Not My Call – Story Snippet

She held the little life in her hands, desperately hoping that anything she was doing was helping it to live just a little longer.

“Just a little longer,” she muttered as she cleaned and bandaged what she could, trying to clear the airways in the nostrils for more air, “Don’t die on me, please don’t die on me.”

A tiny heartbeat fluttered as rasping sounds were heard though they too were almost silent.

Hands worked as quickly and gently as possible and heads were bowed in prayer.

This is one more little life that she is not going to lose.

But in the end, she knows that this isn’t her call to make.

Raining Inside

It was never intended to go like this.

Lights flashed and horns honked. The sounds of people surging up all around you almost drown out the breaking of a heart.

But not quite, because nothing can drown out what you hear from your own chest as he turns and walks away for the final time.

He was never one to do things lightly and you knew that when you went into this. You’d thought that your eyes had been wide open.

Just like you thought that he’d stay.

I guess you got a lot of things wrong with this one. Like letting some guy into your heart when you knew better. Just because he’d been so different from every other boy that you’d ever met. Just because he’d actually stood up for against friends and family, people that had been in his life long before you. Just because he’d been understanding without being a pushover.

Just because he was everything that you wanted and you were everything that he had wanted.

Well, thought he’d wanted.

Obviously you weren’t really what he’d wanted.

Or, at least you’re not what he wants now.

So your heart is broken and he’s long since walked away.

The sky is clear, the sun is up, everything looks beautiful and bright and hopeful.

If only it wasn’t raining in your heart.

It Starts Slowly – Snippet

“Hold onto me!”

“I’m doing the best I can!”

“Well, it’s not good enough!”

He leaned back against the canyon wall as the pair of rock climbers continued to argue above him. Neither was in any kind of danger nor were they particularly upset with one another. They just seemed to enjoy arguing about every little thing.

It irritated him.

These people just going about wherever they wanted to go without any care or regard for the natural order of things.

It wasn’t natural for people to be hanging off the side of a canyon, being held up by a collection of ropes and hooks. They certainly shouldn’t have time or energy to bicker back and forth at each so often, as if this was nothing more than a game to them.

(He doesn’t realize that his hand is slowly glowing with an absence of light with every negative thought or complain he has about the people above him.)

Not-So-Different Reality – Snippet

Love hurts, love scars.


Every time she turned to look at her husband, his heart cried. He never let it show on his face.

That was the trouble with going to alternate realities. You find that your wife is married to someone else.

Even if that someone else is wearing your own face.

I don’t know where-

Okay. I totally know where this came from. I will deny it to anyone who asks, though.

It’s A Start

‘…as though he held out little hope for a change.’


But he still held even that little sliver of hope and though despair clouded his mind, his heart knew, in one little corner, that it wasn’t the end.

Of course it was going to take an awful lot of work to get that little bit of embryonic hope to grow into something more substantial, but everyone’s got to start somewhere.

Love Beget Hate

You catch yourself wishing that the person you loved had never existed to spare yourself the pain. –Ras Al Ghoul, Batman Begins


Every moment of every day he hated her.

The fall of her hair, the turn of her cheek as she smiled and the light that it brought to her eyes; he hated every. Single. Bit. Of. It.

Even the part about how happy she looked in the arms of that other man.

Or the child that was growing under her heart.

He cared not for the fact that he had never made a move for her, never done anything to show that he loved her or wanted anything more than her friendship.

Still, that did not stop the anger and hatred that continued to grow within his heart.

No, this is not the Illusion Master. Don’t worry.

Also, not where I thought I was going to go with this initially.

The More Things Change…

The patterns of life vary

Live, die

Dirty, clean

Fight, negotiate

Work, play

Simple patterns that you see every day


She was walking along, not really paying too much attention to what was going on around her. Not that unusual in this day and age, was what she often reassured her father whenever he called, worried at the constant distractions that bombarded her life.

“I’ll be fine, Dad.”

“Sweetie, I really worry about this.”

“I know, I know, but this is just the way life is.”

“It didn’t use to be like this.”

“Dad, yes it did.”

“We weren’t checking our phones every five or ten seconds, darling.”

“Just because the distraction themselves have changed doesn’t mean that the reality of them has.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“I’m not pushing the wedding back any further, Dad.”

“I just don’t want you to overload yourself with school and work and now this wedding!”

She gave an exasperated sigh, “I know how to prioritize, Dad. You taught me that. I’ll be fine. You always were.”

He chuckled over the line and nodded, though she wouldn’t be able to see it, “Even when I was running around trying to find my tie and cuff-links?”

“Especially then, Dad!”

This little story was inspired by the Dungeon Prompt: Patterns. Sorry for it’s lateness!

You’re Not Here Next To Me

It began the way all things began, with a wish and a prayer and a hand stretched out.

It ended the way some things end as well, with a wish and a scream and a hand stretched out.

But the middle, oh the middle, was where most of it was, where most of it still is, truth be told. And it is the middle that I am writing about and you are reading.

Life was good.

No, that sounds trite.

Life was excellent.

That still doesn’t sound quite right.

Life just was.

There, that sounds better.

They had a little home, a place where he would come to after a long day’s hard work and where she would spend the day working on things at home. She raised a garden that he helped to plant and she tended to the chickens that he brought home and gathered the eggs every evening for the next day. During the evenings he would work on mending by the firelight and she’d practice her reading skills and basic arithmetic. Sometimes he’d have to set the mending aside and help her when she ran into a word or problem that was harder than the others.

And so life went on for them. They weren’t rich and they weren’t poor. They were somewhere in between and that was good enough for them.

And then, on a day like any other for this couple, everything changed.

Peace in Passing

The sound of her steps echoed throughout the hall, though it was not made of marble nor the cold stone of the earth. It was wood, though less warm than the mahogany color would indicate. The lamps were lit, the soft glow of fire dancing over the wick casting shadows and illusions round about even after she had passed. Painted faces gazed down, somber expressions knowing and empty while she strove to ignore them just the same.

She was alone and yet with almost a hundred eyes upon her each day she wondered how that could truly be. The paintings of those long since passed her only companions inside the bleak future that they had once fought so long and hard for.

“It will be worth it, if only to let them have a moment to breathe!”

“We do not fight for ourselves, but for the children!”

“I hold no hope for myself, but must gift it to others for my time draws near its end.”

Shades and memories of words and actions, deeds and beliefs followed in her wake as surely as her own shadow, warped though the candlelight may make it.

It was a silent world, though the wind blew and the rain fell and the snow gently drifted down. Animals scurried here and there and the sounds of birds and insects were ever present.

It was silent because there were no beings of higher sentience upon the once desolated and overpopulated planet.

She had desired peace for all and in the end there was peace for all but one.

Death is the final passing.


Have no idea where that came from. This was supposed to end differently than it did, but once it was done I couldn’t rewrite it.

This was inspired by the Dungeon Prompt: Desire. Sreejit, I am sorry this one was so depressing.


Sometimes I wonder just how we got here, after all it’s not like we were here in the first place. This planet is so green and blue, like a multi-colored marble full of life that doesn’t seem to exist on other planets.

I know that we are from somewhere else, because there is nothing to show that we were here for the same extended length of time as the other more natural species that we’ve carefully catalogued. There is evidence of other sentient life-forms on this planet, but wherever they are at this point in time is unknown to us. The cities that were here before us are large and grand looking even with the damage that time and weather has done, but they are empty of any sentient life.

I wish, more than anything sometimes it seems, that I knew just how we got here. It drives me mad even as I’m directed to another site to excavate and learn about the native species that once lived here. I will find the answer to my question (how did we get here? Where did the natives go?) Someday and I will not rest until I do.

Yeah…I have no idea where this story came from. It just popped out of my fingers and onto the keyboard.