Friday Fictioneers: Attack of the Killer Vines (sort of)


PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright-Roger Bultot

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Daniel prodded the killer vines with some annoyance as they tried – once again – to swallow a passerby’s wagon. “Cut that out. That’s rude!” he shouted at them.

The vines drew back, withering into the ground, only a few small shoots hovering above the grass.

“If you’re bored, why don’t you go attack one of those party schools, one of those ones where the kids go to party not study. Make it a little more distinguished-like. They’ll hate it. You’ll have a grand time.”

The vines took his advice and left.

New England never was the same after that.


This is my post for Friday Fictioneers, where every week we get together and post 100 word stories in response to a prompt. Oh, and occasionally have fun doing so, although I’m not supposed to tell you that part.

Throwback Thursdays: Rings and Things


Dragon Prince by Melanie Rawn (cover art by Michael Whelan) is the first epic fantasy series I ever read, and I loved it. It was recommended to me by fellow Mercedes Lackey fans, all of whom seemed to be reading Rawn – and telling me she was the next great thing. I was 12 at the time and was amazed to find that I could read a book that huge. Then, I read the next, and the next. They were big but compelling, full of swordplay and magic, intrigue and love.

Yes I read Rawn even before I read Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. (Perhaps you’ve heard of that one.)


Whenever I think of Rawn’s gorgeous world – and all the fun I had reading about it, I always thinks of Sunrunner’s rings, the rings of Sioned the Sunrunner, wife of Rohan (the prince – not the land of the horse lords!) For Sunrunners, rings were a sign of their power, their level of mastery over magic – and a reminder to use magic only for good. Perhaps Sioned could be called the Lady of the Rings? Maybe not. I’ve read lots of great books since, but Dragon Prince remains one of my favorite epic fantasy series to this day.

Wonderful Wednesdays: Color Blindness


I’m not going to lie. I’m posting this so late on Wednesday in large part because I was racking my brain trying to think of something wonderful to say. Once I came up with the concept and a possible title, I was trying to decide whether I should title this Mercy or Forgiveness, because color-blindness is a real condition some people have. But I’m going to leave it there. Because diversity is not a color.

I keep playing something over and over in my head from this past Monday around 3PM EST. I was in the gym, on the elliptical. Suddenly I looked up and realized 5 of the 8 overhead screens had President Obama giving some speech. Without my glasses and without headphones I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but I knew it had to be something major, something wrong. As it turned out, he was giving a speech about 1) Iraq and 2) Ferguson Missouri. I found out by asking someone else not short-sighted like me (so to speak.) Then, I looked around the gym and thought … there are black people here, working out with us – and I never thought about it. Like most people I generally don’t make a note of the fact, other than for descriptive purposes – oh he’s tall with long black hair, dark skin.

All I could think was how many times what we don’t think about is as important as what we do. How often do we “let things slide” because we like the person, because we err on the side of trust? And how hard is it to do that to everyone?

Our ability to give someone a chance, even to lay our lives on the line and peacefully protest, because we believe in the dignity and humanity of our “enemy,” that is also a wonderful thing. It’s not the same as being a doormat. But it does mean checking our prejudices at the door lest we be overcome by all the things we think we know. And sometimes, when we are “weak,” we are very strong.

And that’s all I’ve got for today. Next week, hopefully I’ll have something better, like platypuses or unicorns or rainbows. For now, I suppose all I have is a dream….





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I have only a second to                                      try to
              tell you                                          i can’t

let me try again.

so much                                                 more than i
             has happened                      can bear
                     tripping            off     my tongue
                        over my words.

I’ve missed you!

Please don’t go again
so soon.

i need time to get it together.
i need time to breathe and process and…okay,


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Why am I so afraid? Why am I so afraid?

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Why am I so afraid? Why am I so afraid?
What is the worst that can happen anyway?

Behave. Be quiet.
Be a good girl.
Stand up straight.
Don’t stray.
Don’t look away.

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In this moment of clarity
I can see.
Head above water
I can breathe.

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I am not afraid.
I am who I am.
I will not be afraid.
I will be who I will be.

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Friday Fictioneers: The Chair


PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

The Chair

A realtor calls Jack to the Cook house in northern Maine, to prove it’s full of antiques and empty of ghosts.

He sets up his equipment in one corner of the allegedly haunted master bedroom. Then, he waits. In front of him, an antique writing desk holds a portrait of old Mr. Cook, from his younger days.

“I wonder what the new owners will do with you,” he tells the picture.

Suddenly, the chair tips over, knocking him to the floor.

“Get out of my house!”

Great, Jack thinks – a prankster. Except, there are no strings attached to the chair….


This is my entry for Friday Fictioneers, where every Friday we get together and write 100 word stories in response to a prompt. Sound like fun? Give it a try!