DEFENDING THE PEN It’s all about murder . . . romance – writing it! I post flash fiction, book announcements, interviews, and the things I love. Careful . . . you may end up the victim . . . of fun!
Yolanda Renée Stout © 2023
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FOR
CHOCOLAT
CHOCOLAT
a symbol of love
sent from above
the darker the better
a true love letter
love's calling card
a symphonic bard
sweet desire
the world
set a fire
the number one gift
on any holiday list
satisfaction so pure
love for sure
an addiction so sweet
it raises the heat
even war
couldn't defeat
man's desire
for this little treat.
***
YRS © 2023
***
IT'S AS EASY AS THAT!
DEADLINES
Sipping tea,
Angela stared out at the dark blue sky. The lights of the city flickered in the
distance. Not stars. There were never any stars. Oh, how she longed for the
country and the true night sky with the Milky Way trailing a path through the
cosmos. Inspiring romance and adventure.
Or did she desire
the cloudy night that created a blackness so thick it penetrated the soul? Encouraging
evil. Inviting terror. Warping the mind and inciting hellish nightmares.
She smiled, shook
off the melancholy, and finished her tea. Dawn was an hour away, and her
deadline was noon.
***
100 words
Yolanda Renee © 2023
Because I needed the practice.
You can join in on the fun too.
VIA
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
GROWING OLDER IS INEVITABLE. GROWING UP IS
OPTIONAL.
Friday Fictioneers
23 June 2023
Add your talent and link HERE:
STRANGE
BLUE LIGHTS
Sarah listened to the wind, but
the howl she heard was more animal than weather related. She wanted to ask Chet
but didn't want to wake him. Shivering despite the warmth of her down-filled
parka and the extra blankets, Sarah felt the breeze on her face. She covered
all but her eyes and finally succumbed to the call of dreamland.
Chet also listened to the
winds whipping around the mountaintop and their tiny shelter. His worries grew
with each gale as he recognized the distinct cry of the wolf. But exhaustion
took hold despite his concern, and he also yielded to the sandman.
Sarah was awake three hours
later. Her broken leg was causing severe discomfort. She wanted to shift
position, but any movement of her body worsened the pain. Then she felt a deep
vibration like a deep-ground earthquake. It lasted less than a minute, but an
odd, eerie blue light immediately appeared outside the plane's ice-covered
windows. It grew brighter as it moved closer. So bright she had to squint. She wanted
badly to sit up, but that was when she noticed a tall man standing over her.
She tried to scream but couldn't.
How could she warn Chet? She
was mute and frozen in place. The alien's eyes locked on hers. Large and diamond-shaped
with a cobalt blue pupil, the iris was that same brilliant azure color of the
light surrounding him. Even the sclera was a pale blue, or was it just a
reflection? While he held her gaze, she noted his height as seven feet or eight.
It was hard to tell as she was so low to the floor. And his skin, a dark gray,
almost black. Was he wearing a body suit? If so, it was skintight and showed well-defined
muscles and washboard abs. But like a Ken doll, he had no genitalia, and his
legs were just as muscular as his upper torso. No hair, no nose or mouth. Long
fingers, ten digits, but not human, clearly not human, she thought.
But his eyes held her, large,
probing, hypnotic. Is this a dream? I'm awake? Is he a rescuer? Why can't I
move? Panic rose as Sarah watched the tall, perfectly formed creature walk away.
No! Please don't leave!
Once the creature was gone, Chet
stirred and immediately jumped to his feet, grabbed the shotgun, and shouted, "Wait,"
as he disappeared into the blue light.
Sarah could finally move, but
immobile, she felt helpless and frightened beyond words. She placed her hand on
her womb, "It's all right, little one. It's going to be all right. I
promise."
Outside, Chet stood
uncomprehending what was happening. He saw no one, not even tracks, in the
fresh snowfall. But he did hear a loud whoosh as the air and snow around him flew
straight up from the ground, covering the area in a white fog. Then it grew
quiet. No sound, not even wind. Chet looked to the sky, and a flash of lights
ascended into the clouds. Was it real?
He rushed back inside. Seeing
the fear in Sarah's eyes told him it was, but it also calmed his nerves. He switched
on the LED lamps and stirred the fire. "It's a good thing Steve had all
the furniture crafted of burnable material and ordered fire logs as part of
your safety equipment. Still, in these storms, we'll go through it fast. It's
critical that we get below the tree line where we'll have ample firewood for
these cold nights. "Sorry, I don't mean to ramble. What do you say, since
we're both awake? A cup of cocoa?" he asked in a surprisingly cheerful
voice.
"Yes, please,"
Sarah whispered. Watching him closely, she wondered why he didn't mention the
strange man and the blue lights.
After melting snow in a pot
over the fire, she watched him prepare the concoction, adding the powdery cocoa
mixture and marshmallows to each cup.
"It's hard to believe
we're stranded on a mountaintop, but we have marshmallows for hot
chocolate," he said as he handed her a mug.
"Amazing that we have
cocoa," she said, still shocked by his response to what had just happened.
She watched the white mellows melt, blew on the concoction, and took a small
sip. "Perfect. Thank you," she said, her eyes full of questions.
He sat down on the floor
beside her. "I'm sorry I woke you. I just wanted to check the storm."
"You saw him, right?"
She barely whispered as she clutched her hot chocolate in both hands—"the blue
lights. I thought we were rescued, but I couldn't move. Not until he quit
looking at me?"
Chet forced a smile. "A
dream. A shame too. Rescue would be wonderful. But now I'm doubly sorry you woke
up that way." He lied because he knew better. He saw the man, the blue
lights, and those haunting eyes, and he, too, couldn't move until the gaze was broken.
But denying it as a nightmare was the only way for the unexplainable to remain
unspoken. He preferred it to be a shared nightmare rather than reality because
they already had too many worries.
"You're shivering. I
might be able to find another parka," Chet said.
"No, I'm fine. The
chocolate will warm me up from the inside," Sarah said and tried to give him
her best smile, but on the inside, she was screaming. Who was that? It
wasn't human. Oh, God, it wasn't human.
They drank their cocoa in
silence and despite the necessity of conserving battery life. Chet left the LED
lanterns on all night.
~~*~~
936
Words
Yolanda
Renée © 2023
Tagline: Even witnessed
phenomenon is not proof.
This is an excerpt from the 7th book of my Alaskan Series, Murder on Mount Fairweather, coming out December 2023. The first night after their plane crashes, this encounter occurs. At this point, I've not decided whether it makes the book, but it was fun to write.
XXX
Are you ready for the next
Wondering how to go about
preparing
writing
submitting?
Photo by Dare Artworks on Unsplash
Then Go HERE!
For all the details!
https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/p/challenges-2023.html
Photo by Matej Pribanic on Unsplash
Close Encounters
Our next challenge prompt
are you ready to share
give us a scare
a connection made
don't be afraid
whether love or hate
you have an open slate
friendship or enemy
emotion or entity
with or without a sci-fi slant
don't dare say you can't
it's all up to you
as imagination's your brew
so until the 21st
I bid you adieu
now get to work
prizes are the perk!
***
YRS © 2023
When submitting your work to a contest, it's always interesting to see and understand the reason for rejection. But, judging, how fair is it?
I thought you'd enjoy an example of the procedure and outcome. I leave it to you to decide.
This is my latest submission to a WOW flash fiction contest. 750 words maximum. $10 entry fee and an extra $10 fee for critique.
This is the critique, I recieved.
Photo by Yash Prajapati on Unsplash
Full Moon Confessions
Detective Cypress watched
his prey with interest. The man sat quietly, staring straight at him. "Creepy,"
he said to the Sergeant in charge. "It's as though he's looking through plain
glass. Why hasn't he been stripped of those clothes?"
Sergeant Jones answered, "Forensics
will be here any minute. They have his overcoat, plenty of blood on it."
"Good. What else?"
"Bastard claims his
name is J. T. Ripper, as in Jack the Ripper." Jones handed Cypress a file
and an evidence bag with a cell phone in it. "Happy Halloween, Cy."
He chuckled before giving a summary of his findings. "Fingerprints, DNA, name,
not in the system, but they do match all the evidence we've collected from the
crime scenes. Claims he's one-hundred-forty years old."
"Why not? It's about
the age the real Jack the Ripper would be," Cypress said thoughtfully as
he turned on the phone.
Jones gave him an odd look
but ignored the remark. "Well, it beats anything I've ever seen. He denies
everything, which doesn't make sense because we caught him red-handed.
Literally. The man was holding his last victim's heart in his hands when we arrived
on the scene."
"It's a full moon and
Halloween. They don't come crazier."
"Time to get his story." Cypress made the sign of the cross. [DR3] Then he entered the interrogation room.
Before sitting, Cypress
opened the file and deliberately laid out the picture of each victim while staring
into the black abyss that was the man's eyes. Eyes that didn't blink until the
man smiled.
Cypress sat, leaned back,
and folded his arms.
“The Master Interrogator. You've
done your homework," the man in black said.
"Dotted all the I's and
crossed all the T's. So, J. T. Ripper. What's your story?"
"Jack. Please, call me
Jack. How should I address you?"
"I kind of liked Master
Interrogator, but Detective Cypress will work too."
"A detective with a
sense of humor. Don't find that very often." Jack held out his left hand
because his right hand was cuffed to the table.
Cypress shook the man's
hand. Surprised at the strength it held. "Serves me well. So, Jack, what
motivates you?"
"Gets straight to the
point. I like that too." Jack said and sat up straight. "Well, Detective,
it's all about the fog."
"The fog?" Cypress
said, his curiosity piqued. "Please, explain."
"Simple, it's my
inspiration. Has been since I was young. I've seen all the 'fog' movies and
watched gleefully as the victims paid for their audacity. Slashers, horrendous
creatures, and hideous bugs have all hidden their evil in the obscurity of a
foggy night. But that's moviemaking. The scarier, the better. A walk into the
thick mist is super energizing."
"How so?"
"It allows me to
disappear, lurk, stalk, and, yes, kill with delicious precision. I bet you
thought I was going to talk about how I enjoy being swallowed by nature. How I
become part of the mist and relish the invisibility. Well, that's all true, but
for me, it's all about the victim."
"So, you admit all these
women were your victims?"
"Of course, why would I
deny it? I mean with today's science. It'd just be a waste of your time.
"I appreciate that, but
why these women?"
"They made the mistake
of walking into the fog. I don't choose them. They choose me."
"Just by walking into
the fog?" Cypress asked.
"Exactly."
"Or is it because you lured them there? After they rejected you?" [DR4]
"How'd you...know?"
"Because I know exactly
who you are." He laid the cell phone on the table. "Your Tinder
account told me everything."
"But it was encrypted!"
Cypress laughed. "My
expertise. Jack's last kill date? Really?"
The suspect caught in his
own web said, "I see." His bluster dampened.
"Sorry, but your
masquerade is at an end." Cypress snapped his finger, and Jones came into
the room carrying a yellow-lined tablet and a pen.
"Walk Mr. Terry O'Reilly
through the process. Make sure he gives explicit details. You got this, Jones?"
Cypress asked as he brushed his hair back and checked his appearance using the
mirror.
"Sure do. But be warned, Cy. They found another body. This one was torn up by an animal. Witnesses claim a wolf…a werewolf. [DR5] Here's the address." Jones handed him a note.
Cypress read the message. Under
the address were the words. "Just kidding about the werewolf. Couldn't
resist in front of this piker."
Wearing a grin, Cypress
turned and saluted Jones.
***
Word Count–747
©
Yolanda Renée 2022
CRITIQUE
Scores: 1-5
(5 being strongest):
Subject:4
Content:4
Technical: 4
OPEN PROMPT (Any genre in fiction)
Word Count: 750 max
Professional Evaluation of Full Moon Confessions
SUMMARY
Subject (Is it fiction? Appropriate for readers? Brief summary):
Answer: Yes, this is a work of fiction and appropriate for WOW! readers. In the light of a full moon, a murder suspect claims he’s Jack the Ripper, but he’s met his match with a seasoned detective.
Content (Is the story well developed? Is there a plot/point to the story? Is it compelling? Are the characters well-drawn?
Answer: This is a good story that flows nicely and has quirky dialogue. My only suggestion would be to add in a bit more character development to distinguish the two detectives. The story is tight regarding the word count but a few small tweaks will help break up the dialogue and give the two characters a little more distinction.
Technical (Did they follow the rules--is there a title and proper word count? Check for proper spelling, punctuation and grammar, correct tense, active not passive sentences, overuse of adverbs, use of "wrylies"):
Answer: This is a polished piece, with no grammatical or spelling errors.
Overview (This is where you give your general impression about the writing style, how the story affected you, etc.):
Answer: The story is well-developed, and as a nod to classic stories about paranormal/murder mysteries, it’s a fun read. My only critique is that the author should consider adding in a little more character behavior/description in between dialogue to break up the conversation between the detective and “Jack the Ripper.” I made suggestions in the story above. Great job! My suggestions are below:
[DR1] Is the phone password protected? How would he break
through this? Facial recognition? Something to think about given when this
story is set.
[DR2] Is the detective shaking his head here? Shuddering?
Add a brief description to break up dialogue.
[DR3] Great line!
[DR4] I'd suggest breaking up the dialogue here by giving a
small hint on the killer's face. Does a muscle twitch in his jaw? Does an
eyebrow raise? He knows the detective is
onto him so you should show his face betraying his calm exterior in some way.
[DR5] How does O'Reilly react to this statement? A roll of
the eyes? A smirk? Or does he simply ignore it?
*****
Do I agree with this critique? Of course not. 😄 I thought it was perfect. But as the writer I always do. Even so, I do agree with the suggestions that were made. Even with the tight word count, I could have added those reactions without taking away from the story or adding to the word count.
Although, Giving a score of 4 for each area also seemed a bit arbitrary, but as a judge with numerous stories to filter through, well, how well do you think you would do?
~*~
Full Moon Confessions is a recent Kindle Library Vella creation. Of which Detective Cypress is the star. I've started a selection of "Full Moon Confessions" highlighting the oddest of his cases. This story is one of them.
How well do you recieve a critique?
