Countdown to Banned Book Week!

Banned Book Week is upon us! Only 25 days left until it's time to celebrate your right to read. Exercising and protecting free speech and holding on for dear life to the right to free, flowing information are pretty important to me. Since this is the first year of the Banned Book Vlog Project, it's time to lead off with a bang. From September 27 - October 1, I'll be posting 5 new vlogs. I want everyone to celebrate with me, so here's the list of books I'm reading for the occasion:


The Analects by Confucius

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Animal Farm by George Orwell


If none of these books strike your fancy, a little later in the week, I'll be creating a new page with a list of all of the banned books in the project. Don't make me beg. Read AT LEAST one this month. You won't be sorry.

UPDATE: The Banned Book Project now has it's own page! If you look up at the top of your screen, it should be on the menu bar. I'm working on a way to make all of these books as easily accessible to you as possible, but until then, please browse through the titles and pick one out. :)

Fairy Tale Blogfest!

I'm still making my way through the entries for the Word Paint Blogfest, so I apologize if you haven't seen a comment from me yet. I'm getting there!

I had to stop reading though because Emily White is hosting the Fairy Tale Blogfest today and I had to write my entry. In a 1,000 words or less, I need to take a fairy tale and reimagine it into another genre. In my opinion, fairy tales are kind of fucked up anyway. It's all fun and games...and then someone actually does poke their eyes out. So the challenge here is really to take that up a few notches. I consulted my collection of Grimm's Fairy Tales for the best jumping off point. I was immediately drawn to The Sleeping Beauty.

Update: It's 5 in the morning, and I'm fairly certain that the story is complete crap. I still wanted to get something up for the fest. I'll probably come back and edit at some point in the day. Hope it's not too painful for those that come in before the edit.

When you're done reading, please check out the other entries at the Stepping into Fantasy blog.

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She pricked her finger on the spindle of the spinning wheel and crumpled to the floor. Though no one could wake her, Rosamond's features maintained a youthful glow. It was not death that overcame her, but a deep sleep that would last for the next one hundred years. Anticipating the anxieties the princess would have if she awakened to a world with none of the people she loved in it, the good fairy put the kingdom under a spell. The king, the queen, and all who dwelled within the palace fell into the same kind of deep sleep that afflicted Rosamond. It would preserve them for as long as the princess' eyes remained closed in slumber. To keep everyone safe from harm, the fairy conjured a ring of thick thorns around the kingdom.

Ninety-nine years passed, and the kingdom became nothing more than a rumor to those in distant lands. It was at this time that the earth was enchanted by an evil spell. The dead began to rise and multiply in epidemic proportions. They roamed around in a stupor, searching for the living. Once found, it took only a single bite for their victims to become one of them. Fortifications only served to trap people into a guaranteed demise. Though the ghouls were far from indestructible, the element of surprise and the power of numbers overwhelmed those that tried to fight back.

The relevance of a kingdom untouched by the plague became more and more important to those who managed to survive. Groups were sent out in search of this palace, but never heard from again. It was impossible to tell if they were overtaken by the dead on the way there, or if they were lost looking for something that simply didn't exist. Indeed, some found themselves helpless against the ghouls. There were a few that did manage to make it to the outskirts of the sleeping kingdom. Their fates were not much better. When trying to penetrate the thicket, they were impaled and snagged on the thorns. If they made it far enough into the thick, their deaths were slow and agonizing, but humanity was maintained. If they were further out on the perimeter, their moans were sure to be heard by the ghouls and death came quicker.

A prince wandered the countryside near where the castle was said to be. He was alone, having lost all of his men to the plague, but had proven himself capable with a sword. Since he was a young boy, he had heard the tale of the enchanted palace and the beautiful maiden that rested there. With nowhere else to go, he set out in search of the lost kingdom yearning both for a safe place to rest and to get a glimpse of the woman that pervaded his dreams.

Standing atop of a hill, he could make out three tall turrets over the treeline. He headed in that direction, but approached cautiously when he caught the scent of decay. He didn't know if he should be relieved when he found the source of the stench- the mutilated bodies of those that had come before him. The way they had come to their end wasn't readily apparent though. The tall ring of thorns had turned into rich, green foliage, pushed easily aside with the help of the Prince's sword. Once on the other side of the thick, the Prince looked up at the great stone walls. The entire place seemed to be holding it's breath. In fact, the Prince had to remind himself to exhale as he found himself wrapped up in the suspended energy of the castle. As he explored, he found people in awkward positioning. He tried to call to them, but they wouldn't wake up yet their faces didn't have the ashen appearance of the dead.

Curiouser and curiouser, the Prince entered the castle. He paused when he caught the scent of roses. He followed it up the circular steps of the tower to the room where Rosamond lay, her one hundred year sleep almost at an end. The Prince had never seen a woman so beautiful in his life. She looked every bit as youthful and fresh as the day she pricked her finger. The Prince found himself drawn to her side, in awe that the sleeping beauty was real and right in front of him. So overwhelmed was he that he picked up one of her hands and delicately pressed his lips to it.

At that moment, the princess awoke. Her eyelids fluttered open and a tiny gasp escaped her lips as she trained her eyes on the Prince. She reached out and touched his face.

"It's you," she whispered. "I've been waiting for you in my dreams."

A murmur filled the castle and traveled up the staircase. A tearful reunion was had between the King and Queen and their daughter. The kingdom broke out into cheers. Their princess was back and their lives could go back to normal.

"No...NO! You must order them to be quiet!" The Prince pleaded with the King.

"But this is such a momentous occasion. Why should they not celebrate?"

"Please order their silence and I will explain everything."

"Nonsense."

No one would listen to the Prince, and soon the cheers of joy turned into screams of panic. If a sword could move aside the once protective wall of shrubbery, hoards of the determined ghouls could make it through as well. A servant ran up the stairway to report to the King about the attack. He had a bite mark on his arm. As the King gave him orders for defense, the servant became faint and dropped to the ground. He twitched and gasped for air before succumbing to death. Try as he might, the Prince could not persuade the King to dispose of the servant and stay inside the tower. The King bravely descended the staircase into the wails and moans below.

When the Prince turned back to the body of the servant, the window of opportunity to safely get the body out of the room had passed. The corpse reanimated and took out a piece of of the Prince's shin and ravenously started to work its way up to towards the knee. Though his fate was sealed, he swore to do what he could to protect Rosamond for as long as he was alive. He shook the ghoul off of his leg, drew his sword and brought it down on the ghoul's head.

"Leave me," were the Prince's last words as the Queen and Rosamond came to his aid, and the kingdom, once the hope of an entire word, slipped into chaos.

Make what you will of this ending. Happy, tragic, or perhaps a mixture of both, the Prince and Rosamond lived eternally ever after.

Word Paint Blogfest

I went a little bit blogfest happy this month. Monday, I'll be posting my entry for the Fairy Tale Blogfest/Contest. I'm super excited because it's such a fun assignment.

TODAY...Dawn Embers is hosting the Word Paint Blogfest over at her blog. In a 1,000 words or less, I must get very descript-y. I don't think description is my strongest suit. I think I give enough detail for the reader to get the gist of what they should be seeing in their head, but I'm not one to let my characters stop and smell the mayhem. The first part of this challenge was coming up with something to describe. This prompt was posted on the Promptly blog a couple of days ago. I'm glad it did, because now maybe I can answer a couple of questions you had about Lucky Number 6. When you're done reading, don't forget to go back to Dawn's blog and read all of the other fantastic entries.

Write a story about a character who digs up a time capsule- and within it, a powerful memory.

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I haven’t been back to this place in close to thirty years. I used to visit often, but distance and life took me away longer than I expected. Years of fallen leaves, scurrying animals, and down pours made the landscape look untouched. It didn’t matter. My destination and I shared a magnetic connection. I was pulled down the trail that, while changed with time, my body still remembered and reacted to as though I had never left.

When I had gone far enough I got down on my knees and pushed away the decaying leaves to expose the cold earth. I broke the surface with the trowel and started to dig. It wasn’t long before I found what I had come for. I used my hands for the rest of the excavation. A small, red box with gold trim around the edges was emerging. I smoothed away the dirt to admire the Shakespearean scene highlighted in the middle, framed by gold filigree. The banner underneath in bold letters read, “Romeo y Julieta”. My father smoked one of these cigars every Sunday without fail. I saved this box from the trash bin. I didn’t know what I was going to use it for, but I liked it.

Another three inches down and the box was finally free. I set it down and flipped open the lid. There was only one thing I ever kept in there. I wiped my hands on my pants to get them as clean as possible before taking out the delicate bracelet. The clasp was broken on one side, and the golden links led down to a heart set right in the middle. The chain slipped through my fingers easily as they slid down to hold the heart steady, my thumb passing over it a couple of times to give it a shine. Engraved in cursive was the name “Abby.”

Abby was the first girl I ever had a crush on. She had this beautiful pale skin and auburn hair that never wanted to stay behind her ear. It was an uphill battle trying to wriggle my way into her existence. I was just on the outskirts of her life at first. I don’t think she noticed me much. One day she was walking down the hall trying to get to class when I saw the bracelet fall. I picked it up, and put it in my pocket. I knew it was wrong. It probably upset her to lose it. I just wanted a piece of her. After months of stalker-like behavior, I managed a few awkward conversations before I finally broke through to her. Eventually, hallway conversations turned into a full blown friendship. We spent a lot of time together.

One afternoon, Abby and I took a walk in the woods after school. We came here to this spot.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” she asked me.

I was taken aback by the question. It seemed to spawn from nowhere, but I was intrigued and anxious about where she was going with it.

“No,” I said, “not yet. You?”

“No.”

The silence weighed me down. I don’t know if I was actually breathing at that moment, just waiting for her to continue the discussion one way or another.

“Can you kiss me?”

I looked at her, trying to gauge the seriousness of her request. My heart became a riot, but I maintained composure as I stepped closer to her.

“Are you sure?” I asked

“I really like you.” A flush had come to her cheeks during this time of confession. I’m sure mine were much the same.

I started to lean in and she closed her eyes. I brushed her hair behind her ear as our lips made contact. Our tongues swirled around each other, unsure but determined. She pulled back.

“You taste weird.”

Embarrassed, I made a move to step back, but she reached up around my neck and pulled me back in. We began our exploration again, but this was also cut short by a hesitation on her part.

“My mouth is numb. Is yours?”

“No. I feel fine. Are you okay?”

“I don’t think so,” she said after a self-assessment. “Let’s get going,” she said, obviously struggling with getting these words out.

I walked her home. Disappointment was overshadowed by concern. She didn’t try to say anything on the way, and I didn’t either. She didn’t look so good by the time we were on her front porch.

“Going to be okay?” I asked her again.

She just nodded and pushed in the door. I watched her disappear inside and walked home with dark thoughts in my mind.

She was dead the next day. I found out at school in class. I was the last person to see her. The cause of death was poison. I didn’t know it at the time, but the cause of death was actually me. Surely, it was not intentional, but all the same, she was my first. I never suspected what kind of monster lay within. I turned the tiny chain over in my hands- the first heart I ever stole.

Deceived!

Your flash fiction for this week will be posted on Friday. I've entered into Dawn Embers' Word Paint Blogfest. Description is something that I need to work on. At first, I was going to write a story about the religious experience I had in the Christian Louboutin store, but then I found a prompt that was just a little more inspirational. Come back Friday to see what it is. :)

Today, I'm just getting some things off my chest and asking for some helpful hints.

I hate when my trust is taken and stomped all over. The incident in question has been about a year in the making. Let me start from the beginning. I'm in the market for a Bible. It's one of, if not THE, most feared books on my banned book list. When I say feared...I mean feared by me. I totally don't want to read it again. Mhmm...I said "again". I have, in fact, read The Bible. It's one of the very few books on the list that I will be revisiting. I think that gives me some validation when I say it's boooooooring. Word has it that maybe this second read through doesn't have to be. Selecting the right translation could make all the difference. I can't get too creative. Another book on the banned list is William Tyndale's translation of the New Testament...just the New one. I'll be knocking out two books in one entry because I'm not reading the Bible twice. There's only so much a girl can take before a line has to be drawn. It's completely up to me which version of the Old Testament I use though. Thus, my search began.

I heard rumors of a hip hop Bible that calls God "Big Daddy". The translations of The Lord's Prayer and other pieces of the Bible that I found were just fantastic. A second affirmation of the existence of such a text came in A.J. Jacobs' The Year of Living Biblically. He mentions it in the beginning when he was on a similar quest for the perfect translation to follow. Some people shout, "Sacrilege!" I say, "Perfect!" However, when I went to go look for a physical copy of this thing, all of a sudden, it's nowhere to be found. Nowhere! What gives?! Digging deeper and deeper, I came to the conclusion that this "Bible" that everyone is talking about is actually not The Bible. It's the Hip Hop Prayer Book with only selections from The Bible translated. Words cannot express the heartbreak and decline in morale that this deception caused me.

Down, but not out, the search continued. While I was looking for the hip hop Bible, I remembered coming across the LOLcat Bible Project a couple of years ago. I hadn't seen it in quite some time and I wondered if it were done yet. When I went back to the site, it said that the book was out nao on Amazon. OMGZ! I harts lulz!!! Iz taim for biblicuhl kittehz!!! I clicked on teh link to Amazon and...another let down. Indeed, the LOLcat Bible is now available for purchase, but it is only portions of the Bible translated.

*sigh*

So...I'm still on the lookout for a translation of the Old Testament that I can live with. I'm told teen study Bibles are pretty awesome. Jacobs' book also gave me a few leads I'd like to follow up on.

Any suggestions?

The Carson Challenge

Update: I don't want to go into details. The details are kind of foggy and it hurts my head to think about it anyhow. The origin of the excerpt previously posted here was questionable. Since I am a big fan of covering my own ass in these sorts of situations, I took it down. I would hate losing my own words though, so I kept the part that was mine and reworked the beginning. Sorry about that!

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Travis fumbled with the dial on the radio. Strange. Usually there was no problem getting a frequency here. Travis nudged the dial over little by little listening for any promise of life to come out of the speakers. When the dial wouldn't turn anymore, he contented himself by rolling down the window and enjoying the twists and turns of PCH for what it was. There was nothing like this back home.

He was starting to enjoy the peaceful drive when the car started to sputter and slow down. Another strange occurence. This car was brand new. He hadn't even hit the 5,000 mile mark yet. When it rolled to a complete stop, Travis popped the hood and got out of the car to inspect the engine, not that he knew anything about engines. He had seen others do it though, so he felt he should probably follow protocol until he figured out what his next move should be.

He saw a car in the distance and decided to try to flag it down. A momentary sense of relief went through him when the car stopped alongside his. It was replaced with panic when he realized he knew the man stepping out of the vehicle with a large grin on his face.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you."

"I bet," Travis said. He had finally been found. He knew this moment was coming. No one could hide in the shadows forever. He also knew what happened to those who tried to run. His self-preservation instincts were pulling him in so many directions, freezing him in place. Decisions had to be made soon. Travis sized the hunter up. Could he take him? Nope. Too solidly built, too firmly planted, too heavily armed. He'd never make it anywhere.

"Let's take a ride, shall we?" The hunter gestured towards his own vehicle.

Travis stalled before finally stepping forward. He knew what he had to do. Not very many options to choose from at this point. He wasn't going back, especially not now knowing that this smarmy character was going to be getting rewarded for making the catch. He looked out onto the ocean and let the fresh, salty breeze calm his nerves.

"I thought Thylparabens were supposed to be fast. Can we get a move on?"

Travis ignored the prodding by the officer. If he was allowing Travis to take his time, he must not know what the best thing about being Thylparaben was- built-in exit strategy. Travis closed his eyes and concentrated. He could hear more complaints coming from the officer, but the voice was dimmed and eventually drowned out by an internal hum. A white heat originating from his core spread throughout his body. It put pressure on the outer skin as it seeked to grow and expand. Then, it happened...combustion.

Look at the Puppies!

I haven't been feeling well and I'm still pretty exhausted, so I thought today I could just introduce you to my girls. They pointed out to me that they haven't really had a proper introduction to the blog reading community. They also pointed out that I never give them attention and that I starve them. *eye roll*


So here's Sophie.

This is pretty much her usual post when I'm typing my effed up flash fiction. Yep...I write about dismembering people while a puppy gives me kisses. There's another Lovy Fun Fact for ya. She seems okay with it though.

And here's Ginger.

This is pretty much her standard pose. I try to oblige her and throw things on request, but she doesn't get tired. Ever. If I'm on a roll with the writing, I take a break from throwing stuff. By the time I look down again, a pile of toys will have amassed at my feet. She thinks maybe I don't like the one she brought so she goes and finds another. Talk about feeling guilty. Geez.

So there they are. I'm sure you're happy to put some faces to the names. They are bundles of pure joy and give me a reason to smile every day. Since there is really no limit to my neuroses and how far I will take it, I have another picture to share. You see...every Christmas, I take a picture of the puppies and use it as my Christmas card. They're quite popular. Here's the one from last year. I'm already conjuring up plans for this years' card. I'll be sure to post when my vision is fully realized. Til then...cheers!

By the Sea

I'm back from England! It was a wonderful trip. So many things went wrong, but much much more went so completely and utterly right. Of course, I saw Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, and all that. Beautiful, really. I'm glad I can say that I saw them, but that's not what I'll remember best though. I love the crap out of my new English friends. Whether it was a night on the Harry Potter bridge with Sci-Fi Gene or getting giggly with Ms. C.R. Pitt or raising my fist in the air next to all the fine fine individuals that attended the Rebellion Festival...it's the people that I spent my week with that I'll keep in my heart.

This next piece of flash was definitely inspired.

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"Get on with it already," Sebastian nudged his companion along.

"I don't really know who to go for," Cameron stalled. New to the trade, he still had enough conscience to question whether or not he could stomach this business. Used to working in the shipping department, he rarely had much to do with the product. A doctor had just informed him that his mother would be needing yet another surgery. The bills were piling, so he asked for more responsibility.

"Look at the order! You're looking for light blondes, 25 through 35, male, walking alone. They've got to be alone and look like they're not going anywhere in a hurry. They won't follow if they've got somewhere to be. That gentleman there," Sebastian pointed and forcefully twisted Cameron's head in a two o'clock direction, "he looks alright."

Cameron's heart beat wildly. He watched the relatively young man walk at a leisure pace along the pier, stop and lean his arms against the railing. All Cameron could hear was the sound of his blood racing through this veins and the gulls endless calling overhead. "Those birds make me fucking nervous."

"Not to worry, mate. You'll do quite well. Besides, the birds help."

"I don't think I can do this," Cameron shook his head. He froze when he heard the swish and click. He held his breath when he felt the sharp point on his back.

"I think you can," Sebastian said, the tone in his voice betraying a hint of annoyance.

Cameron had no choice. He understood that nobody ever just quit. He licked his lips and went out to the pier. He started looking around as though he were lost.

"Excuse me," Cameron interrupted the stranger's gaze. "You wouldn't happen to know where that bronze dragon fish statue is, would you?"

"I do know, actually. If you walk about a quarter mile that way, you'll see it at the mouth of Pier 6."

"Is it trouble to show me? I've been walking around for an hour and I'm pretty sure I was there and didn't see it."

The stranger checked his watch before agreeing. Cameron started talking to him as they walked along to make him feel comfortable. Pier 6 was a short distance away, but the two needed to pass under the bridge where Cameron first spotted the young man. When the two were concealed in the shadows, Cameron pulled out his kerchief and forced his victim against the wall making sure the nose and the mouth were completely covered. The muffled protests subsided until the stranger crumpled down to the floor. Cameron dragged him over to the hidden doorway. Sebastian opened it and helped carry him in.

"What do we do now? Cameron asked, short of breath.

Sebastian laid out the unconscious gentleman and started ripping his clothes and cutting them away.

"Get the lads shoes and socks off, would you?"

Cameron did as he was told, and waited for further instruction. When the stranger was completely undressed, Sebastian presented Cameron with a cleaver.

"What do I do with this?"

"Chop, chop," Sebastian answered with startling zest. "I'll get the head. Looks like Mr. Westbury will get his order before the usual 6 weeks. How's that for excellent customer service?"

Cameron struggled with watching the cleaver come down onto the neck, making a clean initial cut. The stranger's life was finished. A few extra hacks took the head away from the body completely. Streams of blood flowed down into tiny waterfalls off the edge of the table that they were working on.

"Don't just stand there. I want to be out of here by noon."

Cameron looked at the rest of the body. "Where do I begin?"

"Start at the ankle and work your way up. The pieces don't have to be small, but use some sense, ya?"

Cameron took a deep breath before starting the dismemberment. No going back now. He stacked up the parts into a pyramid, obsessively trying to make each section the same length. With the head safely stored in an ice chest, the last thing that remained was the disposal. Stunned at his own capabilities, Cameron had gone completely silent.

"Alright, let's start taking these out to the tunnel."

Cameron was confused at this last command. Wouldn't someone notice? Still, he grabbed a bit of torso and arm and followed Sebastian out of the little room. They placed the pieces right where the shadow met the sun. As they walked back to the room, the whooping of the gulls seemed to grow louder. As he looked back, he noticed they were flocking towards the bridge. He observed two of them fighting over a piece before the bigger of the two eventually won over and took off, a hearty meal secured.

Conversations with Sophie

We haven't talked to the puppies lately. I talk to them all the time, but I haven't shared any conversations. As mentioned previously, I'm in England. Since I've started travelling, I've found that the toughest part of leaving was saying goodbye to the girls. Say what you will about the intelligence of dogs, but these ones know and resent the fact that I go places without them. I can tell that they do because once I pull out the suitcase, they start laying on the guilt trip.

*Sophie walks in as I'm laying out clothes to pack*

Sophie: *puppy dog stare* What are you doing?

Me: Packing, darlin'.

Sophie: *puppy equivalent of lower lip tremble* You're leaving us again, aren't you?

Me: Just for a week. I'll be back.

Sophie: Omg, is it something I said?

Me: Nooooo. You didn't do anything. I just wanted to see the world, that's all.

Sophie: How come we're never invited.

Me: Because it costs about an extra $1000 to get the two of you on a plane with me.

Sophie: Sorry, I'm failing to see an issue.

Me: Believe me...an extra $1000 is an issue.

Sophie: Well how do we know you're coming back? We have so many close calls on a daily basis.

Me: What do you mean?

Sophie: Remember just today you went down the hall and closed the door without letting us in?

Me: Ya.

Sophie: Omg! I thought I'd never see you again!

Me: That was the bathroom, Sophie. I didn't even leave the house.

Sophie: It was an eternity!

Me: It was five minutes.

Sophie: See?

Me: Point is, I'll be back. Don't worry.

Sophie: Fine...leave...*looks away*

Me: Oh, Sophie. Don't be like that.

Sophie: *refuses to look me in the eye*

Me: One week. That's it.

Sophie: *no response*

Me: Wanna cuddle til my ride gets here?

Sophie: *still not looking* 'Kay.

The Chile Fairies

Oh, little blog. I missed you. My impending trip to England has been at the forefront of my mind causing me to get very little writing done lately. So I guess that's the first bit of news. I'll be gone for the next two weeks. There will still be posting because I'm going to use the magic of the interwebz to make my stories post at will. However, I won't be around to answer comments. :( I would still be very pleased if you did. I am a feedback whore.

Secondly, I did submit my infestation story to the Writer's Digest Your Story Contest. It did not make the top five. I still love my little gremlins.

So...a little backstory before I go on. I love art...looking and creating. I mostly paint these days, but when I was younger I had somewhat of a mentor that taught me the basics of color pencil. One of her pieces that captivated me and still somewhat haunts me to this day was a piece called "The Chile Fairies." So I'm basing this story off of that concept, plus I kind of felt like doing a cultural piece.

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Myra pushed the latch to the screen door down slowly while Adacelia stood behind her as still as a statue. If she used too much force, a screeching noise would have their father out in the front room to investigate and the entire mission would have to wait for another night. A tiny click signaled success and the screen swung easily out. Though partially hidden by clouds, the moon provided enough light to lead the girls out to the strawberry patch. They gorged themselves on the sticky, sweet fruit, gossiping about the field workers and everything they'd managed to find out during the day. When they were satisfied, they turned to head back to the house. Myra took one last look before reaching the door and spotted a glow hovering over the field. Several spots of light moved in a dancing pattern. Myra pressed her lips together at the strange sight. Her attention was violently brought back to the house with the sound of her father's booming voice. Adacelia had not been successful at slipping back in without a sound. Myra rushed indoors so that her sister wouldn't have to take the brunt of the punishment alone.

The next morning at breakfast, their mother hopped around the kitchen, cleaning up for the day. Their father had already left before the sun touched the horizon.

"Why do you girls do those things? You know how your dad gets."

"All we did was pick a few strawberries. It wasn't a big deal."

"Doesn't matter. You can't be sneaking out of the house like that. Big mistake, girls."

Myra and Adacelia looked down, their appetites slipping away.

"I don't want you eating those strawberries straight from the field anymore either," their mother continued.

"Why not?" they whined in unison.

"Because I said so. Besides, you know what happens to little girls that are being bad and don't ask permission to pick? The fairies come and they curse the field. Stay away."

The girls rolled their eyes at their mother's warning. They finished up their last bites of food before being rushed off to put their shoes on. The rest of the day was spent in the tiny shack where the strawberries were sold to passing motorists or running water over to the field workers.

Later that night, Myra looked out of the window of the girls' shared bedroom and saw the tiny specks of light floating over the field.

"What do you think those are?" Myra asked her sister.

Adacelia propped herself up on the window sill next to Myra. "I don't see what you're seeing."

"Those little lights. They're all over the place. You don't see them?"

"I don't see anything," Adacelia said in an annoyed tone before going back to her own bed.

To Myra, the lights were clear and bright- impossible to miss. She watched them making graceful patterns for a little while longer before her drooping lids forced her to crawl underneath her own covers and drift off to sleep.

In a few weeks, Myra and Adacelia had managed to stay in good graces long enough for a pleasant atmosphere to return back to the house. On a restless night, the sisters sat on the bed by the window, letting the summer breeze cool their faces. The smell of moist earth invited itself in with the wind.

Adacelia sighed, "I'm so bored."

"I know. Me too."

"Let's go out to the field tonight."

"Cely, we're going to get in trouble again. Just stay here."

"No, we won't do it like last time. I have a plan. We'll leave the window open. It's easy to jump through, and we can help each other. We won't even have to go through the front room or anything. If dad wakes up, he'll just come check on us in here but he won't know we left."

Myra thought for a moment, trying to see any flaws in the plan. In need of a little rush, she agreed to risk it. The two climbed out of the window, slowly lowering themselves onto the ground outside, being careful not to kick the side of the house. Looking over their shoulders constantly to be sure they really got away with it, the girls made their way out to the middle of the field before sitting down to indulge. They happily plucked the plumpest berries they could find. Simultaneously, they let their teeth sink in, but instead of the sugary taste of heaven, the bitter heat of peppers filled their mouths. They started to salivate and their eyes teared up. They instantly spit out the mouthful before they even started to chew, but the damage was already done.

Between gags and coughs, Myra took Adacelia by the arm, "We have to get something drink, but you can't make a sound, okay? Don't make a sound."

Adacelia nodded and composed herself. In pain, the sisters creeped back to the house. Miraculously, they both managed to slip into the window. Once in, Myra and Adacelia were still mindful of not waking their parents as they moved stealthily into the kitchen and let big glasses of water cool the agony inside their throats.

"Never again," Adacelia whispered, absolutely traumatized.

"Nuh uh." Myra confirmed, shaking her head.

When the two felt relieved enough to go to bed, Myra looked out of the window from their bedroom. She gasped slightly when she saw the flurry of pinpoint lights blazing over the field.

The Blogfest of Death!!!!

It's heeeeeee-yer. For some reason, I had a hard time getting inspired for the Blogfest of Death. In a thousand words or less, I had to kill someone. So many ways...so many ways. At first I thought of expanding the 100 word story about the man that relives his death every day. Then I got delusional and wanted to try out killer unicorns that steal your cupcakes. Finally, this story just came to me a few hours ago and I've been typing furiously since then. It may not be completely perfect, but still sufficiently creepy if you ask me. Thank you Tessa for hosting this fest. Go check out her blog, Tessa's Blurb, and read the other wonderful entries! That's what I'll be doing with my Sunday. Enjoy!

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Lucky Number 6

I wouldn’t have believed it if it hadn’t happened to me. A recent slew of murders had everyone on the boulevard a little on edge. We’re so easy to blame, so easy to throw away, so easy to forget about. We become targets for anyone who ever had an inclination for dark experiments and thought they could get away with it. We all learned to watch out for each other. I think that’s what really worried us. Usually at least one of us is able to remember a general description of the johns that frequent the area. Nobody knew anything here though. We didn’t know what to watch for or what kind of girl he liked. Word was the guy stole hearts. Five girls had been found dead, their hearts neatly cut out but with no external incision. No one even knew the heart had been taken until the autopsy. I thought the story was BS. Either way, somebody was good at their job. Still, we had to make a living. As vulnerable as we felt, we put ourselves out there night after night and hoped we weren’t next.

On a slow night, I was ready to call it quits when a guy approached me for a date. He was willing to pay good money if I indulged his kinks. After a little talk, it didn’t sound like a bad deal so I took him up on the offer. We got a by-the-hour room. He asked that I undress in front of him. As I did so, he seemed uninterested in the process. Strange, but some of them are like that. I stopped with the theatrics and just got down to business. He got up from the edge of the bed and kissed me. His lips tasted bitter and my tongue started going numb. I wanted to push him away, but he held my head and pressed his lips hard against mine, keeping my lips open. I got my arms between us and tried to get some distance, but he wouldn’t let go. My mind went into panic mode and I wanted to scream, but found that I couldn’t make a sound. The rest of my body quickly started getting stiff and I was unable to fight back. When he finally pulled away, I was helpless and immobile, not even able to call out for help. He carried me over to the bed and laid my body down, positioning it the way he wanted. He disappeared from my line of sight. A few moments later he came back and straddled me.

“This won’t hurt,” he said.

I was breathing hard as he put his hand on my chest. I wanted to fight. I wanted to at least try to get away. I never got the chance. I felt a burning sensation and some pressure as his hand went through my skin. I lost consciousness. Surprisingly, and maybe thankfully, he was right. It didn’t hurt. The burning served to both cut away and cauterize the arteries. The heart pulled easily through the rib cage and out of my body firmly in his grip. He placed it in a jar that he produced from a bag he brought to the room with him. He returned to my body. A burn scar was the only evidence of foul play that remained. He glided his hand over the scar and with each pass, the skin healed until it looked as if nothing had ever happened. So there I was, Number Six, and the man who stole my heart got away.