Tag Archives: Story

Super Bowl, Pandemic Update, A New Story, The Authors Show: Monday Blog Post

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Newest News:

Reflections of rocks in Watson Lake, Prescott, AZ

Super Bowl Sunday! Did your team win? Did you have a Super Bowl feast? We did, though it was a small feast. Chicken wings, of course, were on the menu. Hubby made some cole slaw to go with it. And because I haven’t had them in years, Cheese Puffs. There were also some cheeses, pepperoni, and crackers to munch on. I didn’t really have a favorite team, though my husband was routing for Kansas City. I mainly watch for the special commercials. Did you have a favorite?

Coronavirus update: Hooray! Friday our county health department posted a notice that starting February 8th, my age group can call in and get appointments for the corona virus vaccine. I’m so pleased! You can bet I’ll be sending in my on-line request as soon as I can on Monday.

Spur of the moment I saw an announcement for a flash fiction contest and the prompt had my mind going full speed. The problem was, I was late night scrolling. I didn’t finish the draft until 1am. Sigh. I was tired all the next day. However, even as late as it was, when I read over the draft, it was pretty good. After editing, I went to the site sponsoring the contest, and submitted it. The magazine is called The Leading Edge, run out of Brigham Young University and my story is called, Think Fast. Cross your fingers for me.

#ReadABook, February 8th, All day!

I’m going to be on The Authors Show on February 8th! Yes, today, on Channel 5. The interview runs all day so you can listen to it on your own time. It only runs on the 8th, so don’t miss it. Go to www.TheAuthorsShow.com, scroll down to February 8th and my name, and click on my book title, Mystery at the Fair, to hear the interview. The whole thing is about 15 minutes long. Enjoy!

Please be careful out there. Weather can turn nasty, accidents can happen, illness can overtake us. Till we can meet in person, stay at home when you can and wear a mask when you go out.

Giveaways:

The Christmas giveaway winners have been announced. The winner of my ebook, Slave Elf, was Terry, and the Amazon Gift card winner was Danielle. A big round of applause to them.

New, is the Valentine’s Day giveaway. This is a small one with just eight authors so there’s a $24 Grand Prize of Paypal cash and 16 other prizes. Check out the link at https://conniesrandomthoughts.com/giveaways-and-prizes/ to enter.

Where will I Be?

My interview with Linda Thompson of The Authors Show is on Monday, February 8th. It runs all day on The Author’s Show, Channel 5, but it’s one day only so go to the website and have a listen.

I have my interview with Brenda Whiteside on Wednesday March 3rd on her blog, https://brendawhiteside.com/blog

On May 13th at 2pm Arizona time, I’ll be on the podcast with Laurie Fagan on her show, AZ Creates. It’s a lovely podcast and as soon as I have the link for my interview, I’ll put it up. In the meantime, enjoy her show at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teajmtQ4-90&feature=youtu.be. Note, Karen Landau is a mystery author right here in my town! How great is that!

Newsletter Sign Up:

Click here to sign up for my newsletter. I’ve put sign-up gifts on the regular and the SciFi/Fantasy and the Cozy Mystery newsletter sign-ups. That’s right. If you sign up for my newsletter you get a free story from me. Be prepared for fun and contests! Click on the video link for a short video from me. Hear what I’m working on. Join my “A” Team to be the first to read my books and hear what new books are coming. Don’t forget to follow my blog, too. Different material goes in the blog as in the newsletter. You can share both, so spread the word!

Newest Releases:

Creature in the Night, a short Halloween, Winter Solstice, Christmas, Fantasy story has been published. It is up on Amazon, in Kindle Unlimited or for purchase at $.99. You can also see all my books on https://conniesrandomthoughts.com/my-books-and-other-published-work/. If you’ve read any of my books, please drop a short, honest, review on the site where you bought it or on Goodreads or BookBub. Your review is critical to help me promote the books to other readers. Thanks in advance.

Thank you for reading my blog. Like all of the other work I do as an author, it takes time and money. If you enjoy this Monday blog and the Friday free story and the recipe, I put up on the 25th of every month, consider donating to https://www.paypal.me/ConniesRandomThought. I appreciate any donation to help support this blog.

The Party: Chapter 9 – Stacy Zimmer – Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Yes, this is political. I offer you trigger warnings for language and sexual and racist slurs and comments. Future episodes may also contain rape, abuse, and other unpleasant things.

Chapter 9: Stacy Zimmer

Stacy Zimmer opened the newspaper that had been left behind by someone as she sat in her local coffee shop. She’d chosen a table in the back. She couldn’t bring herself to sit anywhere else in the store. A view of the entire place was in front of her with no windows or doors behind. She felt better that way. Less chance for error. She hated errors. That’s what got people killed. She knew that from experience. Lots of experience. But that was past, she reminded herself. Past. It was over. She was home. No need to be defensive.

The barista called her name and she jumped. Stacy sucked in a breath. No problem, she told herself. No problem, just coffee. She quickly surveyed the shop, a couple of grandmas, a lone guy on his laptop, two twenty-something women, nothing a threat, she assessed as she slid easily from her chair to walk calmly to the pick-up counter. Nothing to see here. Nothing. Nothing but, she still eyeballed the guy. Suit, laptop and briefcase. Big enough to hold an IED. No, she told herself. This is the States. Nothing here. Nothing here.

Her hand shook the cup of mocha latte as she went back to her table. Nothing. Nothing. It wasn’t working. She felt trapped, here at the back of the store with no way out. She grabbed her backpack and her drink and headed out the door. She was three hundred feet from the shop before she could breathe. Moron, she thought. What the hell? It was just a coffee shop. But that’s not the newsreel that was rolling through her head. That was different. That was the sandbox. That was her and her crew, laughing, taking pics with the local boy selling tea. Tea for Christ’s sake. The boy had called them over. “Tea,” he said, smiling. They’d all laughed. He couldn’t have been more than ten. “Tea, Tea.”

Tears ran down her face unnoticed. God damned tea. She’d never drank it again even though that was her favorite. Her morning ritual. Now it was coffee. She stopped in the park, sat on a bench. Her breathing came back to normal as she popped the sipping port on the coffee. She drank and stretched her back taking a deep breath. It was okay. Not a problem. Just a little scare. Nothing to be worried about.

In the open she felt better, more secure. Daylight, clear lines of sight. Not boxed in. Much better. She took a deep breath. Better. Better. She took a sip of the drink and set it on the bench beside her then took the day’s paper out of her pack. It was good. Read the paper. Drink the coffee. The birds sang in the trees nearby and moms were starting to arrive in the park, their little darlings let out of their carriages and set free to toddle in the grass. Yes. This was fine.

Then Stacy read the third page. The government was taking veteran’s retirement and disability funds to create a wall along every continental U.S. border. All about self-defense, she read. But vet’s payments would be cut by half to solve the discrepancy. Half? HALF? Stacy lept up. She couldn’t live on half. Half wouldn’t pay the rent. Half wouldn’t pay for groceries. Half wouldn’t cover her co-pays for her meds. Even in her mental state, she understood she needed her meds or she’d be worse off than she was now. No. NO!

A mother walked by, stroller in front of her, staring. Stacy realized she was hyperventilating, fists clenched, and teeth bared. She shook herself and tried to smile. The look on the woman’s face made it clear she wasn’t reassuring anyone. She grabbed her pack and stuffed the paper into it as she rushed off.

How can this be, she raged as she raced away from the park? I did my time. I was promised. How can they? How can they?

It was late afternoon when through sheer exhaustion she finally came to herself. She had no idea where she was but realized she was hunkered down behind a building, back of a big trash receptacle. A man sat cross-legged a few feet away.

“Hey.” He gave her a nod from behind another of the big trash bins.

She nodded. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

Stacy drew in a deep breath. Despite having missed her meds schedule, she did feel almost normal. “Yeah. Think so.”

“Afghanistan?”

She nodded.

“Get that myself from time to time.”

She took another deep breath. A fellow soldier. “Yeah.”

“Flashback?”

She looked him over. Old field jacket, unit patch still on the arm. Greasy jeans, tattered sneakers about to fall apart. “Kind of.”

He shrugged. There’s a shelter, if you need it. Not too far from here.

She thought it over. It was almost promising. “You stay there?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Hell no. They’ll slit your throat for your shoes in there.”

She smiled. “Thanks then. I think I’ll pass.”

He nodded. “What set you off, if I may ask?”

“G’ment. Assholes. Taking our pay, our meds.” She still shook. This was too much.

He spit off to the side she wasn’t on. “Assholes.”

She nodded. “They promised.”

“Yeah. They always promise.”

She looked closer. He was grizzled, wrinkled. He was a lot older. “The same?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Same old, same old.” He sighed. “What’cha gonna do about it?”

Stacy blinked. “Do?”

“Yeah. Do. Don’t cha think they’ve about worn out their welcome?”

She ran her fingers through her short brown hair. “Like what?”

“You been readin’ the news the last three years? You think it’s a quirk that it’s just us white soldiers left? Just takin’ our pay? Just throwin’ us away? You’re young. You can do something.”

Stacy stared at him. Do something? Fight back? She didn’t think she had anything left.

He looked at her. “You’ve got the skills.”

She stared back. “So do you.”

Thank you for reading.

Sparky the Spiney Lizard: Flash Fiction Friday Story Post

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Sparky lived in the desert. She liked it there. It was hot and dry and the sun beat down from the sky every day and make her feel all warm and sleepy.

Sparky set off on a trip, one day. She felt the need to find a new home. The one where she grew up was very crowded with her brothers and sisters. So she bid everyone farewell, and began to travel.

She came upon a very nice agave. It was just beginning to send up a flower stalk. The flower bud at the top of the stalk was at least ten times bigger than Sparky. Evening was coming on so she crawled under the lowest leaves and went to sleep.

In the morning, she crawled out, oh so slowly, as her blood was very cool, to lie in the sun. It felt very good there and as she warmed up, she whipped out her long tongue and caught a passing fly. Yum! Breakfast. This is a nice spot, Sparky thought to herself. A nice place to hide and bugs passing by to eat. What else can I ask for?

Sparky explored the area,  A rock wall was a short distance away with a nice flat top for sunning herself and great little cracks between the rocks for hiding if a bird happened to fly overhead. There was wooden fence as well which Sparky climbed. It went up very high but Sparky wasn’t afraid. Her toes had sticky pads and she could hang onto the wood of the wall very well. What surprised her though, was the sight in front of her when she peered over the top.

It was a riot of color and flowers. Sparky had never seen so many flowers in her whole life.

“Hi there.” Suddenly, a giant butterfly flew up from the flowers and hovered in front of the lizard.

Startled, Sparky blinked. “Um. Hi.”

“I’m Indigo,” the butterfly said.

Sparky watched the long lower wings shift and sway with the butterfly’s fluttering. “I’m Sparky,” she finally remembered to say. “What is all that?”

Indigo fluttered down to the flowers and back to the top of the fence. “That’s a flower garden. I just love it. All kinds of different flowers with lots of nectar for me to eat. It’s nice and moist, too. The human who grows the flowers, waters them often.”

“Oh.” Sparky rolled the thought of nectar and water around in her mind. “I don’t eat nectar.” She blinked and quick as a flash, lashed out her tongue and caught another fly. “And, I’m not partial to a lot of water, either.” She shivered a little at the thought of cold water on her warm, dry skin. “But if you like it, great.”

“Thanks.” Indigo fluttered down to the flowers. She settled on an orange one and Sparky thought Indigo’s purple and blue wings looked very nice against the orange. “There are a lot of bugs, too, if that’s what you like.”

Sparky nodded. “But what if the human waters?”

“Oh. Don’t worry. Humans make a lot of noise. You’ll have plenty of time to get away before you get wet.

So, Sparky lived in the front yard and Indigo lived in the back. They met every morning in the garden after they warmed up and ate, and played, and rested. Best friends for life.

The Mighty Five: Friday Flash Story

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Sparks

Sparks

The old woman stirred her fire and dropped another piece of wood on top. The sparks danced up the chimney like demented fireflies.

“Granny, tell the story.”

Elsa wiped her rheumy eyes; of course the grandchildren would want to hear about her adventures. She nodded and hobbled back to her rocker. Shifting the chair so she could face both them and the fire, Elsa’s heart filled with love for the sweet girls cuddled together under a blanket on the bench, ready for a bedtime story.

“It was long ago,” she began, “when my eyes were clear and I moved like a gazelle across the land.”

“You were Elsa the Archer, one of the Mighty Five,” Corrine piped in.

“I was, though you’d never think so to see me today.” Elsa smiled at her oldest grand-daughter. It’s not the children’s fault I’ve grown so old. “It was before your mother was borne when Ragnar the Bold and I took on the evil marshal who was running roughshod over the shire.”

“Then Steven the Red, Dale Strongarm and Jamie the Bull joined you,” Denise, the younger girl added.

“Indeed they did. And we fought Marshal Eggleston with everything we had.” Elsa’s mind flashed to their first fight against the marshal’s men. “The first fight was later called the battle of the ford. The marshal had put a gate on either side of the ford.”

“To collect a tax!” Corrine called out.

“He did. Coming or going, it made no difference to the marshal. While he filled his coffers with our coppers and silvers the people of the Shire grew poorer and poorer. Something had to be done.”

“So Ragnar the Bold devised a plan,” Denise shouted.

Elsa chuckled. “He did. The five of us marched up to the ford, the marshal’s men lounged in their place, calling out that the fee to cross was two coppers. They stood up as we approached, the foul men calling out lewd invitations to me.

“Grandpa Ragnar didn’t like it,” Corrine noted.

“He did not but he kept his temper.” Elsa smiled as she remembered how much she admired her new husband for his control. “Ragnar stepped up to the man in charge as I stood back and the others spread out across the road. Ragnar told the man that we wanted to cross. The soldiers laughed. The head soldier said, ‘When we get the coppers, clod. Two for each of you to cross, though, for the woman, we’ll allow you to pass for free.’ I could see Ragnar grip his stave until his knuckles turned white. I pulled set my arrow and pulled my bow. Ragnar told them he would not pay.”

The girls stared at their grandmother with rapt attention.

“You will pay or turn around, peasant. The soldiers from the other side of the ford were listening to their comrade. Ragnar raised his stave. I’ll give you this if you don’t let us pass. The marshal’s men pulled their swords as the others on the other side began to cross. Ragnar swung back and hit the lead man with his stave. Then it was chaos. I pulled my bow but the men were too close together for me to shoot.”

“You were very brave, Grandma,” little Denise’s eyes shone. Elsa thought about how terrified she’d been. “Perhaps, little one. So your grandfather was in the fight of his life, his stave against swords. Steven, Jamie and Dale were also fighting hard. The five soldiers from the other side of the ford were nearly at the fight. I had to stop them or my friends would be outnumbered two to one and them with swords and armor.”

“You shot them!” Corrine said.

“I did.” Elsa’s stomach churned at the memory of the sound of her arrows slamming into the soldier’s chests but she didn’t stop firing until all five of them were down, screaming and writhing on the ground. She swallowed. “That gave Ragnar and our friends the time they needed to overcome the soldiers.”

“You saved the day, Grandma.” Denise grinned.

“I suppose so. That’s what the people cheered later as we went from town to town.”

“You were a hero,” Corrine nodded.

Elsa never felt like a hero. She had only wanted to raise children and work the farm. “Perhaps. As any man or woman is who fights for what they believe.” She shook off the memories of long ago. Ragnar had been dead these last ten years. “Time for bed, little ones. Enough of ancient stories.”

The girls unwrapped from their blanket, Corrine bringing it with her to their bed in the loft. Elsa tucked them in. “Sleep well.” She kissed each of them on the forehead.

“I’m going to be a hero someday,” Corrine said.

“Me, too,” Denise chimed in.

Elsa shuddered with the memories of all of the battles she’d fought in. “Dream of peace, girls. Being a hero is over-rated.”

Back in her chair she stared into the fire. All of that blood and death and for what? The King sent a new marshal and order was restored but it didn’t last. The old King died and the prince became king. Things became worse than ever.

She tossed another stick on the fire and picked up her knitting. The girls grew so fast new socks were needed every three months. Rumor had it that a new band was fighting back. The Protectors people were calling them. Elsa wished them well. If they lived through it they’d need help to bury the bad memories and live their lives in peace. She hoped they’d find it.

 

 

The End

937 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html