Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

WEP - Antigue Vase - Best Intentions




BEST INTENTIONS



Angela took the vase out of the package she’d just received in the post and cursed. “All I wanted was the necklace. Instead, all I get is a stupid vase!”


“Quit bellyaching. Nana didn’t have to leave you anything. All you did was clean her house. Velda was her daughter. Of course, Nana’s going to leave her jewelry to family.”


“I know, but Velda doesn’t deserve it. I did more for her mother than she ever did. I just don’t understand. Nana told me that one day I’d be rich. Then she’d wink. You just wait, she’d say. You just wait.” Angela sighed. “It doesn’t make sense.”



“Oh, for heaven’s sake, maybe someday you will be rich. Nana was the poorest woman on the block. Despite all those rumors. All poor Velda got was her jewelry and a measly $5000, life insurance payment. From what I was told, she had to use that to cover the funeral costs.”



“Yeah, but that necklace has to be worth something.”



“I heard it’s cubic zirconia, worth maybe a couple hundred.”



Angela sighed. “Oh well at least I have something to remember Nana by.” She picked up the vase and examined it. “Nana doted over the silly thing, reminding me every day to dust it ever so carefully. She refused to put flowers in it.”



“What are you going to do with it?” Betty asked.



“Last month, I sent a letter to one of those antique houses in New York. I sent pictures of all the sides, including the bottom, and I was hoping they’d write back and tell me it’s worth a mint. But instead, I think they just had a good laugh. So, I’ll keep it here on the bookshelf with Nana’s picture."


Betty picked it up and shook it. "What’s inside? It sounds like there’s something in there.”


“Nana said it was a love letter from her husband. The one and the only letter he wrote to her before he was killed in the war. That’s why she wouldn’t allow water for flowers.”


“How sweet. You want to get some tweezers and see if we can’t fish it out?”


“No. I find it kind of romantic. I even shoved a picture of both Nana and Harry inside. Now they’ll always be together.”


Angela put the vase on the top shelf. “As ugly as it is, it still means something." She checked her hair in the mirror. "Damn, now I wish I hadn’t agreed to that double shift tonight.”


“Better get going. Maybe some guy will give you a million-dollar tip?” She laughed and swatted Angela's butt when she walked by. “Go get em, sis!”


A week later, Angela burst through the door of her room to find her sister poking something metal into the vase. “What in the world are you doing?”

Betty jumped and dropped the vase to the floor. It shattered, but amongst the debris were dozens of folded pieces of paper.


“No!” Angela screamed, falling to her knees.


“It’s okay, Angela. Look,” Betty said as she unfolded the bills. They’re hundreds. Must be $3,000 here. Can you believe it? $3,000! Good riddance old vase, you're rich!”


Angela sank deeper into herself. White as a sheet, she groaned. “How?”


“Sorry, sis. I just had to read Nana's letter. I had a dream about it last night. So I thought I’d fish it out. I didn’t mean to drop the damn thing. But sis, $3,000! You’d never have known it was there!”



Angela handed Betty the letter she’d been holding then put her head in her hands and started sobbing.



Betty took the letter and read it. “Dear Ms. Finney: Your lovely vase bears the mark of the Qianlong Emperor who ruled from 1736 to 1796. We’d have to see the vase in person to make sure it isn’t a replica, but the colors and the appearance have all of us excited."



Betty swallowed, "If you’re interested in placing it in an auction…” Betty’s voice trailed off as the tears began to fall, but she continued in a whisper, “And if it’s original, it could be worth millions.”



“Holy shit!” She threw her arms around her sister. “Forgive me…”

 ***


My inspiration for this story.




700 Words

Yolanda Renée © 2020

***



Read More Stories - Just Follow The Links






Monday, August 14, 2017

WEP - REUNIONS "FIRST LOVE NEVER DIES"


The WEP is all about the prompt

and this month it was

REUNIONS

Did you take the challenge?

Just add your name to the list.

But if you're here just for the stories,

ENJOY!
DL after the name means 'direct link' to the story.







*********

FIRST LOVE NEVER DIES


Mathew taught me how to catch a football, and was Romeo to my Juliette in the school play, my first kiss, and my first love. Mathew became my friend in grade school and my lover in high school. When an opportunity to go to England for college arrived, he insisted I take it. For the first year, we tried maintaining a long-distance relationship but failed.

He met someone else, and I had to let him go. It was only fair. I’d left him. When I came home to bury my parents, I found that he’d not returned after college. No one knew where he was. And then the reunion committee sent out the invitations to our ten-year class reunion. I had to go. He might be there.



He was.

He caught my eye, and it was as though all those years between hadn’t occurred. His smile told me all was forgiven. Still the most handsome man in the room, all muscle, with deep blue eyes, and dark curly locks. He was just as I imagined, unassuming, funny, and sweet. I couldn’t believe I’d ever let him go. I hoped this time it would end differently.

“You never married?” I held his hand in mine. “Me neither.”

“How could I, you were living in another country.” Mathew grinned, and my heart melted.

“You do realize that air travel has been possible since the last century?”

He laughed. “I’m a pilot. I’d better be aware of that fact.”

I was impressed. I knew he graduated with an engineering degree, but I didn’t know he’d learned to fly a plane. “That’s wonderful, congratulations!”

“I’d love to show you the night sky. Would you fly with me?”

“I’d love to. When?”

“Now. I only came to this shindig to see you.” He squeezed my hand. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand for some adventure?”

“More than ready.” Those were the last words we’d said to each other the day he saw me off at the airport for my flight to England. Time stopped. The room disappeared. The music and noise faded as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Long and deep until I was breathless. Just like our last kiss, but this time, we left together.

His Piper Cub climbed into a purple sky with stars lighting the night like millions of shimmering LED lights. It was beautiful and romantic, a view that brought tears to my eyes. We floated through the air. Silent, and comfortable, exchanging sly glances. Emotions were high, the night was filled with possibility, promising passion, and love.

Mathew landed on a patch of land just south a small chalet in the Rocky Mountains.

“I’ve dreamed of bringing you here for years. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, but, where are we?”

“My home away from home. A place where we can have our own private reunion.”

“I’d like that,” I said as we walked hand in hand to his cabin. I was anxious but thrilled. This reunion couldn’t have been sweeter.

The cabin was an A-frame, with a view of the valley below. I assumed a forest surrounded the lake that reflected the stars above, and I imagined the mountains ahead and above us. It was lovely, I couldn’t wait to see it in the morning sunshine.



We went straight to his bed and made love in front of a fire. That night the reunion was physical, sensual, and more satisfying than anything I could’ve imagined.

“Can you stay?” he asked as I lay wrapped in his arms.

“I wish I could. I have an interview Monday morning. The job of a lifetime in Paris. Can you come with me? Is there anything holding you here?”

He pulled me close. “I’ll think on it. Now sleep, morning will be here soon.”

 After several hours, I awoke to a stranger. Mathew had secured me to the bed with handcuffs, blindfolded me, and proceeded to beat me viciously with a leather strap. I cried, screamed, whimpered, and begged him to stop.

He did, but not until my body was a mass of bleeding welts.

“Why? Please tell me why?”

“You made your choice ten years ago. Now I’ve made mine.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Neither did I.” Was all he said.

He left me alone, still handcuffed to the bed posts. Unable to move, I slept, cried, and screamed for release. I don’t know if he was there. Was I alone or was he watching?

That night, he returned. He threw me into the shower then he attacked again. He raped and stabbed me repeatedly. I prayed for death. But the God’s would not release me from hell. I passed out but awoke just as he threw me into a new hell hole. A cellar where women that looked like me had died. I counted ten in my search for safety as a storm broke overhead.

The smell of death was beyond reason, but decaying bodies, loss of blood, and a flooding grave meant the end will come soon. The winds howled, and the rain came down in sheets. Soon it was pouring into the chamber. I knew the grim reaper had lost patience. My blood mixed with the rising water and I wondered how long I could hold my breath.  I laughed instead and watched the water rise. The other bodies began to float in a macabre synchronized fashion as I realized that the man I’ve loved since the age of seven was a serial killer.

I’d created a monster?

***

The memory of that night will never leave me. Especially when Mathew came back for me. He lovingly stitched up my wounds and nursed me back to health.  Now, when he takes a new victim, I clean up the mess.

Mathew still doesn’t believe that I’d never leave him again. But each year he adds length to the chain around my ankle. Someday, I’ll earn his trust.

996/words

Yolanda Renee © 2017


Tuesday, May 3, 2016

PARALLELS HAS ARRIVED!


Enter the realm of parallel universes!

Congratulations
you've won an ebook copy of

Parallels: Felix Was Here!


What if the government tried to create the perfect utopia? Could a society linked to a supercomputer survive on its own? Do our reflections control secret lives on the other side of the mirror? Can one moment split a person’s world forever?

Exploring the fantastic, ten authors offer incredible visions and captivating tales of diverse reality. Featuring the talents of L.G. KeltnerCrystal CollierHart JohnsonCherie ReichSandra CoxYolanda RenéeMelanie SchulzSylvia NeyMichael Abayomiand Tamara Narayan.

Hand-picked by a panel of agents and authors, these ten tales will expand your imagination and twist the tropes of science fiction. Step through the portal and enter another dimension!


Print

Ebook
 Kobo


Release date: May 3, 2016
$14.95 USA, 6x9 Trade paperback, 218 pages, Freedom Fox Press
Science Fiction/General ( FIC028000) and Fiction/Alternative History (FIC040000)
Print ISBN 978-1-939844-19-4 eBook ISBN 978-1-939844-20-0
Order through Ingram, Follett Library Resources, or from the publisher
$4.99 EBook available in all formats

“Pensive and manifold views into parallel earth not without a glimmer of hope.”
- Edi’s Book Lighthouse


Founded by author Alex J. Cavanaugh, the Insecure Writer’s Support Group offers support for writers and authors alike. It provides an online database, articles and tips, a monthly blog posting, two Facebook groups, and a monthly newsletter.

 

Freedom Fox PressA division of Dancing Lemur Press, L.L.C.
P.O. Box 383, Pikeville, NC 27863-0383
inquiries@dancinglemurpressllc.com
www.dancinglemurpress.comwww.dancinglemurpress.com


Monday, March 7, 2016

THE SEVENTEEN

from the  IWSG Anthology


Is here to discuss the background of her story!


Hi Hart, tell us how you arrived at The Seventeen?


The Seventeen is a count. Pharmagna is a pharmaceutical giant who had a pool of hundreds of (mostly homeless) people on whom they tested various medications. There are seventeen of them left, all riddled with side effects of the drugs they've tested. Cecily Daiker, a researcher for Pharmagna, is responsible for their day-to-day welfare, and for managing them during trials. The title is also a nod to Justin Cronin. In The Passage there is a group of twelve death row inmates who are subject to a drug trial meant to make them immortal (and it works too well—the series is a sort of sci fi version of a vampire story) but he calls them The Twelve (that is the extent of the story similarities, but there you have it).

A sound plan! Here's Hart's blurb:





Cecily Daiker is keeper of the Seventeen--the survivors Pharmagna houses after a decade of drug trials which were unregulated, subjects unprotected and un-cared-for.

Until Cecily.


But now a drug is being proposed to undo the wrongs of past drugs, Within limits, of course. And Cecily is assigned to oversee the trial. What nobody says is that the newly tested drug may have unanticipated consequences. Not just for the Seventeen, but for everybody. And it is Cecily's job to contain the danger.

***

Sounds frightening, especially as I'm testing a new drug. Hmm...

So, tell us Hart, what other genres do you normally write?


Mostly mystery and suspense. Some adult, some YA. Some of the YA has a light dose of paranormal (ghosts or visions—stuff I believe some people really do experience). And the genre I seem to be most in love with of late is near-term dystopia... the world falling apart. I love the extremes that extreme circumstances can bring out in people. What I've published to date is a cozy mystery series under the pen name Alyse Carlson and a flu apocalypse trilogy as me.



Hart Johnson is a social scientist by day, and plots murder and the apocalypse when the sun goes down. She has published a flu conspiracy trilogy (A Shot in the Light) and a cozy mystery series under the name Alyse Carlson. She has hopes to eventually support herself writing or take over the world, whichever works out first.
If you'd like to learn anything more, I can be found at the following places:


Amazon 




Thanks, Hart!

I think you've hit the nail on the head - 

the world is falling apart!


Just using the upcoming election as an example

of  possible

stories for near-term dystopia stories are countless.


What do you think folks?



Parallels is Coming May 3, 2016

Preorder HERE



Monday, February 15, 2016

THROUGH SHADES OF GRAY

Hi, All,

Today I am honored to be featured at my good friend, Renee’s blog. This past year has been a whirlwind with rehabbing my new loft, moving, and now a new four-month-old puppy. Life certainly is hectic, but I am finally back on track with focusing more on writing and editing. Two things I actually LOVE to do.

Last month I was asked to submit a short story to an amazing anthology published by Stay Classy publications. 


THE THING THAT TURNED ME. 

I am honored to be included in this prestigious publication. Many of my blogger friends will also be featured. Such talent! The lineup is star-studded!

Authors, S.K. Anthony, Imani Allen, Michelle Athy, Madalyn Beck, Diane Carlisle, Alex J. Cavanaugh, Crystal Collier, Cathrina Constantine, Tonja Drecker, Deanie Humphys-Dunne, Sherry Ellis, Elise Fallson, Heather Gardner Samantha Geary, Misha Gerrick, Krystal Hillman, Celeste Holoway, Harper L. Jameson, Randi Lee, Terrance Dwane Mack, K.D. Martin, Tyrean Mathinson, Melissa Maygrove, Nana Prah, Christine Rains, Melanie Shultz, Elizabeth Seckman, Tara Tyler, Michelle Wallace, L. Diane Wolfe, and Roland Yeomans…

Imagine all this talent in ONE anthology… The cover is stunning, the trailer amazing, and the writing off the charts!

A few years ago, I started my business, Michael Di Gesú Presents for the purpose of creative editing. I've created blurbs and taglines for such amazing writers as Yolanda Renée, Denise Covey, Julie Flanders, and Michelle Wallace, just to name a few,  and now, my story, THROUGH SHADES OF GRAY will be published. Words can’t describe how incredibly happy I am to be featured in such a wonderful debut. The title says it all!
What turned you?

In life, there is always that ONE EVENT that changes your life. It could be anything and it is something every human being experiences. Even though my story is a work of fiction, it is loosely based on one of my own experiences. If I may, I’d like to share the first page from THROUGH SHADES OF GRAY. As most of you know, I'm hired for my atmospheric description and how to incorporate it into your works.

This story certainly features my signature trademark of setting the scene… I hope you enjoy it.

Charcoal skies face me on yet another frigid morning. Haunting, like a shroud suffocating the dormant sunrise. Amber street lights reflect in the crystalline sheath, entombing my buried car.
A high pitched bleep breaks the deafening silence.
As I pry the door open, the fragile layer cracks with a loud snap and the surface creates an intricate web of golden threads. My stiff body folds behind the steering wheel and a moment later, the engine roars to life.
I drive down the skeletal tree-lined street, edging Lincoln Park. The brittle, elongated fingers of barren trees seem to wave an eerie goodbye. The road is slick, but I’m ready for my escape back to light.
How could I have let those brightly lit days set without one note of appreciation for so many years. Heather skies, cotton-balled clouds, and mild trade winds caressed the tranquil sea. But without her, the sunshine dimmed, and it was time to move on.
Little did I know how much the north had changed. No longer did the bright summer days last forever. Overcast skies now dominated the plains and what little light present struggled to break through the mass of clouds.

Mood plays a huge part in this particular story. Here, the city represents the feelings of the MC as he escapes the frozen north. Many of us can relate to this especially this time of year!
The anthology will be released sometime in mid year. I will keep you all posted.
 ******

Thank you, Renee for featuring me today. It was a real pleasure! 



After fifteen years of modeling in New York, I spent the past eleven years as an interior designer in Chicago. I decided to take my creative talents and write/illustrate my first m/g novel, Amber and the Whispering Willows. A year later, I wrote The Blinded Gardener, an edgy y/a contemporary. I never knew how wonderful it could be to write novels ... I'm addicted!


Thank you, Michael!
Congratulations on the Anthology, The Thing That Turned Me, and your story, Through Shades of Gray

Michael barely mentioned his business Writing Art & Design. He does an amazing job with taglines, blurbs, and introducing your novel to the world. But he also does an even more astounding job designing covers. Here are just two.




Need help with design or writing those short taglines and blurbs? 
Need to come up with a design or logo for that new business?
Consider giving Michael a call. 
He truly is a magic man! 
Learn more by following these links:

Michael Di Gesu Presents
Writing Art & Design





Monday, January 25, 2016

WITNESS


Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner is hosted by Roger Shipp. A weekly writing challenge designed for both the flash fiction newbie and the more experienced writer. An opportunity to clear the cobwebs from a more tedious and involved project. Please consider joining this new and growing writer’s community. It might be just what the doctor ordered to rejuvenate your writing juices.
These weekly challenge can now be found on TWITTER and on FACEBOOK. Check us out there.
This challenge is open until 11:00 pm Thursday night, January 28th, 2016.

  • The word limit is 200 wordsI've chosen to keep my contributions to 100 words.
  • There is also a first sentence prompt with each photograph. This time the sentence was "Enough is enough."I ignored the first sentence this time. My story went in a whole other direction.
  • Each flash fiction piece should have a clear beginning, middle, and end. No serial stories. It is harder to stay abreast of a serial story. (Please keep content PG-13.)
  • Please post the picture and remember the copyright.
  • Post your flash fiction response by clicking on THIS LINK. Follow the given directions.
  • Please give feedback – all participants appreciate your reaction to their work.
Posted on January 22, 2016 by rogershipp


WITNESS

"Blue and white tennis shoes," She whispered, as memories poured forth. "Jeans, light blue shirt."

"Go on."

Jenny sighed but put all her strength into answering. "Red eyes."

"Bloodshot?"

"No. Blood red pupils."

Detective Samples shook his head as he recorded her words. "Tell me about his hair?"

"Shoulder length, black, and wavy." Jenny grimaced.

He knew she was in pain, but he couldn't delay his questions. "Anything else?"

Her eyes widened. Her voice shook. "His fangs were bright white."

Jenny lost consciousness. The machines alarmed.

Detective Samples stepped back as doctors and nurses rushed in.

Fangs? She said fangs!

100 words
Yolanda Renee © 2016

*****
*****

UPCOMING EVENTS YOU DON'T

 WANT TO MISS:

























The 2016 A to Z Challenge
Sign-up Begins today!







This year I'm participating and I'll be one of the Ninja Minions!