Irish Vampires

What happens when the wee people turn into vampires? Another Scary Suspense Theater presentation. Don't watch this at night or when you're alone. Keep the garlic handy.

What's in Your Package?

What could be in a box four feet on the sides and six feet high? What did I order and forget about? And how could I forget something that big?

Oh, of course, Hazel probably ordered something. She’s always ordering stuff we don’t need. Hey, maybe it’s that TV for the bedroom, the one with the six foot screen. Okay, maybe five foot screen. The box is only six feet and I have to allow for the packaging. But why so fat? Maybe two or three TVs? A TV and computer and… and… and… I don’t know. Electronics for the spare bedroom?

Where is Hazel anyway? She should have been home an hour ago. More importantly, where’s that box knife? Hunting knife will do. In the kitchen drawer. No, not in the drawer. Where did I leave my hunting knife? Wait, there’s a machete in the garage. Next to the tool box. Not here. On the shelf. No. In a drawer? No.

Okay, Will, where did you leave your sharp weapons? Oh, yeah, I worked on that brush clearing project this morning. Funny how I forgot about that already.

And where is Hazel?

The knives and machete… and oh yeah, the axe… they should be in the trunk of the car along with… with… something I can’t remember. Oh crap, I locked the door to the family room from the garage and the car is out in the driveway. I think I left it out there.

Not to worry. I have my trusty ol’ keys right here… Oh no, they’re in the bedroom. No, I think. Yes. I put them down when I unloaded… what was it I unloaded from the trunk out in the woods this morning? Bloody mess as I recall.

And where the blazes is Hazel?

How am I going to open the door to the family room? Oh. Duh. Maybe I’ll just push this button and open the outside garage door. Funny I didn’t think of that sooner.

Bluejeans and Straw

No matter how much you dress the scarecrow, there’s still nothing to him. He has no brain, no matter how finely dressed. Who is in charge of your brain… and your heart? The tin woodsman, heartless and rusting away? Oz, the fake and powerless? Dorothy, the lost and helpless? The wicked witch, powerful until someone rains on her parade? The good witch, never around when you need her? The flying monkeys, loyal until someone else comes around? Or…

Dust, Ashes and Old Memories

Have you ever taken a sickle and cut a path through a dense undergrowth of tall weeds, thorn bushes and clinging vines? You can't do it without picking up a few scratches along with some mosquito and spider bites. You also can expect an occasional run in with a poisonous snake. I’ve been a swinger of sickles and it bears a striking resemblance to the work of a fiction writer.

The writer of fiction enjoys exploring the nature of relationships and creating characters out of the dust and ashes of old memories and finding paths through the tangled jungle of the inner self. Who knows where the path leads when we are the creators of the path? Who knows what characters lurk in the darkness waiting for the writer to shine the light of creativity upon them. Better dress for the occasion when you go delving into the secret places of the heart. This is such a place. Welcome!

Oh no! Another Writing Exercise

The first sentence was given. Write three minutes. What did you write? Share your results in the comments section. Or send it to me for posting later. My result…

Their father was one of the landed gentry in a land without gentry. Without fertile land for that matter. What need of land on a rock being mined for its nickel and small quantities of precious metals? Food you import from the bases on the south side of the moon. Landed gentry, hah. Most of them were women and they were company men, or women, as the case may be. Mine supervisors. But we called them landed gentry because they landed first. And they got to take off first at the end of the three-year shift, which now has a mere 13 months, 3 weeks and two days to go. Zelda Zilroy was of the landed gentry. She owned the land I mined with Zorkgrack, my botdrill. Of the two I preferred Zelda, but she was the bossier of the two. Zorkgrack was the better cook. But Zorkgrack in bed is just something I don’t want to think about, especially with Zelda leaning over my shoulder right now.

Road Ends

Who knows why the road ends here? And whatever happened to old Naperville? Folks in these parts know the answer but they'll never tell. Men in black suits come around and then folks go missing. But we're not afraid. This video tells all.

Rediscovering the Ring

The door popped open with a shove from Georgia. She pushed her nose through followed by her cheeks. The rest of her flew into the tiny home thanks to a giant shove from Donna. Donna, always the skinny, size four one, squished herself through the doorway and landed in the teeny hallway that led to a room beyond.

“I said it was a dollhouse.” Donna rubbed her nose.

“Too big. I’m thinking midgets.” Georgia managed to sit up without hitting the ceiling.

“Dwarfs?” Donna crawled into the room at the end of the hall which turned out to be a tiny living room.

“Height challenged.” Georgia plopped on the petite couch leaving no room for Donna to join her.

“Small size advantaged.” Donna sat on the floor and stretched her legs into the dinning room.

“Extinct whoever they were.” Georgia smiled at the row of tiny books on the shelf above Donna’s head.

Donna rubbed her fingers along the mantel. “It’s so eloquently carved.”

Georgia peeked over Donna’s shoulder. “What’s that funny looking ring? Is it gold?”

Donna picked it up and put it on her finger. Immediately she felt her mind blasted by an all pervading eyeball. "Looks harmless."

"Let me see." Georgia reached for the ring.

Donna slapped Georgia's hand away. "Isn't it precious? I think I'll keep it."

The End

Fulfillment is coming. Tell everyone!