Fiction Friday: Lost

The cup of coffee crashed to the ground with a shatter and a splash. She had done it again.  She looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, forgetting that the only other soul in the tiny apartment was her cat. She stared at the broken ceramic pieces that spanned from one end of the galley kitchen to the other, spraying out onto the living room carpet. She held her left hand close to her body, caressing it with her right, as if it would help.

Tears glided gently down her cheeks like the dew on an autumn leaf as she took in this morning’s damage. The last bit of coffee in her barren cabinets was now forming small brown puddles on her kitchen floor. Ben’s favorite coffee mug broken into a thousand tiny pieces, crumbs of colorful ceramic. Her left palm swollen and red from the burn, her fingertips blistering, as her right hand moved to clutch her wrist, isolating the pain from the rest of her body.

As if it would help.

In slow motion she reached into the fridge for a half bag of open corn from the freezer, hoping to cool the burning sensation in her palm. Her heart started racing. He mind dulled. She wanted the pain to disappear. She shuffled out of the kitchen, ignoring the debris on the floor, and sat down on her couch, corn spilling out into the cushion to her right. She looked at her hand. What had she been thinking?

Ben used to make her coffee in the morning.  They had one of those 12 cup pots that made mass quantities of liquid caffeine for the two of them. In any given day, they’d brew at least 2 pots. These days, Karen was lucky to heat one cup of instant coffee in the microwave. And now she was also out of coffee. She knew that there was a crack in the ceramic. But she couldn’t get rid of his mug.

The phone rang and Karen glared at it like an enemy crossing into her territory. In her mind, she kept willing it to hush itself, and in the end, she won. Her mother. Probably. Or her sister. The two of them tried to keep tabs on Karen. But it wasn’t easy. She never answered the phone, and avoided unlocking the door to her apartment on most days.

She wasn’t always like this, though.

Karen used to be bright and shiny. She used to smile. She would drop a scalding hot cup of coffee and clean it up immediately. Her cabinets were full of tasty treats and snacks for surprise guests. Her fridge stocked fresh fruits and vegetables. She did things. She did something. But over the course of time, things drooped. It didn’t happen over night. It was a gradual thing. A gray sky here, a few tears there. No big deal. Until it was a big deal. 

And she didn’t even know it was happening. 

Ben used to try to help. He offered a shoulder to cry on. He made her coffee. He brought her food, even when she wasn’t hungry. He hovered. And she didn’t mind. Because she knew he cared.

Karen looked down at her hand again. The blisters were red and raw. Only a few kernels of corn remained in the bag. Her hand was throbbing, though she wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold of the corn of the sting of the blisters. She dragged herself up and off the couch, walking blindly to the bathroom. She turned on the dimmed light and saw a lipstick note in big red script.

“Depression Lies. Depression Lies. Depression Lies.”

Karen closed her eyes. She squeezed them as tight as she could. And when she reopened them, she screamed as loud as she could, “THEN WHY DO I BELIEVE?!”

Why do I believe that nothing will get better? Why do I believe that I’m alone? Forever? Why do I believe that there’s nothing left? Why do I feel so lost?

And then she cried again.

This post is a part of Fiction Friday Friends and if you’re looking for more fiction, go visit these talented writers!

Fiction Friday June


Blog friends, have you ever struggled with depression?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Fiction Friday: The Power of a Child

This is the next in a series of short fiction pieces that all mesh together. Feel free to catch up with the previous installments or start here.

  1. Broken
  2. The Failure
  3. The Letters
  4. The Rock
  5. Wandering Thoughts
  6. Just Coffee

The Power of a Child

“I…have…to…I have to go, Jack. I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry.” Those words cut like a knife to his heart. She was leaving. She was just. Fucking. Leaving. She climbed into the car and drove away. Jack didn’t know if he’d ever see Mel again. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to call her. To tell her that his heart was breaking. To tell her how his best friend just…vanished.

He had planned to kiss her. He was going to ask her to prom. And he knew he would say yes. They were like two peas in a pod. He was going to tell her he loved her. That he had always loved her. That he wanted to be with her. She was the one.

But she was gone.

He stood there. For a minute? An hour? A day? He couldn’t be sure. At some point he stumbled home, and crashed onto his bed, alone with his thoughts. I’m all alone. Alone in the world. No friends. No Mel. No one. I’m worthless. I’ll never find anyone else. Fuck this shit.

A bleak future paraded itself through Jack’s mind for days? hours? weeks? The thoughts proceeded to get darker and deeper, until those same worries, doubts, and fears became dangerous. Terrifying. A vision of a kitchen knife flashed in his eyes. The gun in his father’s safe. He could see it so clearly. An option. A way out. The idea laid itself out in his mind, so perfectly, that he could feel its potential release.

Jack opened his eyes, and for the first time, noticed his six-year-old sister, Leah, standing over him, gazing nervously.


He looked at her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look okay. You look sad. Do you want to watch Tangled? That makes me happy.”

He looked at Leah, with a half grimace, pulled her into his chest and hugged her. Jack took in the scent of his baby sister. Felt her warmth. Soaked up her love for him. Without question. Without knowing. Just. Love.


“Jackie, are you crying?” The sound of the little girl, her concern so blatant, brought him back to reality. He pulled away from her. Looked down at the little raggedy doll in her tiny hand. Gazed into her big blue eyes. Jack saw the fear. The worry. He knew that he needed this little girl more than ever before.

“Leah, can you get mom? Now?” She looked at him, as if she were trying to see what he was thinking, but not quite sure what to do with what she saw.

“OK.” The girl hopped off the bed and ran out of the room, shouting, “Mooooooom!!!!! Jackie needs you!”


“Good morning, Jack. This is our fifteenth session. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

“Because I have had thoughts of taking my own life.”

“Good. And can you tell me the last time you had suicidal thoughts.”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Was that in our session?”


“Do you remember what we talked about?”


“And did we talk about her the whole time?”

“No. We also talked about Leah. And my family. And how I was not alone in this.”

“That’s right, Jack. And is Melanie the reason for your thoughts?”

“No. She was a catalyst.”

“Her actions were a catalyst, Jack. Her actions.”

“Right. Her actions.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“I’m okay. Leah is in a school play today. I’m going to see it with my parents. They’re doing some musical play about a tiny Christmas tree. Then I’m going to meet my cousin Steve for lunch. I’ve got a full plate, and I’m looking forward to the day.”

“That’s great, Jack. Tell me again about the decision to ask for help.”

“Leah. I didn’t want her to lose her brother. She just kept looking at me with those big eyes. Like I mattered. She cares so much. She’s so young. And innocent. Melanie used to be like that when I met her. Sweet. Caring. I don’t know what happened to her. She makes me so fucking angry. Whenever I start thinking about her. I know I’m not alone, but she makes me want to scream. I can’t stop thinking about how pissed off I am. She left, like a fucking bitch. A scared little brat, who didn’t have the nerve to tell me what the hell was going on.”

“Jack. We were talking about Leah.”

“Oh. Right. Leah.”


Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales

The Fiction Prompt

The Ides of March — Your character is betrayed, hardcore, by a friend. The relationship is forever altered, “killing” a little piece inside, of our protagonist, yet empowering her/him despite the damage.Imagery, dialogue, movement…800-1500 words.

Go read some of my friends, the Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales and their blogging/writing/fiction/awesomeness.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Fiction Friday: Just Coffee

Greetings Blog Friends! I’ve got a lot to tell you about meeting The Bloggess…but you’ll have to wait until next week, because today is Fiction Friday! Enjoy!

Oh right…if you’re new…you can catch up here:

  1. Broken
  2. The Failure
  3. The Letters
  4. The Rock
  5. Wandering Thoughts

Just Coffee

Coffee. It’s just coffee. Jack kept repeating this to himself, as he nervously stepped into the coffee shop. Coffee. 20 minutes. You don’t have to be here. You’re in control. It’s just coffee.

Jack peered around the cafe, looking for her. Scanning the whole of the place, he finally spotted her sipping a cup of something in the corner. Her hair was shorter now, her facial features more defined. Melanie Jane McDaniels. All grown up. Her feet tucked under her body, she shifted uneasily in the chair as she recognized him. She stood, and he could see the swell of her unborn child. Jack shuffled his way to her, his heart racing, palms sweating, head pounding…anxiety. Coffee. It’s just coffee.

They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. Coffee, dumbass. Go get coffee. Wait. Say hi first.

“Hi.” Dammit. She beat me to it.

“Hi.” He leaned into her…not sure whether hugging her was appropriate. She stepped awkwardly toward him, into the hug. They both wrapped their arms upward, knocking into each other, before settling into a strangely comfortable hug. And just like that, the tension disappeared. The hug became more natural. Melanie melted into Jack. He closed his eyes and remembered, breathing in her scent.

“I missed you, Jack.”

“I’m…going to go grab coffee. I’ll be right back.” He pulled away from her. Get it under control. Coffee. I need coffee.

He returned to the nook she was sitting in, two couches perpendicular to each other. He sat down on the empty couch. She was curled into the corner facing him

“Jack, I’m so sorry. For everything. I know that I can’t go back and change things…but I truly missed you. For so long. It’s been…crazy.”

“I’m married.” He blurted out. Like she didn’t already know.

“I know. I’m so happy for you. Tell me about her.” Melanie was shaking. He could see it when she held the cup to her lips. It was wavering uncontrollably.

“She’s amazing, Mel. She’s a breath of fresh air. She’s everything. Her name is Claire. She… She’s beautiful. A doctor. A pediatrician, actually. She’s so smart, Mel. I could listen to her talk about new technologies and science for days.”

Melanie smiled, “She sounds wonderful. I’d love to meet her.”

“You should.”

“So you’re a doctor, too?”

“A nurse, actually. When Mom got sick, her nurses interacted with her so much more than the doctors. I admired them. Their patience. Their kindness. They knew the whole family, and made sure that we knew what was going. There was this one nurse, the only male nurse in the bunch, and he always made me laugh. It was like it was his job or something to make me smile.

One day, I asked him why he became a nurse and not a doctor. He told me that it was the path he was meant to take. And I knew that it was the path I was meant to take, too. If that makes sense.”


“What about you? I mean, I’ve been rambling about my life…I haven’t really heard anything about your life.”

“I got into restaurant management. I love it. I love my staff and the food. Oh, God, Jack the food is amazing. My chef is a culinary genius. You should come visit sometime. With Claire. The city is beautiful in the fall…I’d really like that, actually.”

“That would be…nice.”

The conversation seemed easier than he thought it would be…but the elephant in the room was staring right at them. Should I mention it? How would I bring it up? Should I…? No.

It’s just coffee.


Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales

That’s all for this week! If you’re jonesin’ for more fiction, check out my companions in the Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales. Some have written fiction today, and others have not, but they are all excellent writers, so check them out!

The Fiction Prompt

Our metaphorical spring is coming ever closer although things / conditions are still mostly dormant. The theme this week is: Recovery. The “ice” has thawed a bit, revealing your character’s recovery of a memory; or s/he has recovered (this is not sought, it just appears, like a plant poking through the hard, cold earth) something that was once lost; or experiences an old habit in a new way? Better? Good? You decide. Oh: mostly dialogue.

Today’s Blog Post is Dedicated to…

Molly Field of Grass Oil

Lily digitally introduced me to Molly and soon after, I joined her crew of Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales. Not only is Molly an incredibly talented blogger, writer, and creative, she’s a wonderfully inspiring human being. She gave up Facebook and Twitter for Lent (don’t worry, I informed her that Sundays don’t count in Lent, so she can check in for Fiction Friday updates on Sundays.) She’s documenting the journey on her blog, and she’s just overall awesome. So go visit Molly.

Tell me Blog Friends, What do you want to see happening with Jack and Mel?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Fiction Friday: Wandering Thoughts

I apologize profusely for skipping out on Fiction last week. Things were a little on the crazy side, so I thought something fun and lighthearted would be appreciated in the spirit of creative writing.

In case you don’t remember, I’ve been writing fiction since January, with the Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales, and each week, we’re given a prompt. The last two pieces I wrote were for Project Fairy Tale, and so they were two parts of my own Rumpelstiltskin story. Prior to that, I had been weaving a web of drama with Jack and Mel and Claire. These are short blurbs of fiction, so if you’d like to catch up, I’ve listed the pieces below.

  1. Broken
  2. The Failure
  3. The Letters
  4. The Rock

Wandering Thoughts

Giddy. That was the only way that she could describe her feelings when she was around him.  At first. Ben was a breath of fresh air after a long hot drought. He was smart, funny, and incredibly gorgeous. Mel could barely remember how it started. She just knew that she was glad it had. Their relationship had progressed rapidly. After a series of non-dates, they became inseparable. She knew that this was it. He was the guy.

They weren’t living together, but he spent 5-6 nights a week in her apartment on Lake Avenue. He had certainly marked his territory. She looked around the bedroom, noting some of his clothes hanging in her closet, his toothbrush peeking on the sink peeking out the bathroom door, his guitar on the chaise by the window, and finally landed her gaze on him, asleep in her bed. Yep, he’s definitely made his mark. She leaned down and kissed his sleeping forehead. I think he loves me.


Mel sat in her living room, waiting for Ben. He had said he was closing his restaurant, but he would stop by to see her after. At midnight, she started to get that panicky feeling. Why hasn’t he called? The restaurant closed at 10. He should be here by now. She glared at the clock as the minutes ticked by. The background noise of the TV could not distract her from the wandering thoughts.

He used to bring me flowers. He used to compliment me and tell me I was beautiful. We used to go out… He used to call me when he would be just a few minutes late. Now he’s…

She started to think about it and scolded herself internally, You’re beyond that part of a relationship, MEL. This is what happens. It’s not as magical. It’s life. Life’s not a fucking fairy tale. He’ll bring you flowers for special occasions, just not to “woo” you. He’s already got you. You’re his.

Right. Right. She tried to agree with herself, but she just kept wondering, what if he wants to leave me? What if he’s cheating on me? What if something happens?

MELANIE JANE MCDANIELS. She screamed at the thoughts deep in her mind. Relax. You always over-analyze EVERYTHING. It’s because you love him. You’re afraid that if you love him, he’ll leave you. RE-fucking-LAX. Do you want to live alone for the rest of your life? No friends. No love. Completely alone? Maybe a few cats? Just go with it.

Mel texted him, asking what his ETA was. 20 minutes later, he responded, “I’m on my way, Cupcake.” Her heart lifted. She knew it was silly, but she loved that he called her, Cupcake. The way it rolled off his tongue made her melt, and even though it was a text, Mel could hear the sound of it in her mind. She stared at the phone, then at the clock, then the door. He’ll be here. He loves me too. It’ll be great.


I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to start over. I love him. I love Ben. I do. And he loves me. Mel’s thoughts were starting to sound less and less convincing, even to herself. He loves me. I’ll never find someone else who loves me like Ben does.

The internal argument began again, But does he really love you? You work a few blocks away from each other. You live in the same city. And yet, you only see him a couple nights a week?

We’re both busy. We have restaurants to run. He texts me. He calls me. We talk.

Yeah, for like 5 minutes.

“Stop it!” She found herself yelling out loud, her assistant manager staring at her blankly. Suddenly, she was back at work, cell phone in hand, staring at it.

“You okay, boss?”

“I’m fine, Jessica. Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just mean…um…stop…um…”

Jessica looked at her strangely. “Maybe you should go splash some cool water on your face. You look like you’re about to cry.” Jess was the closest thing she had to a friend here, other than Ben. But she was her employee…so Mel had trouble confiding in her.

“Thanks, I think I will.” Mel made her way to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Black splotches under her reddened eyes. She barely recognized herself. She turned the faucet on and pushed the cool water into her face. Draining. Ben is draining me. Maybe I should…

No. Stop. He loves you. You love him. You do. Remember what dating was like? You’re never going to find someone like Ben. You understand him. He loves that about you. He’s handsome and smart. The other day, remember? Oh! What did he do? It was so funny. He makes you laugh. He makes you happy.

Yeah, when he’s around. If only he would just…call me. I just need to see him. That’s it. It’ll all be okay if I just see him. Maybe he’ll come over tonight. Jess is closing the restaurant, so I can go home…shower…get ready…maybe I’ll surprise him.

Keep telling yourself that. See where it gets you. Maybe you should go buy the first cat now. After drying her face, she looked at herself once more in the mirror. She put on a big fake smile, and walked out the bathroom door.

When she returned to the hostess stand, her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the incoming text. “Sneak away with me for dinner, Cupcake?” A smile spread across her face. See, self, he still loves me.


Fearless Fiction Femmes FatalesNow go on and check out my partners in crime, the Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales. Some are writing fiction this week. Some are taking a break. But all are worth your time. Go visit their blogs! And PLEASE take a moment to visit DeBie Hive, because she’s posting about cutting her hair off for cancer. And as we all know, cancer sucks.

The Fiction Writing Prompt

Stuck in a Rut
March is green, but winter still comprises 2/3 of the month. Spring is not until the tail end. So this prompt ensures our character is stuck in a (metaphorical or literal, you decide) muddy rut: frozen in a place that despite all his/her inner urgings, s/he can’t move forward or look backward.


Shameless Plug: Please go and vote for the Bloggies (fancy People’s Choice Style Blog Awards)! I’m a finalist (Along with my blog friends, Katie from Words for Worms, Joules from Pocketful of Joules, and April from First Time Mom and Dad).

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Fiction Friday & Project Fairytale: The Thrilling Conclusion…Assistant

Project Fairy Tale

Another day in February—Another Project Fairytale Post. Thanks to The Cheap Reader, I’ve been writing about Rumpelstiltskin throughout the month. Beginning with my discussion of the original Rumpelstiltskin tale and moving along to my review of the less-than-stellar book, The Crimson Thread, and topped off with a little retelling of my own…I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve this month, so get excited.

Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales

Another Friday—Another Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales Post. Next week, we’ll be returning to the stories of Jack, Claire, and Mel, but I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief trip into fairytale theater…I’ve got a few more of these in the works…you’ll just have to wait and see what happens.

I know that you’ve all been chomping at the bit for the conclusion to Assistant, which I posted last week.

The Assistant

Janine blinked. When she opened her eyes, there was no one at the window. Impossible. Absolutely impossible, she thought to herself. She looked over at Mark, who was snoring loudly, and then she looked down at her pregnant belly. Her heart started racing. A feeling of panic washed over her entire body. Her stomach turned into a million tiny knots. No. It was just a joke. She tried to change her thoughts, listing all of the positive things that this baby would bring them…but something wiggling inside of her kept sending Janine into panic mode. After an hour of thinking, crying, and attempting to sleep, Janine finally got out of bed. The panic feeling had gone, and she made her way to the kitchen.

The panic hit her again. The same feeling of no control, heart racing, stomach churning, full-fledged panic. If I believe that I am indebted to Mr. S in any way, why would he want my child? Seriously, Janine! Get a hold of yourself! You’re freaking out and you don’t even know why. Yelling at herself ebbed the panic, and Janine made breakfast. As she sat down, the panic set in again. The same feeling over. And over. And over again. A storm of emotions shot tears down her face. She quickly pushed her plate away. She raced to the bathroom and retched until there was nothing left inside her.

For a moment, Janine felt calmer. She walked back to the kitchen, picked up her full plate, and dumped the contents into the garbage. Soon after, Mark sauntered into the kitchen, took one look at her pale green face, and immediately blamed the child inside of her. She had mentioned her feelings about Mr. S once, before she was dismissed for being “crazy” and “female.” Mr. S had made them a lot of money. Mr. S had made himself a lot of money. Well, Janine and Mark had played an integral role in his financial plan, even though he was still incredibly secretive about the business.

Janine and Mark were offered information on a need-to-know basis…If they didn’t need to know, Mr. S held it locked tighter than a bank vault. Janine often found herself questioning his methods and motives, but Mark repeatedly brushed her suggestions off. He was driven by the desire to possess expensive things and live a life of luxury. Janine believed that there was more to life than stuff, but she loved Mark… It was just one of those niggling feelings that Mr. S was making money appear out of…thin air. Spinning gold from straw, as the saying goes.


Soon, Mark and Janine became parents to a beautiful baby girl, Rebecca, with rosy cheeks and golden flecks in her green eyes. She was everything they could have hoped for. Sure, she cried at night, keeping both Janine and Mark awake until the early hours of the morning, but she was theirs and they loved her. Rebecca sparked something in Mark that changed him, just a little. He was more gentle, more cautious than he ever used to be, and Janine loved the baby even more for that.

Janine still panicked, though not as often. Frazzled by a new baby, she didn’t have much time to worry about silly nightmares. After waking up to the hungry cries of her 2 month old baby one morning, she found herself thinking about her dreams…and she couldn’t remember any recent dreams… Come to think of it, I haven’t had the nightmare since she was born. This thought sent Janine into a whole new realm of panic. She hadn’t thought about the nightmare or Mr. S in months. She had been so busy with the child and of course, was on maternity leave from the company, so she hadn’t given him a second thought. Mr. S had sent a gift for the child, a snowy white blanket with the name Rebecca in gold embroidery, but he had not come to visit her.

There were times when Janine was feeding the baby that she felt like she was being watched, but there was no balcony outside her child’s room.  There was no one at the window, and there certainly was no one else in the house. Mark was truly wonderful during the first few months of Rebecca’s life. He worked hard at the company, and came home at night, spending all of his free time with the two ladies of his life.


One afternoon, late in the summer, when Rebecca was just 6 months old, Mr. S paid Rebecca and Janine a visit. He arrived early, greeting Janine with a warm, “Darling girl! It has been far too long!” His formality combined with warmth never ceased to surprise her, and immediately, her heart started pounding. Her mind began to race, her stomach overturned itself several times, and Janine imagined herself curling up into a little ball in the corner. Doing her very best to push through it, Janine faked a smile and welcomed Mr. S to her home.

Think positive thoughts. Janine! Get your shit together! Right. Now. Think positive thoughts. Stop worrying. This is just a response to your dream. This is just a response to your dream.

She repeated it to herself many times before the feeling calmed, all the while, Mr. S patiently observed Janine’s demeanor. “Are you alright, darling girl? You look like you might cry…”

Taking a deep breath, Janine responded, “I’m fine, Mr. S. It’s so good to see you. How is everything with the company?”

“Oh wonderful, wonderful.” He seemed…distracted, as well. “I’d love to meet young Miss Rebecca this afternoon, if it wouldn’t be any trouble.” He looked at her anticipating her answer.

“Oh, yes! Of course.” Janine felt slightly uncomfortable, but couldn’t think of a reason not to introduce a man she’s known her entire life to her child. She truly doubted that anything unusual would happen. After just 10 minutes the panic had completely subsided.

pink baby room

Source: TopRooms

She led the way to Rebecca’s room, and Mr. S complimented Janine on the child’s room. The pink and white room, with gold accents was classic and stunning. Janine had worked incredibly hard to ensure that it was exactly what she had envisioned without being over-the-top. She took the compliment kindly.

Mr. S noted the embroidered blanket that he had sent, and said it looked lovely in the room.

“It was really amazing, we received it and it just felt like it belonged in this room all along. Thank you so much for the beautiful gift.”

“Oh, anytime, darling girl, anytime…” he paused, before coming up to the child asleep in her crib. “So this is the beautiful Miss Rebecca.” A crooked smile spread across his face, making Janine cringe just a little. “May I hold her.”

“Well, she’s sleeping…” she drifted off as the look on his face showed her that it wasn’t a question. She shifted her stance to a more defensive pose as she added,”But we can wake her, of course. Let me pick her up for you.” Janine rushed to the child’s crib and reached in gently. She lifted her and handed Rebecca to Mr. S, as he carefully accepted her in his arms. He was a natural at holding the babe, who didn’t even wake. Janine looked at him closely, and saw faint hints of something…love? Tenderness? Longing?

After a half hour of small talk and holding the baby, Janine could not think of anything else to say to Mr. S. The awkward silence fell between them like a gate closing quickly and unexpectedly. He handed the baby back to her haphazardly, stating that he needed to return to the office to handle some paperwork. “I’ll see myself out, darling girl.” He looked once more at the baby. “Oh! One more thing…I’ve got to go away for a while…Mark will be receiving full  ownership of the company this week. Thank you, darling girl,” He looked back at the baby, “For everything.”


The next morning, Janine woke up to the sound of her own screams. She had dreamed the nightmare again. She looked to the window, but there was no one there. She jumped out of bed, and ran to Rebecca’s room, expecting to pick up and snuggle her child. But Rebecca was gone!

Mark woke to a bloodcurdling scream and raced into the room. “She’s…gone…” Rebecca whispered from the curled up ball next to the crib. “He took her.”

Janine was hyperventilating and Mark almost didn’t know what to do. He finally grabbed a phone to call 911 and explained that their child was missing. Then he dropped to Janine and folded around her, “We’ll find her. We will find our daughter.”

The police immediately assumed that the child would be put up for ransom, and set up a small headquarters in the large home. Half of the team was out searching for the kidnapper, while the other half waited.

For Janine, the whole thing was a blur of interrogation, doubt, and accusations.

“Who is this Mr. S? What is HIS NAME?”

“Was he even real?”

“Who could have wanted to hurt you?”

“Were there any regular staff members with keys?”

“You entered into a business arrangement with a man whose name you didn’t even know?”

“What makes you think that your child was kidnapped by someone who has done nothing but help you?”

“A nightmare? It’s all based on a dream?”

“Are you crazy?”

“Maybe we should have you talk to a specialist.”


A few days later, with a team of police detectives standing watch on the house, waiting for a ransom call, a certified letter was delivered to say that Mark had always been the sole owner of the company. There was no record of Mr. S ever existing at the company.

Janine, who was alone in a hospital bed while her husband stood watch with the police, kept replaying Mark’s words in her head, We’ll find her…

But they never did.


What do you think? I’m considering writing a series of fairy tale re-tellings, much like this. Would you be interested in reading more?

So now, it’s time for you to go check out The Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales (whether or not they wrote fiction for today!):

The Fiction Writing Prompt

FIciton prompt belief + art = sanity

A photo prompt instead of a written prompt. This art is the inspiration for today’s fiction.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Fiction Friday Meets Project Fairy Tale: Assistant

For those of you who have been following the story of Jack, Mel, and Clare, I promise that I’m not finished with them. I’m taking a brief break from those poor souls to entertain something completely different, to compose a fiction piece for Project Fairy Tale. As you may remember, my Fairy Tale of Choice was Rumpelstiltskin. So I’ve composed a piece of my own interpretation. This is a two part story, which is continued in Assistant Part 2. I hope that you enjoy it.

Project Fairy Tale


Janine Miller woke up in a cold sweat. A memory. A dream. She couldn’t remember which. He was a short, squat little man with a crooked nose and stringy hair. He almost looked like a beggar on the street, but she knew better. He helped her once. Or thrice. In the dream. In the past. She couldn’t remember which.

It was always the same dream. It seemed so long, but it flew so fast…


He had been there. At the house on Marsh Street. He was sitting outside on the porch, beckoning the crying, sniffling mess that she was. She wasn’t sure why she went to him, but she did. “Darling girl!” he said to her without ceremony, “Why ARE you crying so damn much? Every day, you walk past this house in tears. I’ve seen you. It’s sad. Let me help.”

Something about the way he looked at her, regardless of his dingy appearance or his sneaky smile, drew her in deeper. She found herself wanting to tell him her story. And somehow it all came out so fast, she didn’t even realize that she had told him her life story in the blink of an eye.

“I’ve lived in this town my whole life. Mom, Dad, and me. I was a great student; I worked hard. My parents always said that I could be whatever I want. Do whatever I want you know…when I grew up. My mother…*sniff*…passed away last month. It’s just my father and I now. I’m supposed to go to college next month…but Dad says we don’t have the money. Mom didn’t know any of this. And she encouraged me. But Dad…*sniff*…he doesn’t understand. I have so many dreams. To get out of her. To go somewhere big. Chicago. New York. LA. I don’t care where as long as it’s not here. And he says that I have to get a job or he’ll lose the house. And I just don’t know what to do.”

“Darling girl,” he responded to the tearful teen with a wicked gleam, “If you will spend the next month and all of your summer holidays working for me, I will ensure that you can go to school and your father will not lose his home.”

She lifted her reddened eyes to meet his, and asked “But why would you do that?”

“Oh, I need a little help every now and then.” He giggled a dark and devious laugh that sent shivers down her spine. Janine felt compelled to say yes, though she was unsure why.

“OK. I’ll do it.”

The house on Marsh Street became her office. She worked morning, noon, and night to sort through his paperwork. He was some type of financial adviser, but she couldn’t be sure what. He kept most of his information locked away, and only gave her snippets. The snippets that she needed to do her job. Filing. Documentation. Typing. Research. Most of the time, it didn’t make sense, but she was promised her education and her father’s home. So she didn’t dare ask.

Mr. S (he never told her more than that) was, overall, a pretty decent boss. Sure, she worked harder than she ever had in her life, but he was kind to her. He always ordered meals for her from local restaurants, and allowed her to take the leftovers home to her father.

When the summer ended, she went to the least expensive of the schools she was accepted into, with loans and a little assistance from Mr. S. Her father kept the house. Every summer, she came home. Every summer she worked for Mr. S. Their agreement worked out well for all parties involved.

Janine graduated with a degree in English, and was offered a position with a small marketing company in Chicago. Mr. S congratulated her on a job well done with a gift, a beautiful leather watch. On the back of the watch he had engraved, “I’ll always be here to help.”

Regardless of their successful business relationship, Janine always felt a little uncomfortable around him. But at the same time, she felt a twisted affection for him that unnerved her.


A few years later, Janine found herself longing for a home. Bank after bank turned her down because of some financial mistakes she had made right after college. She went home to her father’s house and told him her story on the front porch. Mr. S had heard she was in town and found himself listening in on the conversation before announcing his presence.

“Janine!” he cried. “Darling girl! I overheard this sad story as I was walking up. I heard that you were here, and I wanted to say hello. How can I be of assistance?”

“Oh Mr. S, there’s nothing you can do to help. I’ll be alright. I’ve just started a new job and I’m doing really well at this new company. It’s only a matter of time before I get a promotion. The company is expanding rapidly. I’m really excited.”

“Janine, let me help you. I only ask for one tiny thing in return. The company you’re working for, Dexon Marketing? Can you get me a meeting with the owner?”

“How would you help me?”

“Oh, I know a few bankers in the city that could help you out. Make sure you got one of those first time buyers’ loans. It’s easy. I know that you’ve got a decent savings account and your credit has been clear for a couple of years now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Darling girl! I know everything!” There was that wicked grin again. But somehow she was compelled to say yes. After all, it was just a meeting.


Several years passed, and Janine was living in her townhouse west of Chicago when she finally fell in love. The man himself was wonderful. He was kind and caring. Generous. Loving. Patient. He was everything to her. He loved her. He loved her father. And he was loved in return.

She had not seen or heard of Mr. S since the day he came in to meet with her boss. She hadn’t seen him, but she knew he had come in. Janine had no clue what had transpired in the meeting, but she was pleased that he came through in helping her get a loan.

One day while walking her dog, Pip, she bumped into a short man with stringy hair and a crooked nose. She recognized him immediately. For the first time in years, she was not crying when he came to her.

“Janine! Darling girl! You love ravishing!” His words sent a cold shiver down her back. He embraced her and kissed her on the cheek as if they were old friends. “And who is this?” He bent down to pet Pip, but was received with a startling growl. He shrugged it off, “Can’t win ’em all!”

Somehow he weaseled an invitation to dinner with Janine and her soon-to-be-husband, Mark Prince. She managed to skirt around inviting him to her home, and instead suggested a local restaurant.

It was at this restaurant that Mr. S made a proposal that blew both of their minds. “I’m starting a business. I’d like you both to get in at the ground floor. The proposed profits are in the millions within the first 5 years. It’s a fail-proof plan. One I’ve been working on for 23 years. Mark, you’ll need to be the forerunner, the face of my company. No one would give this mug a second look,” he explained pointing to his face.

Mark looked intrigued, but Janine spoke logically, “We don’t have that kind of money, Mr. S.”  Mark looked back at her with disdain. The idea of millions in his pocket seemed…worth a second thought.

“Darling girl! When has money ever been an issue with me? I need your help. Your smarts, your talent, your future husband’s delightfully handsome face. And you, know if you really feel like you should give me something, I’m sure your first born child would suffice…” They all laughed. And then she woke up.

That was the moment that stuck with her. The moment that woke her up in a cold sweat every night. Was it a dream? Was it a memory? They lived in a huge house in the North Shore. They had everything they ever dreamed of. And she was pregnant.

She sat up in bed, and looked up to see Mr. S peering in her window.


Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales

I hope that I’ve done this story justice. It will conclude next week in Assistant Part 2, and then we’ll return to Jack, Clare, and Mel. If you’re jonesin’ for more fiction, go visit my fiction writing friends, The Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales (whether or not they wrote fiction for today!):

The Fiction Writing Prompt

Your character is drowsy, just about to drift off to sleep only to be roused because s/he spontaneously remembered an intense moment from his/her past with another love? It keeps her/him up all night, distracted the next day.


Nominate Quirky Chrissy for a social media award in the Shorty Awards!Nominate Quirky Chrissy for a social media award in the Shorty Awards
Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

The Rock

This is a continuation of a fiction story. You can find the first parts here:


The Failure

The Letters

Those eyes. Those chocolate brown eyes. With gold flecks. And lashes that went on for days. He couldn’t help but think about those eyes seeing through him. Do they know? Can she read me like an open book? Does she know that I am not strong? What would she do if she knew. If those eyes could speak. The volumes they could write. She smiled at him. Her eyes lit up more brightly than the Florida sun. He didn’t think that her eyes could look any brighter…until he saw her smile. Her full, naturally pink lips extended from one blushing cheek to the next,  with a dimple on the left side (but somehow not the right). God, she’s beautiful.

“I love you.” The words came out as a whisper that hit him like a ton of bricks. He thought he was smiling, but he couldn’t be sure. His breath quickened. Did she just…does she expect me…? What do I do? Seconds seemed like hours. He almost said nothing…he wanted to say nothing. She didn’t look at him expectantly. She looked away, embarrassed, her cheeks emblazoned with bright red clouds. She hadn’t expected to say the words. He worried for her. But he wasn’t…he didn’t…know.

“I don’t know what love is.” Crap! That is the last thing I should have said to her. What the fuck was I thinking.He envisioned her walking away, out of his life forever.What the hell, Jack? Are you a moron? This girl just fucking said she loved you. This beautiful woman, who you’ve fooled into loving you…and you don’t know what love is? Jack chided himself for his error. In his effort to say something, it seemed he always said the wrong something.

She looked at him with sadness in her eyes, touched his cheek,  and responded, “Yes, you do. When you’re ready, you’ll tell me. I don’t expect you to say it. I don’twant you to say it now. If you said it now, the meaning would be lost. When you’re ready, you’ll know.” She pulled him into her, kissing him gently. He wrapped his arms around her and it was at that moment that he knew he loved Claire, but couldn’t say it. Not yet.

“Claire, I love you so much. Will you marry me?” It wasn’t an elaborate proposal by any stretch of the imagination. He didn’t take her on some fancy trip, or make some huge crazy gesture. It wasn’t one of those obnoxious public proposals that Claire silently judged people for. It was perfect. They were at home. Just the two of them. He didn’t even have a ring. He just did it. And she said yes. Of course, she said yes.

Claire started crying, and Jack wondered if it wasn’t the typical sort of engagement crying. It’s because I don’t have a ring. And I didn’t do anything particularly special. It just…came out…I’m so stupid! What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. That’s the trouble with you, Jackie, you don’t think. Claire deserves more than that. More than you.

“Claire, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You sob didn’t.” She stared down, breathing heavily between sobs. The tears slid down her cheek, dripped onto her tee shirt, and left small wet splotches on the gray material.

“What’s wrong? Is it because of the ring?”

“Jack…sob I have to tell…you…something…” She looked so ashamed, her cheeks redder than he had ever seen. When she cried, his world stopped. He wanted to make everything better for her. What could she be so embarrassed about? We’ve been together for so long. We live together. What could be so bad? Jack pulled her into his arms, petting her hair. He hushed her with soothing sounds until she pulled away.

“I…oh, Jack…” Claire was clearly distraught. Jack wanted so much to make it better.

“Claire, it will be okay. Whatever it is. I’m here. We’re in this together. Is this about getting married? Do you want to get married?”

“More than anything. This…isn’t about sob getting married…I… I always dreamed… sob I always thought about marriage…and babies…and I want sob them with…you…Jack…I never…told you…” Jack’s mind began delving into worst possible scenarios. She’s pregnant. She’s sick. She’s dying. She’s got cancer…She’s got a secret child somewhere…

Claire could sense his panic, which only made her sobs louder and her words fewer and farther in between.  “Claire, whatever it is, we will get through this.”

She mustered all of the strength that she could to tell him. Her dark little secret. The one she’s always been so terrified to reveal.

“Jack, I will never be able to have babies. I’m an empty shell.” Afterwards she became inconsolable. Her tears swallowed her tee shirt whole. Jack held her for hours. He rocked her. He told her it would be okay. He was…surprised at his strength. This was the only time that Claire ever broke down as hard as she did. While she was usually HIS rock; today he could be hers. And he was.

This fiction series is inspired by the prompts created by Molly of Grass Oil. You can read the next part here:

Wandering Thoughts

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Wouldn’t Change a Thing

Greetings Blog Friends! Today I’ve got some amazing Friday fun for your! First, I’ve got Fiction Friday with the Fearless Fiction Femmes. If you’re looking for that post, my I direct you over to my newest fiction piece, The Rock. If you’re not particularly looking for it, I recommend it anyways, because fiction is FUN!

Next, you’ll note that I’m participating in a Secret Subject Swap, in which 15 bloggers around the globe submitted and answered random questions on their blogs. Thanks to Karen from Baking in a Tornado for putting this sweet gig together. Without further ado, here goes!

If you were allowed one do-over in life, what would it be?

submitted by:

I pride myself on the fact that I don’t believe in regret. If I were going to do anything again, I like to think that I would do it all exactly the same. I truly believe in the butterfly effect, and that if I changed one hair on my head, one crumb on the floor, one butterfly in the garden, or one kiss on the cheek, my whole world would be completely and utterly changed.

And I like my world. Sure, I struggle with a little bit of depression. Sure, life has thrown me quite a few curve balls. But I have Brian. I have my family. I have my friends. And I have you.

Brian and Quirky Chrissy

This guy kinda makes my world go round.

Everything that I have done, everything that I will do, guides me as a creator and as a writer. I look back on the countless “mistakes” I made…and they all led me in the right direction. I am the person that I was always supposed to become. And I will never hope to be anything different. My life has shaped the person that I am. I eat fear for breakfast. With cheese. I write about my life. I write fiction. I create visions for myself and for my future. I have a plan. And I can only move forward from here.

So, if I were allowed one do over in life, I wouldn’t take it. Not for the world. Not for fame. Not for fortune. Not for anything. Not even for cheese. Because I can shape the rest of my life to get what I want…and this way, I’ll get to keep my people.

I leave you with this, Blog Friends– Instead of looking to the past, look to the future. What motivates you? What visions do you have? What will you do to make your life your own?

Hey! I’m not the only one with a secret subject! Go find the subject I created! I’ve listed the links to other Secret Subject Swappers below:

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Fiction Friday: The Letters

I’m really having a lot of fun writing fiction, but I’m also super insecure about it, because it is quite new to me. Other than some creative writing classes almost a decade ago (in which I mostly wrote non-fiction stories from my life or silly sonnets about Chiclets and poems about my hatred for Snood and such), my experience in fiction is minimal. So if you read this…and like this…PLEASE tell me! 🙂 If you don’t like this…you can tell me that too. Just, you know…be nice about it. No one likes a Debbie Downer.

 The Letters

She waited patiently at the airport gate. Home. I’m going home. She hadn’t been home in years. She worked so hard to get here. The person she was as a teenager was long gone. The girl she was before Sam…Who? I don’t even remember her. He will. He’ll want me to be her. He’s married. Admitting them for the first time, even in her head, the words hit her like a ton of bricks.

She heard over the loud speakers, Boarding flight 1-9-2-5. Last call for boarding flight 1-9-2-5. Mel stood and walked toward the gate. Home.

She had written two letters last week. Two carefully penned letters. Two very different
letters to Jack.


It’s been so long, I hardly know where to begin. I know that I left abruptly. I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I got into some trouble and I didn’t want you to know. I spent a year in a juvenile detention center for the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

I graduated with honors, though, and went on to a community college. I worked so
hard, Jack. Just like you. Just like you always thought I would. You would have been so proud of me, I know it. After I got my associate’s degree, I found a really great job. I was working for a generous and patient guy, who taught me everything there is to know about restaurant management.

And then I fucked up again, Jack. My boss, Michael, was something of a player. He only hit on me once, and I told him that a better use of his time was to teach me the how to run a restaurant or seven. I thought of how proud you would be. He admired my aspirations and drive, so he never tried anything again. But he had a little brother…who learned from the master of players.

When Michael lost the manager of one of his restaurants, he gave me the position. I
trained officially with his brother, Ben. I think I fell in love, Jack. But Ben was bad news. I just…I didn’t know it then.

I’m sorry; I’ve gotten away with my thoughts. I’m coming home. I really want to see you, Jack. I miss you.


There was so much more that she could say. Jack, I’m trying so hard to make you proud of me. I didn’t want to come home until I was worthy of your pedestal. I’m pregnant with an asshole’s child. A lying, cheating asshole who wanted to pay me off to “get rid of it?” The same guy who got me fired from the only job I was ever really good at? I have nothing and no one, so now I need you? Help me. Jack, I want to be amazing, but the only thing I’m great at is fucking up?

But she did not. She could not. She would never even send the first letter. Let alone add more to it. How do I tell my best friend that I’m not even close to the girl that he thinks I am? I always wanted to be that girl. But I couldn’t. I’m not. That’s why I left. Maybe I shouldn’t go home. There’s nothing there but an empty house and a broken heart. NO. I have to go. I WANT to go. Maybe he’ll still be there. For me. I need a friend. Desperately. 

So she wrote a shorter letter. She wrote the words that she needed to write. She told him. That’s all she needed to say.

For now.


There is so much that I want to tell you. I know that I’ve been gone for a long time, but I’m coming home.

I really want to see you, Jack. I miss you.


The second is the letter that found its way to Jack. Three sentences. Three dangerous
sentences. Three.

She is coming home. Home. Jack paused for a minute before he could breathe again. Why now? He tried so hard to keep her out of his thoughts. But sometimes, he just couldn’t. She was there. And she would be home soon.


The story continues with The Rock.

I hope you’re enjoying the story so far. Now, go visit my fiction writing friends, The Fearless Fiction Femmes:

The Fiction Writing Prompt

Invent a / your character (who) has two personality traits that are completely incompatible, that don’t fit together at all. For example: this character is incredibly messy and is also a total perfectionist. Or: this character is a pacifist and also has a really explosive temper. Or: this character believes in strict, traditional family values but is promiscuous by nature. You decide. Then think of a situation in which these two sides of your character would be in direct conflict with each other. Write the story.
Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Fiction Friday: The Failure

My second attempt at fiction. If you’d like to catch up first, you can read last week’s Fiction Friday: Broken. Let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Failure

Her parents had done a fantastic job of covering up the details. Her name wasn’t published in any newspapers.  The actual event wasn’t really even noticed. Everything happened so quickly, that she didn’t even know what was happening until it was all over.

Juvenile Detention Center.

She didn’t understand. So many other girls her age did much worse, and they barely got a slap on the wrist. But their parents aren’t like mine.

It was stupid. It was just a dare. When her parents first found out, they were furious. They had been called down to the police station at noon on a Tuesday afternoon. She had ditched school, but that wasn’t why she was stuck sitting at a desk across from Officer O’Connell.

She just wanted to impress Sam. He was a senior. He was gorgeous. Tall, with dark hair and eyes to match. She would have followed him anywhere. He dared her. She couldn’t say no. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. As she kissed him on the cheek, she reached into his jeans and pulled out his pocket knife.
Before she could second guess her actions, she walked toward the ATM machine, where a young man was withdrawing money. He was small, in his early twenties. She knew that she could take him down if he put up a fight.
She stood behind him and reached for his free arm. “Don’t say a word,” She whispered. From far away, it looked as if she was hugging an old friend, but the man felt a searing pain through his arm, and the sharp tip of a weapon in his back. “You’re going to withdraw $50 from your account. Then you’re going to hand it to me. Not once are you going to turn around. When I’ve got the money, you’ll count to 50 and then you can go on doing whatever it is that you’re doing. Got it?”

$50 dollars. Fifty. Fucking. Dollars.

But it’s armed robbery. Because of the knife.

That stupid little piece of shit knife. I could blame Sam. But it wasn’t his idea to use a knife. He just dared me to go get $50 from that guy.

When she got back to the guys that afternoon, Sam was staring at her in awe. At first, she couldn’t tell if he was impressed or scared. They all ran to a nearby forest preserve, where they usually hung out on ditch days.
She handed Sam the knife, and he leaned down to kiss her. Not just a peck on the cheek, a real kiss.

Her first. She always thought Jack would be her first kiss. He was crazy about her. She knew it. She loved him, but she didn’t want to kiss him the way she wanted to kiss Sam. The way Sam kissed her that day by the ATM.

I won’t be kissing anyone for a while. Not Sam. Not Jack. Jack. Crap! How am I going to tell him? Whenever I ditched school, he brought me chicken soup. He thought I was sick. He’ll never understand. What will he think? No. He won’t know. I can’t tell him.

So she sat there, waiting for her parents. When they came, they were mortified.

“Melanie. Jane. McDaniels. What in God’s name were you fucking thinking? Are you crazy? ARMED FUCKING ROBBERY?!” Her mother had arrived.

“I…I don’t…I don’t know.” She started crying. Get your shit together, Mel. You need to be stronger than this. She stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Melanie? What are we supposed to do? You know we can’t get you out of this. We can’t help you with this. You’re on your own.” Her mom didn’t mean it completely. She did everything she could to keep the press out of it. And she was good. But she didn’t try to push for community service like the other kids got. She sent me away. She let me go.


Jack showed up at her house right before she left for River County.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“Your mother called me. She told me that you were leaving. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t tell you, Jack. Look, I’ve got to go.” As she pushed past him, she could tell that he was about to cry. She didn’t want to see him cry. She might break down and tell him the truth. She used to tell him everything. But then they grew up. She found Sam and the guys.

“Where are you going? Tell me something, please. I’m so worried. First, you’re sick all the time. Then you stop hanging out with me. Now, you’re just leaving. Are you parents going? What’s going on, Mel?”

“I’m going to stay with a family friend. I need to get away from here for a while.”

“What about school? What about our plans? College? Mel, please don’t go. Was it me? Did I do something wrong?” Her heart was breaking for him. I don’t love you the way you love me. She wanted to tell him. But she didn’t want to hurt him.

“I…have…to…I have to go, Jack. I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry.”


God, I was so stupid.

The memories flooded her brain as she began to write the letter. This is harder than I thought it would be. What do I even say?


Find out what Mel was writing in the next piece, The Letters.

Now that you’ve read my fiction piece, you can find some truly amazing writers by checking out the rest of the Fearless Fiction Femmes:

The Fiction Writing Prompt

“Your character commits a crime. (What is the motive?) Your character’s husband/wife/SO, discovers your character changing, dealing with the evidence, and wants to know what’s going on. Write the conversation. What happens next?”
Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!