Hi All…


I came across another writing prompt. This one is a little more open ended then the others have been. Tell me what do you think of this one? BTW, fiction cookies for those of you that recognize the qoute at the end! 🙂 As always Happy Reading!


“What the hell,” I shouted as a foreign noise woke me. As I surprised my kitten, Amaya, she let out a low snarl. That revving motor and the smell of freshly cut, damp grass were beginning to turn my world on its axis once more. For what seemed to forever, silence had ruled supreme on my planet.

Roughly three months ago the world around me had gone silent and dark. I had woken up close to noon and not a single soul could be found. For some reason I was left behind to witness the collapse of our once peaceful planet.

Since that day I had watched graceful spiral towers of gleaming metal collapse from windstorms. Marble mansions were no match for the fires that consumed them. The only company I had through this silent, nightmarish ordeal was that of my Bengal kitten, Amaya.

On that tense first day of silence I found Amaya in the rubble of the zoo. Amaya’s spotted tan and black fur was in stark contrast to the stone grey walls that she was surrounded by. She was the only animal there. From that day on we had been constant companions.

During the day we would fish and gather greens for food. Amaya had helped greatly when it came time to collect fire wood to keep us warm. In the evenings after we ate our fill of fish stew Amaya would hop up on my little bed and snuggle next to me. Her warmth had kept me toasty and cozy on the cool nights.

Now something was beginning to change again. I cautiously crawled out from under my covers to peer out the bedroom wind. Amaya quickly took my recently vacated spot as she went back to sleep. There was another living soul here! How was this possible? Better yet, where did he come from?

Deciding to take a risk I pulled on my fuzzy duck slippers and tattered robe. The robe was in no better shape than the sweat pants and shirt that I slept in, but any modesty was better than none. As I made my way to the back door I was grateful for the cardboard that covered the broken window panes. Carefully I pulled the back door open, praying it wouldn’t creak and alert whoever was cutting the grass.

I slowly walked down the rickety wooden stairs of my back porch and timidly approached the mower. When I reached the old property line I stopped and waited for the man to turn his mower off and acknowledge me. As a child I had learned never to interrupt or approach someone using power equipment.

After that fateful, silent day I never thought that I would have to use lessons from my youth.

It took almost a half hour for the man to look up from his task and wave at me with a cheery smile. I felt my face pale with shock as I recognized the mowing man. It was old man Thorne Crestingwaters. As a child I remember him winning contests for his flowerbeds. His yard had always been a lush green that he mowed in flower shapes. Seeing how overgrown his beds were Thorne had to be upset.

With a beaming smile on his face Thorne walked up cheerfully greeting, “Hello, Ivy! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

As I stared at Thorne in confusion my emotions must have shown on my face. I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before asking, “Where’d you go? What’s going on,” I asked anxiously.

Mr. Crestingwaters gave me a funny look before informing me, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ivy. We’ve been looking for you for months now.”

I shook my head vigorously in denial. This wasn’t right. “Mr. Crestingwaters, I’ve been here the whole time. The entire city has been silent. I tried turning on the television only to find out that they whole world was gone. No other people were around, as for animals the only one I could find was my kitten, Amaya.

“In the last three months buildings have crumbled and glass windows have blown out. Lawns have become overgrown beds of weeds and vines,” I finished hysterically.

Mr. Crestingwaters cocked his head as he tried to calm me, “Ivy it’s all right.”

“No, it’s not! Yours is the first motor I have heard in three months! Look around you Mr. Crestingwaters!”

I could tell Mr. Crestingwaters was starting to believe me when he looked at the lawns surrounding his. The only one that looked halfway decent was mine. The only reason it was well trimmed is because I used the old push mower in my garage to keep it that way.

When people had first disappeared I found that I couldn’t handle the noise of machines very well. Every time I would try to start the gas mower I started to shake and convulse. I’m not the type who can live in a jungle wasteland so I pulled out the push mower and had taken care of the yard that way ever since. It had proven to be a very therapeutic action for me. My panic attacks lessened every time I mowed.

I watched as Mr. Crestingwaters face went from confusion to horrorified. “This doesn’t make sense. I just saw Hollis and Agave this morning!” Mr. Crestingwaters had the most adorable grandchildren.

As Mr. Crestingwaters began to panic I saw a lightning bolt split the sky in two. Before I could think to jump a deep rumbling clap of thunder roared through our little valley. As surprising as the thunder and lightning were, what followed next was even more so.

For the first time in months the streets and sidewalks were crammed full of people old and young! All of them looking disoriented and scared. Within moments a baby started to wail. That small child let off a screech that set off a symphony of noise the world over.

As I stood there in amazement I felt a soft nudge on my calf. I looked down to see the spotted furry form of Amaya. Even though I was shaking I bent down to pick her up. This many people was bound to frighten her – it did me.

As the noise from the crowd rose I slowly pet Amaya and said, “Amaya, I’ve a feeling we’re not alone anymore.”


Old Ladies on the Run…


I ran across a prompt and came up with this. It’s less than a thousand words. What do you think. As always, enjoy!

Old Ladies on the Run.


A sterile room smelled of antiseptic. Faded flowers decorated walls and threadbare carpet lined the floor.  Round laminated tables were scattered about the room. Some tables were occupied and others weren’t. Under a flickering fluorescent light three white heads sat huddled around a laminated table whispering fervently back and forth. “Alcmene, what are we to do? It’s all over the news! They’ll find us,” one white head whispered frantically.

Alcmene raised her sharp brown eyes and replied, “We run, Drusilla.” Alcmene’s brittle voice was steady. As was her mind.

The third woman snorted before retorting, “In case the two of you forgot, we’re 90 years old in wheelchairs. We’re not going to get far.”

Alcmene rolled her eyes before replying, “Would you rather we stayed here and get caught, Henrietta?”

“Not particularly. I don’t fancy spending what little life I have left behind bars for doing what needed to be done,” Henrietta explained. Her pale blue eyes reflected the bare bones honesty in her statement.

“None of us do,” Drusilla whimpered.

With a huff Alcmene snapped, “Quit whimpering, Drusilla. We’re leaving and they won’t find us.”

“That’s what you said sixty-five years ago! Now look what happened! The police tore down your house and found the body,” Henrietta snapped at her long-time friend.

Drusilla whimpered at the harsh tone from Alcmene.

“Enough with your tears, Drusilla. We have to hurry if we want to leave before the police arrive with a shiny pair of bracelets for us,” Alcmene snapped.

“She has a point, Alcmene. We live in a nursing home. It’s not going to be hard for the cops to track us down,” Henrietta forcefully put in.

“It’s a private nursing home Henrietta. We’re safe for a couple of hours. Besides, we’re on the ground floor and our chairs are motorized,” Alcmene impatiently reminded her two cohorts.

“We won’t get far,” Drusilla whispered as tears started to fill her pale green eyes.

Alcmene smirked as she assured her friends, “You leave that to me. I called Ajax two years ago for modification on our chairs. All we have to do is make it out the front door and we can take these chairs on the freeway.”

At the mention of Ajax, Drusilla smiled dreamily. With a lusty look in her pale green eyes Drusilla asked, “Such a strapping lad, that Ajax. He has proven to be the only good thing Salvatore gave us. Why didn’t you tell us you called him?”

Alcmene shrugged her shoulders as she stated, “Pack your overnight bags, girls. We’re going on a trip.” The excited light in all of their eyes couldn’t be missed. They hadn’t left this nursing home in over a decade. The old ladies were looking forward to this adventure.

Twenty minutes later each woman had a bag and was parked in front of a door labeled back garden. Each of them had a floral backpack on their seat backs. The back garden had the only unlocked door in the facility and on occasion the orderlies would let them sit in peace amongst the flowers. All they had to do was wait for someone to open the door.

After a few moments a burly male nurse came over and greeted, “Good afternoon ladies! Would you like to enjoy the sunshine for a bit?”

Alcmene nodded her head once as she smiled and answered, “Thank you Julian. The weather is so pleasant today. The sun hitting the flowers reminds me of my garden.” Henrietta and Drusilla giggled at Alcmene’s reasoning. Alcmene’s garden had always been the one place they could hide their secrets.

Julian smiled at the three elderly ladies as he punched in the key code. As the sun filtered through the door the ladies smiled brightly. Once the door closed behind them the ladies slowly rolled to the wrought iron gate that surrounded the garden.

Henrietta looked both ways while Alcmene slowly opened the gate hoping to avoid a squeak that would give them away. Once the gate was open the ladies exited the grounds of the nursing home in a single file.

As they went down the sidewalk the ladies slowly began to talk about the reason for this trip.

“I hate that man. Even after sixty five years he haunts us,” Alcmene grumbled.

“Tell me about it. It’s almost like his ghost doesn’t believe that he earned his dark fate,” Henrietta agreed.

“His actions were almost barbaric. Really! Marrying all three of us? Salvatore had to know that we were going to catch on,” Drusilla put in. Talking about what Salvatore had done always stopped Drusilla’s whimpering. Those actions were the one thing that straightened her spine in righteous indignation.

The mere mention of Salvatore had both Alcmene and Henrietta frowning in anger. Before either of them could comment, the geriatric trio heard the piercing sirens of a cop car. Simultaneously the old women reached up to their ears and turned their hearing aids down.

Henrietta and Drusilla turned to look at Alcmene. Alcmene gestured for the other two women to lift the plastic plate on their arm rests. Underneath those plates was a flat red button. When Alcmene pushed the button her wheelchair roared to life.

In under three seconds Alcmene went from sitting with her friends to being halfway down the block with a smile on her wrinkly face. Her wheelchair roared like a motorcycle. When Henrietta and Drusilla saw how fast Alcmene went, devious smiles formed in the crags of their faces.

Without a care in their aged minds the two women followed Alcmene’s lead. As the wind whipped through their white hair the three women zoomed down one street and then another. They took the corners on two wheels. Throughout their daring ride broad smiles never left their lined faces.

Musings of a Dragon


This piece was written for a challenge. I’m not sure but I think the dragon is young and the Princess is either insane or morbid. Either way I don’t think she is going anywhere.

The Dragon who Rescued the Princess from the Prince.

Silly princes. They really have no clue. Daily they come with their sharp swords and swift horses to try and win the hand of my princess in her stone castle. They never will though. The Pretty Princess with the fiery hair doesn’t want them. All she wants is to be left to her library of scrolls. Why I don’t know, but what the Pretty Princess wants the Pretty Princess gets. Even if it doesn’t taste all that good to me.

The Dark King and Blonde Queen don’t know that. My fiery haired princess doesn’t want them to know. She said that if her parents find out than they will burn her scrolls. That would make the princess cry. I don’t want to see my flame haired friend cry.

She doesn’t have scales to protect her from the evil Princes or the Sour King and Queen. So I will protect her. My scales are green and gold. They are as hard as a diamond and sharp as razors. I have ripped many a prince to shreds with my talons that dared to try and see the Princess.

I think I saw the Princess laugh at the last Prince. Her bright hair matches the fire I breathe. I wonder what the Princess meant when she asked if I wanted ketchup at the next Prince roasting. Would ketchup make the Princes and their furry ponies taste better?

I don’t know. Maybe the Princess will bring some for me to try out? Sometimes she does bring me treats. Last week the Princess had the rancher down the road bring me a cow. I love beef. Especially when it’s still moving. Although I could do without the fur, it sticks when I roast them.

I admit that the fur is easier to deal with than the metal shirts that the Princes wear. Sometimes it tastes like they are boiled instead of roasted. They taste better roasted. Sadly there isn’t enough meat on the Princes heads, so I usually leave the heads in the river that floats into the other kingdoms.

The Princess saw me drop the head of a prince once while I was flying and she said that it served him right. My fiery Princess said that if they can’t learn their lesson then I can eat as many of them as I want. Since the Princess doesn’t want to meet any of the Princes that means I can eat them all.

I think I hear the hooves of my next dinner. The Princess is smiling from her tower, that means that I can go eat now.

Peace in the Rain…


This is a short theme piece, I thought you might enjoy. This was written to relax. Let me know what you think.


The earth has a way about it when it is to rain. The air becomes humid and the temperatures drop as nature once again tries to cleanse itself. I see people rushing away from the water as quickly as it can carry them. Others meander slowly through the pre-rain drizzles. Others still shut their windows tight so as to block out the greying clouds, and flashes of lightening. Some even jump at the clang of thunder. But not me.

Personally I walk, run, dance, and spin around in circles as the water pours freely from the sky. I raise my face so that I can catch every drop of water as it falls on my face. I breathe the damp air in as if it will be my last breath. I embrace the chaotic winds of the blowing storm. Because I know what it brings.

You ask why I walk in the rain and the answer is simple. It’s the only place I can think. You ask why I dance in the rain. It’s because the rain is where I am free. I sit in the rain because it washes my troubles away. But most of all I like the rain because I find peace in the rain.