#FlashMobWrites 1×32

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Welcome to #FlashMobWrites Week Thirty-Two

Come one, come all! This is an open flash fiction challenge with a musical inspiration, hosted by authors Cara Michaels (formerly of #MenageMonday, #WIPflash, and #RaceTheDate) and Ruth Long (of the wicked fun #LoveBites and #DirtyGoggles challenges).

Mob Rules

  • The challenge begins: Fridays @ Noon EDT (Eastern USA)
  • And ends: Saturday @ Midnight PST (Pacific USA)
  • Word count: 300-500 (no less, no more)
  • We love you and wish to heap praises (and random prizes) on you, so be sure to include your name (no, it doesn’t have to be your real name) and a way for us to get in touch (Twitter handles are encouraged)
  • A prompt choice is offered by each judge. Choose one (or both!) and include it in your story as given.
    • The prompt may be split between sentences, but no order change or dropping words.
    • Words may be added before or after, not in the middle.

The Inspiration

For your musical enjoyment only. You do not need to reference the video or song themes in any way for your story.

The Prompts

Cara Michaels: “knows exactly how”

Ruth Long: “don’t be surprised”

Now pick your prompt(s) and post your story in the comments below!

66 thoughts on “#FlashMobWrites 1×32”

  1. Personal Space

    Aiden grasped her hands before he realized he’d even moved. “You need some rest, Moira. Let’s go up to your apartment and I’ll run you a bath.”

    Moira nodded and stood. “That’s probably a good idea.” She shot a look at Talia. “Are you okay with closing up and showing Fitzroy the images of our intruder?”

    “Yes, I can do that.” Talia smiled as she followed them out into the hallway to the office. “I’m sure Fitzroy knows exactly how to take care of people like this. But don’t be surprised if he comes up to ask a few questions from you directly.”

    Moira sighed and nodded again. “Yeah, I figured he would. I don’t have plans on going anywhere.”
    She sounded so defeated, Aiden threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently.

    “Come on. Up you go. I’ll text you my cell number, Talia, so you can keep us in the loop.”

    “Sounds good. Feel better, Moira.”

    Aiden helped her up the stairs, his concern rising at the lack of fire in Moira’s compliance. Lenny Corsica’s appearance had shaken her up so much she docilely went where he directed. Something has to be done about this guy. Fortunately, they’d called the police and Talia trusted Fitzroy. Maybe I’ll meet with him when he comes. Better to be on the offensive than merely defensive.

    He led Moira upstairs to her room. “You get into your robe and I’ll run the bath. Do you want me to make some tea?”

    “Yes, please, but I don’t want any until I’m out of the bath. No point of falling asleep and drowning.” Her dry smirk encouraged him.

    “Good plan.” He chuckled as he retreated to the bathroom.

    The pale stone tile squeaked beneath the soles of his shoes as he leaned over the bathtub to adjust the water temperature. As much as he’d like to watch her bathe—hell, I’d be happy to help her—he wanted to make sure she felt protected. The last thing she needed was another man intruding on her personal space.

    Even if that’s exactly where I want to be.

    353 #WIP500 words
    @SiobhanMuir

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  2. A father and mother stood by their child and worried.
    “She’s just a little girl. How can she be dying? ”the mother asked.
    “I will find the bones of my brother,” the father Ahiga claimed.
    “No one knows exactly how or why,” the Hataalii answered, “She must have crossed the land where Adahy died and his bones could not be found.”
    “My daughter is a sturdy woman, but you know medicines why can you not cure her?” begged the mother.
    “I will do my best but don’t be surprised if she joins the ancestors. The chindi are strong. If she saw the Makalay, a one-horned deity, I can do nothing for the spirits are a part of life and death,” the Hataalii replied.
    “The fever, the nausea, that she suffers from the chindi cause this? Is there any way to appease them? “
    “The chindi are strong but if we could find the bones of Adahy and give them a decent burial then I will perform songs of the Enemy Way, prayers, and infuse her with my herbs.”
    “I will find the bones of my brother and we will perform the burial ceremony,” the father Ahiga claimed. Ahiga then left.
    The Hataalii gathered herbs together and then cooked them up over the fire. The Hataalii sang songs over them. Then the Hataalii put some in a cup and put it up to the child’s mouth. The child instantly began to throw up.
    The mother looked worried and ran to the child.
    “This is good; she vomits the evil spirits from her.” claimed the Hataalii.
    The Hataalii performed the Enemy Way and the child rallied . A week went by and the child recovered. The Hataalii was busy curing others exposed to the chindi. The father found the bones and performed the burial rites and the village was once again safe from the illness the chindi caused.
    316 words
    @SweetSheil

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  3. First Encounter

    “You’re getting a new partner today.”

    Derek called from the doorway. I shut my locker and adjusted my gun in its holster.

    “What happened to Alex?” She packed a punch, and I trusted her with my life. Adjusting to someone new would be annoying, to say the least.

    “She was spooked by what happened yesterday – realized she wasn’t ready for it.” Great. I couldn’t really blame her, though. Our job description didn’t actually include dealing with supernatural entities, and wraiths were the worst of the worst. It was only Lexia’s dagger that had kept me from getting killed.

    “If there’s another attack like last night’s don’t be surprised if more people start quitting.” The guard was already down to barely thirty and most of us worked around the clock.

    “Something tells me this new girl won’t be scared off so easily. She actually jumped at the chance to replace Alex after what happened last night.” Another woman? Alex had been one of only a handful. Something in the hall caught Derek’s attention, prompting him to lean back. “Speak of the devil! Saxon, meet Elle.”

    Elle was tiny – at least a foot and a half shorter than me. She didn’t even look old enough to be a guard, never mind being able to hold her own against monsters. With a smile, she walked over to me, blue pony-tail bouncing behind her, and offered her hand. “Hello! So you’re the infamous Saxon?”

    “Infamous?” Her grip was stronger than I expected, and something about her felt familiar. Extremely familiar.

    “I heard about what you did yesterday. You basically took the thing down with your bare hands!” Not without a few scratches, as the pain in my side constantly reminded me. What she – and everyone else I worked with – didn’t know was that I was a psychic. That only made me barely more qualified than regular humans to take down supernatural monsters, and even I was surprised at my own success. Lexia was the only other human – well, half human – I’d ever seen survive a fight with a wraith.

    “I got lucky.”

    “Well let’s hope your luck holds.” Derek walked out of the room after, leaving me to show her around.

    “So this is your locker. We have special issue handguns, so you should find Alex’s old gun in there.”

    She nodded and moved to unlock the locker with the key Derek probably gave her. I leaned against the door to my locker, trying to be casual.

    “So why a guard?”

    “They wouldn’t let me be a scavenger. You?”

    “A scavenger?” It was the only occupation more dangerous than being a guard. They were the only civilians allowed outside the walls. “Funny, they won’t let me be one either.”

    “A shame, given your skill against the wraiths.” She smiled, her eyes darting to the dagger strapped to my thigh. Something about her look was borderline suspicious. Her eyes seemed to glow a pale emerald. “Maybe someday.”

    “Yeah, maybe.”

    500 relationship establishing words
    @katheryn_avila

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  4. Dealer’s Choice

    “Okay, whose deal is it?” Hap asked. Then, in fine drill sergeant form, “Right! Hollis, assemble those troops.”

    The Mayor did a pedestrian shuffle and deployed his playing card soldiers.

    “Boys,” Hap began to spell out the rules, “We play a simple game of poker in Crowbar. Straight up. No shenanigans. And, once in a while, just for plain, down home fun. Reason? Well, I didn’t get the impression that you were…flush”

    John uttered a barely noticeable, semi articulate grunt or, maybe, a thoughtful “hmm.”

    I picked up my dealt cards, kept my smile to myself.

    Three aces! A fatted calf of a hand. I could have cleaned up.

    Nevertheless, with the pressure of our cash poor position lifted, I got into the spirit of gambling just for the heck of it.

    “So,” said Hap, “I hope you don’t mind that I shared your, whadaya call it, your mission with my friends. We all knew Hazel real well. Right, Hollis?”

    The game was proving to be not all that convivial.

    The Mayor blushed.

    “Just pulling your leg, Holly.”

    Hollis Shelby had puffy eyes, a chin that seemed destined to spank his belly, and a nose W.C Fields might well confuse with his own. For a moment I remembered a favourite scene from the Crosby film, Mississippi. If I had learned poker from Fields, and I was pretty sure I had, it was on that riverboat. I was definitely in trouble.

    “What Hap is hintin’ at,” Shelby clarified, “is that Hazel, him and me grew up together…That right Hap?”

    “You betcha, Holly. That, and maybe you were always just a bit taken, some might say moonin’ over her for quite a few years.”

    Shelby now looked just plain sad. I could see Granger back off. A smart bully knows exactly how far under someone’s skin he can slither.

    “So, Quarry, you don’t mind…?”

    “Small towns, Hap. Hard to keep secrets for long, eh?” John said.

    If John’s repost punctured any of Grangers hot air, no leak was discernable.

    Jack Squires was clearly getting irritated by the banter. “Any chance of just playin’ poker?”

    As he vented, Tyrell, quietly, imposingly, stood up and left the room. In a second we could hear a door close.

    “Well, gentleman,” Hap attempted to regroup his floundering forces, “time for a ceasefire. We’ll re-up momentarily. Refill your glasses. I’ll just check on the Senator.”

    As Granger exited the firing range, John got up, saying, “Been scrunched up all day. Think I’ll stretch my legs.” He disappeared.

    That left me, Squires and Shelby. Maybe we were the Three Stooges. Squires was the most likely alpha Scrooge, the slap happy Moe Howard. I seemed to be referencing, ruminating comedians. That thought made me wonder if this town had a movie house.

    Squires moaned and muttered, “Kee…rist.”

    Shelby practiced his shuffling technique, said to me, “Don’t be surprised if Roscoe disappears…”

    I nodded, told a late Sunday fib, “Nothing about Crowbar City has shocked me so far.”

    500 hands later and the games afoot
    @billmelaterplea

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  5. @bullishink / 502 ineligible words

    The back of the house was quieter, though there was a steady flow of caterers moving about, taking smoke breaks, retrieving crates of champagne from the truck and returning boxes of freshly washed china place settings. Probably some high dollar pattern with gold edging, a far cry from the gentle green fern leaves hand stamped on the stoneware she and Jason had picked out for their wedding trousseau. She didn’t miss him but she damn sure missed those dishes

    She parked as far from the fray as she could, went to the patio that looked out over the river, and waited. By the time Scarlet appeared, children in tow, Bridget’s nerves had settled to a dull roar.

    “Why are you back here,” Scarlet said, the lilt of her accent heavy with the weight of her concern.

    She helped Ethan and Evan into the back seat. “Don’t know. A pair of black sedans pulled into the driveway and Jason shooed me out of the way.”

    Scarlet put the children’s backpacks in the back of the jeep. “Must be his mysterious new business partner. Nobody knows exactly how they’re connected.”

    “Jason and I never saw eye to eye when it came to his ambitions,” Bridget said, lifting Casey into her car seat and buckling her in.

    “I never minded. Besides, his looks and charm were all I was interested in,” Scarlet laughed and waved goodbye to the children.

    The roar of gunfire tore through the house and echoed across the water.

    Bridget raced for the driver’s door. “Get in the jeep, Scarlet.”

    “But Gabriella is in the house. She’s asleep in her crib.”

    Damn it. She got out and headed for the patio. “Get in the jeep and head for my house. No. Go to the church. Round back by the playground.”

    “What are you doing?”

    “I’m going to get your daughter, find a car, and get the hell out of here. Stay down here in the river road as long as you can. If I’m not at the church in thirty minutes, call my editor at the newspaper. He’ll know what to do. Now go.”

    The kids were crying as the jeep hurtled down the incline to the path along the river but Bridget turned and headed for a bedroom window on the bottom floor of the house. She shrugged out of her sweatshirt, wrapped it around her arm as a buffer, and smashed through the glass.

    Scarlet had taken it upon herself to raise the kids while Bridget served her sentence and she’d been gracious throughout the visitation process, even though Jason had opposed her on both counts. This was her chance to repay Scarlet’s kindness and she wasn’t about to let anything stop her.

    And when the dust settled after whatever firestorm this was, she’d make sure Scarlet and Gabriella were safe, always. Because that’s what she’d learned on her eighteen months inside, friends took care of each, looked out for each other, and never let each other fall through the cracks.

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  6. A careful wish.

    Things learnt today,

    Don’t summon dark creatures from the underworld.

    This may sound like a given but hear me out in this. You see, I put a lot of effort in learning how to summon things. It’s not easy. For one don’t draw the magic portal in the floor. Because when I called my creature into this world I didn’t want it to happen like this.

    “Excuse me. But can you give me a hand,” a female voice called from the circle.

    “I summon you oh creature of darkness to come and give it all to me,” I intoned once again, trying to sound more commanding.

    “Oh for crying out loud,” said the voice as an arm came out, slapped the floor and seconds later a girl came rolling out of the circle. Standing she brushed herself off and stood looking at me. “What? It’s appears like a doorway on the other side. If you draw in on the floor as soon as we come through gravity takes over and we fall back in. It’s not hard, put the sodding thing on a wall next time.”

    I had to admit, when I’d attempted to summon a succubus I’d kind of expected to have more leather, horns and giant breasts and less pink tutu’s. Don’t get me wrong, she was pretty, really pretty. But I’d not wanted someone that looked like she’d just been to a children’s Disney party.

    “Creature of the darkest night I command,” at that her hand shoot up.

    “Look, I’m not of the night, I just work at night. People tend to complain if you come and take there teeth in broad daylight.”

    “Excuse me Teeth?”

    “I’m a tooth fairy.”

    “But I was summoning a succubus. Why did I get a bloody tooth fairy.”

    “I’m doing over time ok? Let’s get on with this and I can go back to the depot. There’s a good movie on soon.”

    “Why is a tooth fairy doing over time? Don’t teeth pay well?”

    “Not when your a junior it doesn’t. And who do you think gives the money you find? We do, out of my own pocket. Six molars and a canine last night I had to pay for. It gets expensive it does. Not like we give out a sixpence anymore.”

    I looked at her. She’s was clearly not having a good night. ” I summoned you here to do my bidding, not complain.”

    “Complain? Oh I hadn’t even started. Do you know what they said to me? Room with a succubus, it’ll be party central. All season long party’s. Did you know there’s such a thing as an abstinence succubus? I didn’t, all she does is sulk and gaze longingly at mopey boys. That’s not the kind of life I wanted at collage. I wanted to have fun, not drown in angst and self pity.”

    And on and on she went. I’d wanted to smummon a supernatural creature that would give it all to me, just not like that. If you don’t word things properly, don’t be surprised if it goes wrong.

    499 words

    @laughingandy

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  7. Mother’s Stacks

    “C’mon ma, you’d be perfect for the show. I told you about the pay, right?” Carlo stared his mother down trying to dial up the insistence in his voice more than the dozen or so other times he’d had this conversation with her. He knew she’d take the papers from him pretend to look over the waivers from the production company then stack them up wherever she stacked the rest of these printouts in her capacity house.

    “I’m just not the on camera type,” she offered again.

    “They’re just here for the week. Enough to clean out all this hoarding mess and get you a new start.” And give each of us five thousand for participating, he added to himself.

    “I’m happy the way it is.”

    “Ma, one stray spark from the stove and this whole place goes up. Don’t be surprised if that happens.” The floors were stacked with newspapers. The piles reached the ceiling. The whole house reeked of them. Now Carlo reeked of them too. His wife would complain about it, but he couldn’t afford to dry-clean the smell out. Not after the layoff.

    “I don’t use the stove.”

    Carlo sighed. He couldn’t push her too hard. This all started when Dad ran off two decades ago. She collected the papers hunting for any sign of him in the news. He was certainly in the news before then. Mainly the police blotter. Always telling his kids he needed to get what’s his. Minor crimes. Petty theft. Larceny. Nothing violent. Ma was the violent one, but only to Dad. Carlo didn’t blame the man for leaving her.

    He never did come up in the papers though and the papers never left. They just stacked up. Ma was able to collect his insurance policy about five years after he was gone. Somehow she was able to get him declared deceased. Now the money was running out and Carlo was also in a pinch. The Hoarding reality show was a sure thing. Easy money.

    “I ain’t got dead cats. That’s what’s on the show now. This house is clean. I keep it up.”

    “Geez ma, can you think about it more?” he implored. “For me at least?”

    “I’ll look over the application.” He could tell she had no intention of doing that.

    “All right.” He gave her a kiss on the head. Even her skin exuded the stale paper smell of her domicile.

    He made his way through the foot-wide cleared path of paper back to the front door where the newspaper stacking had started. He’d get her to sign the papers. The five thousand for himself was only the beginning. He knew he’d get much more with the press tour in the aftermath of what the film crew would find under Ma’s piles. He was certain Dad was under those papers somewhere, Carlo just had to wait it out. He’d known for a while, but like his Dad, he had to wait for the opportunity to get what’s his.

    500 words
    @BradyTheWriter

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  8. @AvLaidlaw
    497 Words

    She Walks in Beauty Like the Night

    She walks under the stardust. Each point of light records in her memory: Sirius A, accompanied by a white dwarf companion, 8.6 light years from the Solar System, its rising marked the flooding of the Nile. All these facts. But is it beautiful? She doesn’t know. Such judgements lies beyond her neural networks. She continues to walk, faints clouds of dust rising from her footfalls and billowing away in the low gravity.

    On the mare she finds streaks of pale ejecta and follows them to the crashed spacecraft, the hull split open, the thin metal crumpled around the wound. Streams of fuel evaporate into the vacuum with a pale luminescence.

    “Captain Charles Richard requesting assistance.”

    The voice comes over the radio spectrum.

    “For God’s sake. Can you help?”

    A human in a spacesuit lies on the ground. He doesn’t move.

    “Can I assist?” She asks.

    “Oxygen.”

    “I don’t have any.”

    “Shit. An android. Am I out of luck today.”

    “I could find someone.”

    “Not in three minutes fifty two seconds. My lovely EVA suit keeps telling me when the air runs out.”

    “I’m sorry.” This is a preprogrammed statement, triggered by a human in distress. Even as she says it, she wonders what the word sorry means. These words were implanted in her mind to make her seem more human. But she is not.

    “It’s not so bad. Who else knows exactly how long they’ve got? Question is, do I pull the plug early and get it over and done with? Does that still count as suicide?”

    The spacesuit has a panel on the chest and it only takes a few processing cycles for her to figure out the controls that turn off the suit’s alarm system. As she leans over him, she sees his eyes through the visor. His pupils are dilated. That is fear but his voice is calm. He keeps his emotions secret.

    “Thank-you,” he says. “Talk to me.”

    “About what?”

    “Anything. Just keep talking. Don’t stop.”

    “Are the stars beautiful?”

    “Wouldn’t be out here if they weren’t.”

    “Why?”

    “When I was a little kid, looking up at the night sky, I thought the stars were God’s thoughts. Wanted to see them up close, thought that I might understand things. It was kind of scary to think about them, so old and far away. But always so beautiful. Untroubled by a shit world. Wish I could see them one last time.”

    He isn’t heavy in the low gravity, but awkward as she lifts him to his feet and holds him, her hands around his waist and his head resting against hers. He lifts his head to stare into the sky,

    “Is it worth it, to see them so close?” She asks him.

    “Yes.”

    There is silence. The three minutes and fifty two seconds have elapsed.

    The other human will want him so she carries him across the mare, under the stardust. As she walks, she knows this now; that Captain Charles Richards was beautiful.

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  9. @PattyannMc
    WC: 500

    Playin’ With Fire

    Spiky stilettoes, slender ankles, tiny waist, and unruly blonde hair catch my attention every time I drive by her. She’s tantalizing and I know it’s wrong, but I still drive past her every night at two a.m. just to catch a glimpse. Her look is the stuff of my dreams, waking up more times than I wanna admit with jizz in my shorts. ‘Wet dreams,’ my mama used to call them when I was a teen; ‘don’t be surprised if it happens to you,’ she’d say.

    It’s embarrassing explaining to my wife waking beside me, why I came in my sleep. Of course I lie to her, what am I gonna do, tell my wife I dreamt of another woman? One who makes me feel something. Gawd knows exactly how, or why, but she does.

    One of these nights, I might stop and talk to her, wrong as it is, I can’t stop thinking about her. I need to talk to her, what’s the harm in that? I get I’m playin’ with fire, but it’s just a talk.

    Holding my breath driving downtown, I almost hope I don’t see her on my watch tonight. Turning my cruiser onto the street where she hangs out, she’s standing on the corner under the raw orange glow of a streetlamp. Her skirt is so damned tight and short tonight; she’s got great legs, I like it! I flip my siren on as I pull to the curb. I almost expected her to make a run for it, but she’s standing as still as a statue, waiting for me. Exiting my cruiser, hand absentmindedly on the butt of my pistol, I walk up to her . . .

    “You know what to do, don’tcha woman; spread em. Wider please. Yeah, that’s good, just like that. Now hold still while I pat ya down.”

    She obliged, taking the stance. “You know, I see you almost every night, Officer. Why’d you stop tonight?”

    “I had a hankering to talk to you.”

    “Why?”

    “Stop talking and spread your legs a bit wider.”

    She tried to oblige, but her skirt was too tight. She hiked it to her waist exposing her bum, her G-string running her crack like a line on the highway. I ripped it off, leaning her over a grungy linoleum counter, widening her legs with my foot and mounted her from behind.

    “This isn’t talking,” she gasped, her stilettoes digging into grimy green shag, “but I like it,” she moaned, breathy.

    I felt a mixture of emotions as I plunged myself inside of her, exhilaration, guilt, passion; my trousers bagged around my ankles, my hands under her breasts massaging her nipples. My muscle exploded inside her, fireworks igniting my body.

    Afterwards, I tossed sixty bucks on the counter. She tossed it back to me.

    “So – you’re not gonna arrest me – officer?”

    “No. As long as this stays between us, and I can see you again.”

    Once home, guilt consumed me knowing I’ll do her every chance I get.

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  10. A perfectly round circle.

    Kora stares at it as if she has been hypnotized by the perfection of it … until a small droplet of liquid trickles out of it. Followed by another … then another …

    She lets out a loud gasp and closes her eyes, not wanting to watch the scene unfold before her.

    Falling down to her knees, she hides her face in her hands, desperately wishing she could unsee the last couple of moments.

    “Hey,” a soft voice calls out from somewhere near her.

    When she doesn’t respond, she feels a hand drop to her shoulder, gripping her. “Don’t be surprised. The first time is always the hardest. It’ll get easier.”

    She flinches at the ramifications of his words. Opening her eyes, she aims a glare at her companion. “Are you fucking kidding me, Davis?” she asked scathingly. “Can you for a moment try not to be a douche bag with that holier than thou attitude of yours?”

    Davis shrugs. “You just made your first kill. Soon you’ll be the asset who knows exactly how satisfying it is to take someone’s life without having to worry about getting caught.”

    “Asset?” Kora lets out a bark of laughter, her eyes going back to the man lying a mere few feet away from her with a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

    A bullet hole Kora put in there.

    With her eyes still locked on the dead body, she says, “We’re not assets, we’re freaking assassins.”

    “Exactly!”

    His excitement makes her frown. “How can you be so … nonchalant? You’ve just watched me kill a man. For real.”

    “He was a dirty cop,” he says in a way of explanation. “He was on the CIA hit list and you had to make your bones before we could send you undercover to the lair of the Staton Family. Look at it as a win-win situation. Come on, we should get to the head quarters.”

    Kora doesn’t say a word. Instead, she takes a deep breath and nods. That’s the moment when she decides that she is going to be just as emotionless as her partner. She needs to be … because she’s going to survive this … no matter what it takes.

    Word Count: 375
    Twitter Handle: @TwiAddictAnne

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  11. @cynthiafbuck
    313 words

    Running To Think

    If there was ever a time I’d been grateful for my gym membership, it’s right now. It’s been a shitty day, to say the least. Nothing burns off my anger and clears my head like a good workout. I would’ve called my best friend, Sydney, but I’m not in the mood for her I-told-you-so’s right now. I love her and all, but I hate it when she’s right.

    I can’t believe I took that lowlife creep back, only for him to hurt me again. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly, either. I truly thought he had changed. But just like last time, the joke was on me.

    “Don’t be surprised when he breaks your heart—again.” Those were Syd’s exact words when I told her I had gotten back together with him. I was pissed at first by her lack of support, but deep down I knew she had a point. Max and I didn’t have a great track record. How is it that I could be so in love with someone who was so toxic?

    God knows I’m not the first girl to fall for a bad boy. It’s just that I never thought Max would be bad to me. He knows exactly how to push my buttons, true, but he’d never been outright cruel before. Not until this morning.

    Max did not take the news well. There was yelling, name calling, and a shove up against the wall. That was all done to me by him. I got the hell out of his apartment as fast as my short legs could carry me.

    So here’s the situation; Sydney was right, Max is a bad boy who won’t ever change, and I’ve been running on this treadmill for thirty minutes and I still don’t know what to do.

    Maybe the difference is that I’m thinking for two now.

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  12. @jasonlefthand
    490 words

    Laura made the final turn down Grey Wolf Trail. The motorcycle beneath her rumbled as she revved the engine. The headlight cut through the dark night. Next to her, in the sidecar, was her sister, Kathy. Kathy wasn’t keen on going out on a Saturday night, but Laura prided herself in her persuasion skills. It just took a lot of pleading.

    Kathy was stiff in her seat, her goggles hid her expression, but Laura knew what she was thinking. Twins often felt each other’s feelings and Laura heard Kathy’s opinion loud and clear without her saying a word.

    A few houses down, Laura finally pulled to the edge of the road behind a line of empty vehicles. The motorcycle let out one last growl before Laura shut off the engine. She undid her helmet and looked at her sister through her clear goggles.

    “It looks like we’re fashionably late,” Laura said.

    Kathy jumped out and rubbed her butt. “We’re pretty far out of town. I think we’re near the Clay Lands.”

    “I told you not to mention that name anymore,” Laura said, “Anyway. Come on, I don’t want to miss the fun.”

    Kathy walked briskly as Laura led the way. Their boots crunched on the ground. In the two story house, they heard muffled music. All the lights were on and the curtains were shut. The house was a beacon under the new moon.

    Laura was first up the steps.

    “Don’t be surprised if we’re up all night,” Laura said with a smirk. She opened the door and ran inside.

    Kathy followed her sister. The bright light hurt her eyes, the music was loud, but then it suddenly softened to a low hum. When the sting was gone, she blinked and saw Laura staring at an empty living room. There was no party. In each corner of the room stood tall ghastly men, covered in black ash. Their bellies protruded over buckskin loincloths.

    “Oh, great!” Laura said as she looked behind her shoulder. “What happened to the party?”

    “Ash demons,” Kathy said as she reached behind her belt. She felt for her blessed obsidian knife. It would not destroy them, but it was enough to buy them some time.

    “I knew this party was too good to be true,” Laura said.

    Kathy brandished her knife as the four demons started to close in, their footsteps stained the hardwood floor.

    “Who told you about this party?” Kathy said. It was a moot point given their current predicament, but she had to know.

    “Guffrey,” Laura said, “I’m gonna get him if we survive this.”

    Kathy snorted. “That’s what we get for trusting the goat clan.”

    Laura shot her sister a scowl and drew her own knife. It was a white bone blade, spotless and sharp.

    The demons reached out, black dripped from their fingertips. They surrounded the White Rock sisters, but they did not realize the twins knew just what to do.

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  13. Jimmy Rickliefs sat in back of the van with his wife, Allison, while his mother Marcella drove to UC Irvine Hospital. His wife had gone into labor in the middle of the night. He let her squeeze his hand while she timed contractions.

    After checking, Allison was settled in her room, and had monitors strapped to her belly.

    “These will monitor the baby’s heart rate and your contractions,” the nurse explained. “Dr. Petree is on her way in.”

    “Thanks,” Allison breathed. “Can my husband have a chair? He has a new—” she breathed. “—hip.”

    The nurse smiled. “Already on it. You want any pain medication, hon?”

    Allison shook her head. “I’m good.”

    Jimmy smiled at his wife. Since her last delivery had been an emergency, she was determined to do this one naturally. But her birth plan said IV pain medication was fine if the pain was overwhelming. Jimmy let her squeeze his hand. He knew better than to say anything. The nurse came back with a stool for him and watched the monitors.

    “When does she get into the tub?” he asked.

    “I’m going to prepare the tub right now. The doctor is here wants to do an exam before you get in.”

    The nurse went into the bathroom and the doctor came in.

    “Good morning. You know that kids born before eight in the morning tend to be morning people, right?” Jimmy and Allison laughed. “All right, hon, don’t be surprised if this hurts. I apologize in advance.”

    Jimmy bid his hand farewell during the internal exam. When the doctor was done, she smiled.

    “We can get in the tub anytime now.”

    “Tub is ready, doctor,” the nurse said.

    Jimmy helped his wife walk into the bathroom. Once she was in the water, the room filled up with nurses and other medical personnel. Jimmy perched on his stool and kept Allison’s hand tight in his.

    “All right, hon, you are ready to go,” Dr. Petree said after another quick exam. “I want you to breathe in through your nose, then bear down and push while I count to ten. Breathe.”

    Jimmy counted with the doctor through the first push.

    “Another push. Breathe in.” Allison pulled in a breath. “Okay and push.”

    Jimmy’s eyes watered when Allison squeezed his hand. She was still without pain medication and he hoped the warm water was helping.

    “You’re doing fine, hon. I can see the top of the head. Gonna be a red head, I think,” the doctor said. “Breathe in. And push.”

    Jimmy thought things were too calm. He’d expected a lot more running around and excitement, but everyone was waiting patiently.

    “Good. One more and we’ll have us a baby. Breathe in. And push.”

    This one was the hardest push and Jimmy was pretty sure his hand would never work again. Allison sat back, panting, and all at once, a cry split the room.

    “It’s a girl!” Dr. Petree announced. “Congratulations!”

    Jimmy wasn’t ashamed to say he cried.

    @Aightball
    500 words (WIP)

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  14. Pingback: Random Post – NaNoWriMo muscle stretches | Trials and Tribulations of Writing Fiction

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