Balthazar limped into the kitchen, sniffing the floor for crumbs. His paw was still aching. He was still starving. And Willem hadn’t come home last night. After two rounds around the kitchen floor and one squeeze in between the chairs to check under the table, Balthazar went out the doggie door.
Nose to the ground, he began to sniff.
Crack! Continue reading
It was all Professor Slogar’s fault. She’s the one who invited Angel to the damn party. It didn’t matter she would’ve crashed anyway to continue spying on her next victim, but as a crashee she never would’ve indulged in a glass of the very delicious, definitely non-Nyquil tasting punch or five. And now Mum has taken her knife kit! And her bone saw! Continue reading
*cough* Cousin Mordecai couldn’t remember a more exciting event. *cough, cough* Not even this plaguing cough would get him down. The Will-It-Never-Cease-Snowing Dance was tonight!! And Willamina, his one true love, would be in attendance. He’d been practicing the Macarena all day. Tonight she’d finally look at him without disgust. *cough* Continue reading
Everywhere I look lately it seems writers are using beautiful photographs as writing prompts. Though I admire the images and most of them end up as my screen saver pictures, they fail to jog my creativity. The magnificent landscapes, people in masks, or birds catching bugs don’t jive with my story. Now if bloggers posted pictures of decapitated bodies in the midst of bursting into dust or a pale, lifeless human lying in a dirty alley with a two-inch cut on the side of her neck, that would totally rock as writing prompts! Continue reading