WEP - Café Terrace Shantytown

Café Terrace Shantytown

          “You remember, don’t you? That week in Paris?” James asked as he put a cup of hot cocoa to his wife’s lips. “Take a sip, it’ll warm your insides. Just like that hot toddy that evening in Paris.”

          Jeana smiled. “That’s so good, did you slip some brandy in it?” She winked then sighed. “How could I forget about our honeymoon? We were so young, so in love. Foolish really, but despite our missteps in life, I’ll never regret one day, not a one!”

          “You’d wanted to have a drink at an outdoor terrace, just like in the Van Gogh painting, The Café Terrace. Then you just had to have the print. It cost almost as much as one night at the hotel,” James said as he held his wife close in their handmade haven, a cardboard box. 

          It was the deluxe model. Its former occupant had been the latest in cold food storage. The Viking Professional 5 Series 48-Inch 29.05 Cu. Ft. Built-In Side-By-Side Stainless Steel Refrigerator/Freezer. 

          The Stewarts have always had the best. He’d worked in retail all his life, and she’d taken time off to care for their young but put her time in as a clerk in an accounting office.

          But now that fancy house was gone. Their twenty-year-old car had finally given out, and while social security came in monthly, it had been whittled down to a little more than an allowance that allowed the Stewarts a few morsels of food and kept Jeana supplied with medication. Universal health care, the promised solution never happened, and Medicare had gone bankrupt years earlier. Every hospitalization whittled away at their savings then took their house and belongings. All they had left were each other, a few blankets and cherished mementos, and the cardboard box they now called home.

          Under the bridge near a slow-moving river, they shared the area with twenty other individuals. Each family had a cardboard box covered with a plastic tarp. A makeshift outhouse had been created for everyone’s use, and for the most part, neighbor supported neighbor.

          Jeana scoffed. “Ever the penny pincher, but that print has graced each of our homes, even this one.” Her eyes wandered to the print of the Café Terrace, salvaged from their house before foreclosure. “I can still hear the bells, see the Eiffel Tower, and taste the eclairs and wine.” Jeana giggled. “I think it’s the first time I ever got drunk.”

          “All it took was one glass.” James laughed.

          “That never changed, but I’ve always felt safe with you.” She blinked away tears. “The fun we had James, such wonderful memories.” Jeana looked into the tired eyes of her spouse. “We had a good life, didn’t we?”

          “The best Jeana, the absolute best.” James kissed the top of her head and resituated the blanket around her frail body.

          “How cold is it going to get tonight?” she asked.

          “They’re saying well below freezing. We need to move outside with the others at sunset, near the fire. If we stay here, we’ll die in our sleep.”

          “Not the worst way to go. Don’t you just fall asleep?” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

          “What are you thinking?”

          “Just that I’m tired. So very, very tired.”

          James sighed. “I know, sweetheart. I know. You rest, I’ll keep you warm. In my arms, you’ll always find warmth.”

…..

         After the ground thawed, a hole was dug. James and Jeana Stewart, still in their cardboard haven, were buried on the outskirts of the cardboard shantytown.

587 words / FCA

Yolanda Renée © 2020

Read more WEP entries HERE!

IWSG - THERE ARE RULES?

THE INSECURE WRITER'S SUPPORT GROUP

Created by Alex J Cavanaugh

The awesome co-hosts are Eva @ Lillicasplace, Crystal Collier, Sheena-kay Graham, Chemist Ken, LG Keltner, and Heather Gardner!

January 4 Question: What writing rule do you wish you’d never heard?

There are rules for writing? Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention. Too busy writing, but I look forward to reading your answers to the question.
As for me and rules – aren’t they meant to be broken? J

 Happy 2017!

A New Year, the opportunity for new beginnings. Love that aspect and I am grabbing the bull by the horns. I hope you are too! Go for it, make this the year you achieve your deepest desires!

What are your writing goals for 2017?

Consider adding WEP writing challenges to your goals:

WEP - Write...Edit...Publish

WEP - MELTING SNOW

Judgement day for the winter ice challenge had arrived, and they were excited to learn if their favorites had won. Glenna had chosen the Dragon War, and David had picked the Angels in Flight. The winner would buy dinner at Anchorage's best restaurant, The Crow's Nest.

David told her the freshly fallen snow was the lure, but she knew that a proposal was his goal. Glenna was ready for the commitment. After all, they'd been together for over a year, and two people more suited didn't exist. They had similar goals, enjoyed all things outdoor, and they both agreed that love and family were the keys to success.

She'd met the handsome pilot on a flight she'd taken during a school training project. His knowledge and skill made the trip a success, and their first date left no doubt they had a future together. He'd cooked dinner for her over a campfire in the back yard of the cabin he'd built with his own hands. Fresh salmon, corn on the cob, new potatoes, and homemade blueberry ice cream. The way to a man's heart may be through his stomach, but for Glenna, his down-home cooking, adventure filled stories, and sense of humor had won her heart.

"Think twice, Sissy!" David shouted and threw the first snowball; just a handful of snow, but it caught Glenna by surprise.

"You're in trouble now," she yelled, but quickly gathered two handfuls and formed a perfect ball. She threw it, laughing and ducking at the same time. Their snowball fight lasted just minutes, but his concussion and subsequent coma would mar their future.

*****

Sissy, or Glenna Parks, as her friends knew her, rinsed her face with cold water, and stared at her reflection. Haggard looking after another sleepless night, she wondered how life could take such a sharp, sudden turn.

She'd just won the job of a lifetime and would be teaching history at the University of Alaska in Anchorage. David Carter, her beau, was about to pop the question, his recent inquiry the clue.

"How do you feel about antique jewelry?" he'd asked.

"I love all things with a history," she'd told him.

Life couldn't have been sweeter. She recalled his last kiss, confident that he was going down on one knee then. Instead, he gathered up a handful of snow and changed their lives forever.

Now he couldn't even recall her name. At first, he didn't know his own name, even denied being a pilot, claimed to be afraid of heights, and a Texan living in Alaska, not reality. The man who awoke from the coma was not the man who had slipped on the ice.

Dripping water reminded her of the blood she'd tried to staunch with their woolen scarves but to no avail. The paramedics hurried him away, and she followed. Glenna willed him back to consciousness, but she wasn't prepared for the hateful stranger who greeted her.

Now, a week later, a few memories had returned giving her hope that the rest would soon follow. Glenna wasn't sleeping, barely eating, and David's lack of recognition hurt on a level she didn't even know existed. Yesterday, he'd asked her to leave him alone.

"I don't need a stranger watching or commenting on my every move. Especially one with sad puppy dog eyes."

Hiding her tears, she left. Today she'd returned with an entire picture album of their adventures together, something to spark David's memory. She promised herself she would just drop it off, but when she arrived, he was asleep. She waited, watched, prayed, and eventually fell into a deep sleep herself.

Still holding his hand, she dreamed of the David she knew. The warmth and strength of him were as she remembered, but reality was waking in a sterile hospital room with spittle dripping from her open mouth. She rushed into the bathroom to revive herself. Gazing into the mirror, she vowed to recapture their happiness.

"Hey, beautiful. I was hoping you'd return for a visit," David said. The tone, the comment, hey beautiful, was pure David. Ready to answer, she dried her face, but someone else beat her to it.

"Hi, handsome. You look better. How are you feeling?"

Giggling.

"Oh my, you are feeling better!" The voice of the doctor who'd admitted him sounded too friendly, syrupy, and seductive.

"Except for an almost constant headache, pretty darn good, especially now that you're here!" David cooed.

Glenna listened. Their conversation wasn't the typical discussion between doctor and patient. They were flirting.

"Why don't you spring me from this place? I'll buy dinner?' David asked.

"First thing tomorrow morning. Dinner sounds wonderful, but I thought you were spoken for. What's her name? Glenda?"

"Glenna? No. No way, she's not my type. Believe me. We're just friends. I actually had to ask her to leave. I honestly hope she never comes back. That whiny voice of hers grates on the ears. Besides, what adult woman would ever accept Sissy as a nickname?"

"You sure you remember everything. What about the ring we found in your pocket?"

"Yeah, I know. The engagement ring was my mother’s. Dad sent it to me along with a few other mementos. That ring has nothing to do with Sissy."

The way he said her nickname hurt deep in her soul. It was meant to be something only they shared. Sissy was an endearment her grandfather used when she was younger, and David claimed for his own. No one else could call her Sissy.

 Glenna managed to leave the room without notice. The silhouette of their embrace on the curtain, then the sound of kissing assaulted her as she crept away. She dropped the picture album in the wastebasket and left the hospital just moments after a blizzard hit, but she didn't feel the Arctic chill, or the warm tears streaming from her eyes.

Nor did Glenna see the car that careened out of control due to the ice and snow.

Yolanda Renée © 2016

996 words / FCA

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WEP - PURPLE GREEN & GOLD

Time for another WEP - Write...Edit...Publish Flash Fiction Challenge. For this challenge we asked folks to write a story about a Holiday Celebration that's out of this world.

1000 words or less with a science fiction theme.

With the dozens of celebrations that occur during this time of the year, picking one wasn't difficult, but adding an off planet mix, made it a bit more intriguing.

This is my contribution. Enjoy.

And please follow the links to read the others!

PURPLE GREEN & GOLD

Jaysa put an X on the calendar, marking another day gone, and surprisingly another year. New Year's Eve had always been her favorite holiday. She looked forward to the promise of new beginnings. Tears threatened. To distract herself, she prepared a cup of chamomile tea. Lost in her memories, Jaysa wandered to the front window and gazed outside.

The panoramic view of the alien valley below raised her spirits. The temperature outside registered a minus fifty degrees, warmer than usual. Trees that bloomed bright gold and red in the summer now stood as frosty sentinels around the compound. Winds from the West blew in gusts of seventy miles per hour, but the mature trees stood tall and unmoving. The younger trees, however, swayed; doing a dance resembling a yoga sun salutation.

The planet Verre Koude, meaning “distant cold,” was in the Andromeda Galaxy. The Sun was one and a quarter times farther from Verre Kouda than the distance of Earth's sun, so winter was the dominate season.

Jaysa and her husband, Jules, had volunteered to establish an outpost and do research on this new discovery. Their spacecraft was equipped to make the one-way trip and serve as their lodgings. Jaysa and Jules meant to raise their family on Verre Koude and send their discoveries to earth via a state of the art communications pod.

NASA had made no promises for future settlement or even supplies. It was an opportunity to be pioneers without a lifeline. The newlyweds saw it as the perfect adventure. Equally excited by the possibilities, they married on New Year's Eve, and one month later, took off for their new home. Their craft carried everything they needed, a comfortable apartment, greenhouse, medical and research lab, and the all-important communications pod. With enough supplies to get them through ten years, they realized survival would depend on ingenuity and skill, but they assumed more explorers would eventually join them.

However, a meteor storm during flight had destroyed one-third of the ship. The communication pod and the two small crafts, which were supposed to provide them with the transportation to explore their new world, were gone along with half of their supplies. The autopilot had jettisoned those compartments to save the ship.

Jules was confident he could find enough parts from the rest of the craft to create a new antennae that would allow them to communicate with Earth. He would use the undamaged communication equipment from the flight deck once they landed.

They'd settled their craft on a high mountain plateau with the valley and ocean spread in front of them. Jules had called it a good defensible position; Jaysa appreciated it for the view.

Their communications problem was the first thing Jules tackled while Jaysa gathered data and plotted their first movements across the planet for exploration. Jules was partially successful with his repairs. They could send messages and data, but they couldn't receive confirmation back from NASA.

It took months for Jules to build a receiver. Every evening they listened to static, hoping beyond hope that someone would return their messages. Two-way communication hadn't happened, but they'd settled into a regular routine.

Jaysa yearned for children to make their stay less lonely, but Jules refused to allow her to get pregnant. He didn't want his children to be alone with no hope of returning to Earth. Jaysa tried to convince him that NASA would send another ship, but Jules argued that the billions in funds that NASA had spent for this trip would be a political hot potato.

Procreation was the only source of discord between them.

Now Jules was gone. Maybe lost forever. She was alone. If he had granted her wish, she might have a child, maybe even children, to keep her company. Now all she had were the birds and beasts of Verre Koude, some more vicious than others.

Six months ago, Jules had left for the ocean intent on having fresh fish for dinner. He never returned. Jaysa searched for him for days, weeks, even months, but she never found his body.

She delayed her grief with false hope, but with her dream of adventure destroyed, Jaysa grew homesick. Instead of sending out data regarding her life on Verre Koude, she broadcast a repeating Mayday call.

This New Year's Eve would’ve been their eighth anniversary, five years of which they'd spent in cryostasis for their trip to Verre Koude. They'd had two and a half years of actual marriage and exploration, and she'd spent six months searching and grieving.

A pity party instead of a New Year's Eve party was all Jaysa had to look forward to, but something stirred inside her and she refused to allow depression to take control.

Dumping her cold tea, she went to the bathroom and showered. Putting on her most daring dress, and switching on her favorite music, Jaysa popped the cork on a bottle of Champaign and made her first toast.

"To you, Jules, and whatever the future may hold." She drank the glass in its entirety and sipped the next. Glancing outside, she noted the winds were calm, and the Aurora Borealis was providing a magnificent display of blues, greens and reds in a dramatic artistic swath across the heavens.

A strange light caught her eye. Jaysa thought it was a meteor but quickly realized the speed was too erratic. A ship on a crash course. Is this my rescue?

She changed into winter gear, grabbed her gun and skis, and headed down the mountain. Explosions and flames filled the sky. "Oh God, please let them survive!"

At the crash site, she found a man dressed in a t-shirt working to contain the fire. Tall and un-phased by the cold temperatures, his muscular arms glistened from his labors.

He looked up as she approached and smiled. She moved closer. Realizing that his dark purple skin meant her savior was alien, she stopped in her tracks, but his green-gold eyes conveyed delight allaying her fears.

999 words/FCA

Yolanda Renee © 2015

IWSG - JOY vs MARKETING

It's time to rock the neurotic writing world!

With the

INSECURE WRITER'S SUPPORT GROUP

The awesome co-hosts for the September 2 posting of the IWSG are Julie Flanders, Murees Dupé, Dolorah at Book Lover,Christine Rains, and Heather Gardner!

I was cooking dinner yesterday and realized how much I enjoyed cooking and the joy I felt doing the task. I'm no gourmet, believe me, but at least my family eats what I feed them. I was curious about why the feeling caught my attention. Was feeling joy, odd? No, the odd thing was that I noticed it. Stranger still is that it made me question what it was that had stolen my happiness in the first place. I reviewed the prior week.

Was writing stealing my joy?

Couldn't be, last night I wrote 3000 words from a dream that will go into my next book and writing it was quite satisfying, especially as book 4 is coming together, and that feels great.

It's not the writing that steals my joy; it's all the other things that go along with it. I'm beginning to think that writing in a vacuum would be more joyful than trying to jump through the hoops that are required to find an audience and convince them to buy your book.

Marketing steals my joy!

There's Facebook and their desire to have their cake and eat it too. I mean who wouldn't want to turn billions into trillions. On FB regular posts no longer reach but a few people, you want more folks to see them, pay for a boost. Everywhere there are fees for this and fees for that. Not to mention the fact that folks are fed up with seeing 'buy my book' on any social networking site. Because of spam, no one wants to share an email address, so good luck finding an audience for your newsletter. I think it's time to go back to the highway advertising road sign, just say'n.

I find myself wondering if real joy means turning off the computer, deleting all social networking sites, and going back to the things in life that bring true happiness? You know, painting the porch, cleaning the garage, and putting that closet organizer together, yes, these are all tasks I've been putting off.

What steals your joy?

*****

Today WEP-Write…Edit…Publish is announcing the winners of the Spectacular Settings Challenge. 

That exercise did bring me joy, and if you've taken the time to read all the great entries, you'll agree. 

Please stop by the WEP Headquarters and give your congratulations to the winners.

1^st place – Elephants Child

2^nd place – L. G. Keltner

3^rd place – Samantha Redstreake Geary

BATSHIT CRAZY

MONDAYS FINISH THE STORY

Hosted by Barbara W. Beacham.

Your challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided.

Don’t forget to use the opening sentence…

This challenge runs from Monday to Sunday!

Get creative and have fun finishing the story!

BATSHIT CRAZY

 “The team employed the use of Nightshade to get the information they wanted from their captive.”

"She guaranteed the truth serum would work."

"You're batshit crazy. I'm just glad he agreed to dinner and you didn't have to kidnap the man, but he's asleep. How the hell can you ask a sleeping man questions?"

"She warned me and told me what to do just in case." Claire took the bucket of ice holding the champagne bottle and threw it over the sleeping man.

He coughed himself awake. "What the f…? Claire? What the hell's going on?"

"You passed out, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Were their ice cubes in that water?"

"Sorry, I just reacted," she nodded to her companion who left through the back door.

"Jerry, can I ask a question?"

"Sure, just throw me a towel."

Claire tossed the towel and asked her long awaited question.

"Jerry, as the top agent in New York, honestly, what did you really think of my book?"

150 words

Yolanda Renee © 2015

*****

FYI:

TRUTH SERUM POTION

ORIGIN OF BATSHIT CRAZY

*****

Sign up for the 

WEP-Write…Edit…Publish 

Spectacular Settings 

Flash Fiction Challenge 

HERE!

HOW I WRITE FLASH FICTION

Google that question and you'll find a plethora of how to's. Wiki-how.com has a numbered response with pictures for that answer. Since the answer is readily available, I thought I'd tell you exactly how I do it. 

I'm no expert but if you've been reading my blogs lately you know I participate in two weekly flash fiction challenges – Mondays Finish the Story – and Friday Fictioneers.

With Mondays Finish the Story – Barbara W. Beachman gives us a picture and a first sentence prompt. For Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields gives only a photo prompt. She expects 100 words while Barbara gives us a challenge of 150 words. I enjoy both and if you're interested, please click the links to find out more.

As soon as the prompt is posted, I save the photograph to my desktop. I make it my desktop background until the story is finished simmering in my head.

However, the first thing I do is put myself into the scene – no matter what or where it is. Then I start to detail my story through the questions I ask. 

For a recent Mondays Finish The Story, the picture was of a black cat hiding behind a curtain, his paws clearly visible, and his bright green eyes shining through the thin material. Barbara posted the sentence "He thought he had found the perfect hiding place."

I became the cat. Why would a black cat hide? Whom would he hide from? What was happening that made him hide? From that, I fashioned my story Spells & Potions. See, it's that simple. I also try to find a way to end the story with something fun, unexpected, and surprising. It's not necessary, just fun.

You can read Spells & Potions HERE!

For a recent Friday Fictioneers, the photo prompt was a winter scene with a pavilion. I placed myself at the scene and then asked the question, why was I there? I decided for a first date. Moreover, while I made it a lovely first date, with the possibility of more for this young couple, and could have ended it that way, but I like a twist.

You can read First Date HERE!

I read First Date to my husband and son, and they immediately said, no one proposes on a first date. However, I had personal experience as proof they were wrong. I've had such a proposal, not once, not even twice, but three times – thank God, my dates didn't carry knives. :)

I hope this gives you some insight into how I write flash fiction, and an excuse to try one yourself. Once I see the prompt, I can usually get the story written in a very short time. I always write, edit, edit, edit, and then publish. The first draft is never good enough. Still the entire process takes very little time, I'd say from beginning to end, one hour, and it's fun!

And now you have my secret to flash fiction prompts:

QUESTIONS

It's a technique I learned when my son was young, and we had a long ride in the car. He'd get anxious and cranky. So we created stories. I'd ask a question. He'd give me an answer and then I'd embellish his answer and add another question. On one such trip, we fashioned a story of how he and his trusty best friend, his dog Peanut, saved the moon from a cheese eating alligator. He had fun, and a long ride became much shorter.

I use the same technique of asking questions during all my writing, especially when the story falters. Ask the right question, because there's always an answer!

While it might seem easy to put yourself into a photo prompt to get your story, you can do the same with a title, a list of words, or a sentence. What image do the words conjure? You're a writer, use that imagination and paint our story.

Speaking of painting a scene, today on WEP-Write…Edit…Publish Denise is detailing settings on a blog titled Spectacular Settings Mean Spectacular Reads, please check out her advice; she is the master of amazing scenery and atmosphere.

Detailed scenic writing is almost a lost art in the modern day of quick stories – get to the action – and short attention spans. Denise's scenic writing takes you to a destination without a photograph because she creates the scene fully through her writing. So check out the WEP blog and learn how add atmosphere to your writing.                        CLICK HERE!

HAPPY WRITING!

Do you have any secrets to writing you can share? 

Do prompts do it for you? Is it a title, a few words, or a complete sentence that gets your flash fiction writing juices started?

Come on share – it's just between you and me!

HONORABLE MENTION

My entry titled Choices for the WOW! Women on Writing FlashFiction Challenge won – Honorable Mention for Winter 2015 Challenge. I'm thrilled because my post was an original post for the WEP-Write Edit Publish Halloween Flash Fiction Challenge in 2014. After reworking the story, I cut it from 1000 words to 750 words and submitted it to WOW!

For today's WEP post, I wrote about What Flash Fiction is and Why it's an excellent writing exercise. Please check it out. There's also a list of links that will give you access to dozens of other flash fiction sites. Some of those sites pay for work and some do not, but it's a great list to have handy if you're looking for a great challenge or publication. Don't forget the WEP's first challenge is in August on Spectacular Settings. Read more about it on the site, as well as the October, and December challenge.

For your edification, here is the story that won honorable mention.

CHOICES

Haley looked into the abyss. Between the sheer marble and granite walls, lava flowed with the blinding brilliance of the sun. Pops of flame exploded in whirlpools of unfathomable appetite, and the heat kissed her porcelain skin with desire. She used a suspension bridge during her last escape, but Kaden recaptured her and wrenched her link to safety from its moorings. Despite her betrothal to his twin brother, King Zane, Kaden wanted her for himself and was willing to go to war to achieve his goal. She stared at the magma, a death that assured no resurrection, while her reason for flight replayed.

*****

Recuperating from pneumonia, Haley curled up on a large chair in front of the fire. The lock on the door clicked, and without looking, she knew Kaden had entered the room. The atmosphere felt heavy, airless, but she did not move.

"Feeling better?" Kaden asked with faux concern.

Despite forehand knowledge, Haley's heart jumped in her chest, and her body stiffened at the sound of his caustic voice. The warmth radiating from the fire turned to waves of ice that girdled her bones and captured her heart in a glacial chill.

"You’ll never convince Zane that I was behind your kidnapping. Be careful, or you'll be the cause of his death." Kaden's voice sounded bored, as though he were tired of playing games.

"I broke the engagement. Zane left without me."

"But you didn't tell him you were staying."

"I prefer an eternity in hell to a minute with you. You have my word. I will not marry Zane, but touch him, and I’ll kill myself. No one wins."

"You’re wrong. I always win. I will have you. Dr. Zheng has a way to make even the dead live. I brought proof."

The sound of a clattering chain intensified the cold and tightened her gut into a knot. He had locked her in; was he now going to chain her to her prison? Haley did not move, but Kaden stepped closer, and the fear that he would touch her had her jumping to her feet. She kept the chair between them but gauged her chance for escape. She noticed the open door. Her illness caused her to sway, but she fought her weakness.

"Don’t test me, Haley. You’ll marry me. You’ll even love me. If you don’t believe me, believe this."

Nothing in life had prepared her for the vision before her. Screams formed in the deepest part of her, but she held them inside as one hand covered her mouth and the other held tightly to the chair. She wanted to close her eyes but could not because an abomination of nature lumbered toward her.

The man she knew as Goren, her kidnapper, the same man she had witnessed being fed to wild dogs, slowly moved into the light. His death was a truth she could not doubt because she'd witnessed the horror, and yet he stood before her, held on a chain by two large men as his handlers.

He barely had clothes, or skin, and yet he moved forward on his own two feet. His skin, what was left of it, black, blue, and green, hung loose where the voracious beasts had ripped him open with their teeth. His remaining muscle hung in purple shreds, and bones, some broken, protruded in ugly bloody angles. The smell of death wafted off him like a putrid fog. A dead man lived.

Kaden's next statement jabbed Haley like a blade through the heart.

"I will have you—even in death."

The proof of his words stood before her, decomposing. Goren's eyes held her gaze, solid blue, rimmed in red, and clouded by tears. His eyes pleaded with her because his mouth and his throat were missing. This horrendously deformed, half-consumed body understood, knew his condition. Goren was fully aware of his own miscreation.

Haley saw the horror of her future.

Kaden laughed. "The doctor is a genius."

Kaden had underestimated her strength and the loyalty of their undead pet. The monster attacked Kaden, and Haley bolted from the room. She made it through the mountain tunnel and stood above the Gulf of Fire, but her pursuer found her.

Kaden approached and bellowed, "There's nowhere to go, Haley. Accept your fate."

She turned, her heels on the edge of the precipice, and smiled. "I've chosen my destiny." Haley felt the arms of angels catch her as the fires of hell opened to swallow her.

The End

749 Words

Yolanda Renee (c) 2015

*****

The WEP-Write...Edit...Publish is all about preparing your work for publication. Write your story, edit your story, and get feedback and constructive criticism for your story, plus you'll have fun doing it!