Less than five thousand words away from the minimum NaNoWriMo word count, Ask’s story is wrapping up, and it’s starting to look like another is beginning to take form– possibly something for Camp NaNo in either June or August. Read the rest of this entry »
Tag Archives: fear
We met in a bar. My friends dragged me to the dark building, lit with rustic light bulbs instead of diffused-beam lighting system. When I asked the bar worker, he said the owner had a stockpile from back when bulbs were viable, and he hated to waste money.
The light from the bulbs was fuzzy, and as my friends dragged me from the bar to a table, I spotted her. Read the rest of this entry »
Red, painted lips pressed against the infant’s head, and his mother rose and turned from the still child and left the darkened room. Her quiet voice hummed a lullaby her own mother used to sing to her, and she walked to her own bedroom to get dressed for work.
Her uniform was already clean and laid out. She checked her purse to make certain it had all she needed, and then began to change. A kiss on her shoulder told of her husband’s arrival. She turned to look at him and smiled at him. “Mind helping me change?” Her wink was flirtatious, and he smiled back at her as he zipped her bright red tube top into place over her chest. It was a struggle against her large breasts. Read the rest of this entry »
As I wandered through the maze on my way home, I was having trouble keeping ahead of the patrolling stoneguard. I clenched my spray bottle of circuit disruptor liquid in my hand, one finger straight out, ready to squeeze down should anything come too close. Several times, only my reflexes saved me.
One touch– that was all it took– one touch and I would be dead– so dead. Super dead. Nobody would ever find me again– that kind of dead. I took a deep breath as I approached the end of the labyrinth. The split went four ways– three wide hallways and a simple double-door-sized doorway. No doors. Read the rest of this entry »