the threshold to the room. Time itself stopped in the room.

“Finally,” Marissa said with a smile on her face. “Finally I’ll have some time to myself to do what I want to do.”


Prompt Two
Write a story that begins with the title of the book you’ve most recently read and ends with the name of your favourite character that you’ve written.

“In the Forests of the Heart grow trees unlike any ever seen before. Giant, like the redwoods, but filled with stories and songs. Serious, like the might oak, but with a puckish sense of humour. Twisted, like the Hawthorne, but capable of great peace and beauty. Walk among them and enter a world of utter tranquility.”

She shut the book, a pensive look on her face.

“Sounds like the afterlife to me,” he said. “Or one of them anyway.”

“You think there’s more than one?”

“I think there are as many as there are religions to believe in them.”

“Well I hope that’s not the afterlife I’m headed for. After all that time I spent in the Darkwood Forest, I’ve had more than enough of trees, thank you very much.”

Dominic grinned at her. “Then maybe you should find a different bedtime story, Jessica.”

Poem Portraits

I’ve always written poetry – sometimes a lot of it, sometimes just a line or two – but it’s always there, lurking just under my skin. And even though I haven’t been an active member in the local poetry scene over the last few years, I still keep tabs on it and enjoy taking part of the “poetry in the classroom” day at the high school.

What happen was, I went through a poetical dry spell. The part of my brain that created poetry was like a dustbowl with ideas trying to take root only to wither on the vine for lack of nourishment. I wasn’t even reading poetry, never mind writing it.

However, at the beginning of the year I started getting my poetry mojo back. While I haven’t got back to my exploration of set forms (one of my passions), I have written a few poems – not just jotting down random lines, but actual poems. I even went so far as to go to one of the local poetry readings where I met up with some of my poetry friends.

I had so much fun at the reading that I went to the meeting of my old poetry group, where I had even more fun. I even did the “poem work,” which was to write a poem with the word poem or poetry in the title. I wrote an “Ode to Poetry” where I named 70 different poetry forms. And just so you know, that’s not nearly all the forms that are out there.

While I’m not ready to dive into doing a poetry thing on a regular basis here, you might see the odd poem or two peeking out. You know, once in a while. As the mood strikes me.

In the meantime, I’d like to share this link that showed up on my Facebook feed from one of my poetry friends. It’s called Poem Portraits, the brainchild of Es Devlin. It’s an online experiment combining artificial intelligence and human intelligence to create a collective poem. To participate, you go to the website and add a word. Simple as that. Then you have the option of allowing the site access to your camera so it can create your “Word Portrait.”

The word (one of many, I might add) I chose was magical. I never use the camera on my lap top so the program couldn’t access it, so the picture at the top of this post is what you get without access. But then I had the bright idea of accessing the site with my phone. Using the same word I got the picture below as the result (and yes, I know, I take terrible selfies!).

I don’t know why my phone turned the picture blue for the selfie. A couple of other tries I made (that were even worse that this one) were yellow and pink . . . Maybe the camera in my phone was just getting tired. LOL

If you want to give it a try, the website is HERE . Go ahead, give it a shot. All it takes is one word.


Prompts of the Week

Prompt One
You have discovered what appears to be an ordinary room. But as soon as you enter the room, time stops for you. When you leave the room, time picks up right where you left off. What do you use this room for?

Prompt Two
Write a story that begins with the title of the book you’ve most recently read and ends with the name of your favourite character that you’ve written.

You don’t need to spend a lot of time on these, they’re just meant for fun. Take 5 minutes to think about it, then write for 10 or 15 minutes. And if it turns out you like what you’ve written, then by all means turn your exercise into an actual story. You can find these prompts, and others like them, at Writer's Digest .

Comas and Fortunes

No one is more surprised than me that not only did I come up with something for both prompts this week, I wrote them in one evening. Now, if only that energy could translate to my other writing. *sigh*

Prompt One
You were involved in a terrible car accident and have been in a coma for the past three months. What your family and the doctors don’t know is that you can hear everything that they say. Write the scene.

“Is it true her husband was driving the car?” a young voice asked. Probably another candy striper. There seemed to be an abundance of them in this place.

“It’s true,” a second voice answered. It sounded like Sherry. She must have pulled a day shift this week. “Walked away without a scratch.”

“Isn’t that, like, kind of suspicious?”

“Not my place to say,” Sherry said a little stiffly. “Don’t you have magazines to deliver or bedpans to clean?”

There was a sound of someone leaving the room in a huff. A few seconds later I felt a pat on my head.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Sherry said. “He won’t get away with it.” Then she left too.

Get away with what? I wondered.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew I was awakened by the sound of many voices. Oh, good. Time for the family free-for-all.

“Oh, my poor baby!” Sniff, sniff. “She doesn’t even look alive.” Sniff, sniff.

My dear mother.

“Of course she’s alive, my father said irritably. “Just look at that heart monitor.” Was he annoyed at my mother or the fact my heart was still beating?

“Why do I have to be here? I’m missing the field trip. It’s not like she can hold up her end of the conversation.” That ray of sunshine would be my sister Cathy. Such a joy.

“It’s too crowded in here.” Sherry’s voice came like a blessing from above.

“It’s all right nurse,” my father said. “We were just leaving anyway.”

It was quiet for a long time after that, then I hear footsteps. Someone was in my room – a man, judging by the smell of his cologne. A second set of footsteps joined the first and then I was forced to endure the war of the aftershaves.

“I thought you said the respirator was the only thing keeping her alive? She’s been off of it for a week now, why is she still alive?” Ah, the dulcet tones of my loving husband.

“I told you in most cases the patient will expire on their own within a few days of being taken off of their respirators.” That was my doctor, my least favourite of them anyway.

“Well what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean, what am I going to do?”

“I paid you a lot of money—”

“To keep her in a coma and take her off the respirator, which I did.”

“She was supposed to die!”

“Keep your voice down,” the doctor hissed.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just done your job right.”

“I already did more than I should. I’m done here.”

“Well what am I supposed to do? She could live for years like this.”

“Why don’t you hold a pillow over her face. I’ll put in my report she simply stopped breathing.”

“Fine. But the least you can do is keep watch.”

Seriously? This was how it was going to end for me?

“Hold it right there! You’re both under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder.”

Was that Sherry’s voice?

“I don’t understand.” That was the doctor’s voice.

“We’ve had you under surveillance for a long time, Doctor Death. I’ve been working under cover her for the last six months – I have enough evidence to put you away for life.”

“Good work, officer,” my husband began.

“Nice try, slime ball. We know what happened to your wife was no accident.”

There was the sound of more people arriving, then Sherry’s voice again.

“Take ‘em away, boys. And no need to be gentle.”

There were the usual protests from my husband and the doctor as they were led away, then all was quiet again. But I had the sense someone was still in the room.

“Don’t worry, sweetie.” Sherry patted my hand. “You’re going to make a full recovery. Maybe even in time for their trial.”

Talk about incentive for getting better!


Prompt Two
A fortune teller at the local county fair tells you two things. She tells you something good that will happen, and something awful that will happen. What are these events or incidents?

When the fortune teller told me I’d be meeting a tall, handsome strange who’d sweep me off my feet, I nearly laughed. I mean really, don’t all fortune tellers tell you that? But then three days later I met Brian, tall, handsome Brian whom I’m madly in love with.

The other part of her prediction, the one about how I’d be leaving everything behind to go to a better place, like people do when they die, completely slipped my mind until much later.

It wasn’t until I got the message on my answering machine from my doctor’s office that I suddenly remembered the second prediction. I’d gone in for a routine check up and tests, and now the doctor wanted to see me in his office.

“Babe,” Brian said when he came home that night. “Where are you? We have something important to discuss.”

He followed the sound of my sniffles to the living room. Whatever he was going to tell me was forgotten as he held me in his arms and I poured my heart out to him.

“What if it’s cancer?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“Whatever it is, we’ll give it a good fight. I just found you, I’m not going to let you go that easily.”

He came with me to the doctor’s office the next day. We sat there holding hands as the doctor swept in.

“Look at you two,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “Who died?”

I flinched . Brian tightened his hold on my hand.

“Just cut to the chase, Doc,” Brian said.

“Fine, fine. That cough you’ve had is a little more serious than we thought. It’s that lung problem you were treated for when you were little.”

“But I thought you said I’d be fine as long as I took care of myself during damp weather.”

“Yes, but that was 15 years ago. We’ve had a series of cold, damp winters and high humidity in the summer. And it’s starting to take its toll on your health.”

“What can we do?” Brian asked when I couldn’t speak.

“You really need to spend some time in a drier climate. Move there if you can.”

“Move?” I squeaked out.

“I know it means leaving everything behind – friends, family, job – but you’ll be in a better place for your health.”

“A better place?” I repeated weakly. I turned to look at Brian. “Why do you look so happy?”

“My company offered me a promotion, but it would mean moving to Arizona.”

“Arizona would be perfect,” the doctor beamed.

“I’ve always wanted to live in the desert,” I told Brian with a smile.

“And it’ll be a great place to raise the baby,” the doctor added.

“Baby?” we chorused, looking at him in shock. “What baby?”

The doctor just smiled.