Love You Less



Love You Less

I arrive home early from work to find candles burning, romantic music, rose petals strewn across our hardwood floor.

What? You were never this romantic.

The sounds draw me to our bedroom, to you half-dressed with my best friend.

“Loves me not, I guess.”

You look up from kisses, drowsy with love. “Honey? You’re early. Um. I can explain.”

“Great. Now you can’t be mad at me for hitting your car.”

“What? When?” You start to get up. Now, you’re worried.  You and that car.

“In about thirty seconds.” I wave and go. You were never that smart, either.

This is my weekly story for Friday Fictioneers, where ever week author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields gives us the prompt and we write 100 word stories to match. For more stories and to add your own, click the froggy!




A single light blazes in the distance guiding my way, the only thing visible through the haze. The past haunts each step: explosions, screams, decisions, truths too harsh to remember or forget.

Twenty feet away now, feet crunching through snow, hair frosted by harsh winds. A door swings open to reveal a shadowed face.

They will call us heroes, saviors of our world.

But what about our life together? Can you accept the person I’ve become? Can the person I’ve become accept you? I have to know, once for all.

“Honey, I’m home.”

This is my weekly post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle, our ever-present light in the dark. For more stories, click the link.

The Love Boats


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The Love Boats

When we first met, it was love at first sight. You were well-built and strong, sturdy steel sides carving a path through water. My gleaming white surfaces glistened in the sun as I glided past.

We said we’d go slow. No promises. No regrets.

But then, something happened, something neither of us expected. And now, there’s a jet ski in my hull. I think it’s yours.

I wait for your response, fingers clasped on my radio.

Static. Held breath. Then, “You are so weird. Call me later, and I’ll pick it up when I’m in port.”


This is my weekly submission for Friday Fictioneers. Our captain for this voyage is the ever-vigilant Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. For more stories or to add your own, click the froggy!

IWSG: I Heart Fantasy


Hard to believe it’s February already, but it is. That means today is IWSG Day and a week before Valentine’s Day, which makes it the perfect time for this optional question of the month.

February 7 question – What do you love about the genre you write in most often?

Okay, I may not write fantasy most often, but it’s the genre I love most, because I love creating new worlds. I love exploring new worlds when I read, too.

Every genre can and should have interesting characters. But in fantasy you get interesting worlds built on nightmares and dreams. Some of my favorite world-builders are authors like George R.R. Martin, Mercedes Lackey, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Octavia E. Butler. One of the things I love about these authors is that the world is a major plot point, like another character with motivations and secrets to uncover. At times, I find the world more interesting than the characters.

For example, in the Lord of the Rings, Tolkien uses the idea of the Undying Lands to navigate our fears and hopes about life and death. We hope those we love are in a “better place” maybe even the place they were always meant to be. At the same time, we want to think the are still with us. I love the tension between this place and wherever mortals actually go when they die. It’s just one of many ways he uses setting and world-building in a way that wouldn’t be possible in another genre.

I don’t write fantasy most often, because it’s hard. Creating a world is hard work. Salutations to all the writers who have gone before and pulled it off.

What about you? What’s your favorite genre to write and read? Is it also the one you write most often? Do you love fantasy too?

Happy IWSG Day and Happy February!



PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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“You need help.”

And I walked away wondering what is wrong with…me?

You did help me. You’ve taught me so much.

Like saying “you need help” without offering to help is actually an insult. Also, sometimes “really good people” are perfectly okay with shattering you, leaving you to pick up the-

Anyway. Now I know. There are people out there willing to take credit for doing nothing. That’s what they do, how they apparently thrive.

But I’m not magic. I can’t turn shards of glass into a mirror.

This is my weekly story for Friday Fictioneers. This year the picture is from Rochelle, our fearless leader, writer, and a good photographer too. For more stories, click the blue Froggy!