#StoryaDay Spilled Coffee

My September Story a Day for the day.

Finally the assignment was complete. All night spent typing and retyping as the coffee pot emptied. Now all Shandra needed to do was send her professor a perfectly worded email with the email attached. 

Shandra leaned back to reread her email setting her coffee mug down. The mug plopped down a little too forcefully and spilled cold black coffee all over her laptop as it toppled over. ‘Sizze’…the computer hissed before the screen turned as black as the coffee staining the sheets of notes on the desk. An enite night’s work gone.


#FridayFictioneers Hit the Deck

I work on poetry at my other blog, A Full Cup of Tea, and dabble in some short stories and flash fiction here with the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. Every Friday authors from around the world gather to share their 100-word stories based on the photo prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff. We offer support, constructive criticism, and encouragement to each other. Readers are encouraged to comment. My contribution for the week follows the photo prompt below…

Also counting this as my September Story a Day for the day.

PHOTO PROMPT -© Vijayay Sundaram

PHOTO PROMPT -© Vijaya Sundaram


Boom! Pop ! Zizzle! BANG!

A loud bang sounded nearby followed by a red glow and the gleeful voices of children up the street. It was August there should be any more fireworks.

“Hit the deck!” James shouted as he jumped to  the ground and covered his head with the couch pillow. “We’re taking on fire!”

Both he and the dog had taken up sheltered positions behind the recliner before I finished checking out the window. “It’s just the kids up the street setting off the last of their fireworks,” I calmly explained as I turned up the TV.

-98 words-

Veterans, PTSD, and fireworks http://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/military-vets-ptsd-4th-fireworks-can-be-nerve-wracking-n602526


Story A Day Sept 30: Hoarder’s Revenge

“Poor Salem. That cat was the best friend I ever had. He was the best cat there ever was.” Mrs. Helms mused as she mixed together clicked and clanged in the garage mixing together solvents and chemicals into a vile connection.

“Don’t worry, Salem, I got the rotten vermin who poisoned you. I had to use some of my magic to catch him before he could run away, but I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine. And then I’ll get the others who put him up to it.” she continued as she stirred the fowl mixture.

Once her concoction was ready, Mrs. Helps expertly navigated the crags of trinkets and nick-knacks that replaced the walls of her home to wear the ventilation to the basement lay. She cleared off a spot next to the vent hole, laide the pot of poisonous liquid next to it, and lit it on fire. She then placed a fan next to the flambé so that the noxious fumes would make it down to the murderous Joseph, whom she had chained in the basement.

Story A Day Sept 29: Coffee Shop

Sam entered the coffee shop full of shopping warriors on the Saturday afternoon after Thanksgiving fueling up for a day’s worth of sale busting and packing wrapping. Christmas carols faintly fluttered in and out over the chattering of the noise and clanging of cups by the baristas. The sweet aroma of caramel and bitterness of expresso overpowered the tiny shop.

This is what made the coffee shop Sam’s favorite place. Even though he couldn’t tase the grade black coffee he ordered nor the pumpkin scone, the aroma of the coffee  and pastries overpowered his sense of smell in the tiny shop. For someone who could not taste the bitterness of his coffee nor the sweetness of the his scone, the fragrance of the coffee shop was heaven.

Every Saturday morning, Sam came to the coffee shop and ordered a coffee and a scone. It was his weekly ritual. One he desperately needed after another depressing Thanksgiving. Sam savored the perfume of his coffee as he watched the shoppers rush in and out. How he envied their ability to taste thier morning treats. How he pitied them for not taking the time to appreciate the gift they had.

Story A Day Sept 28: Willow Tree

Willow was small, quite sprite. She didn’t care much for the civil war waging in land of humans nor did she care for mischief her fellow sprites caused at the  expense of the humans. Willow spent most of her time caring for Nature’s temples, making sure they were in pristine shape, hoping to please the Mother.

Willow was on her way to one of nature’s temples on a crisp fall morning when she heard shouting. Normally she would have just went along her way, but the sobs of a young girls made her pause. She peaked from around the trees spying the commotion. Some boys quite a bit taller than the young girl with blond curls who sobbed were playing keep away with her doll. “Poor girl,” Willow empathized, for she had often been teased as just as this girl was now.

Willow was startled from her thoughts when one of the boys taunted, “You want your doll, come and get it,” and took off into the woods with the girl’s doll. The other boys followed laughing. The girl chased after the laughing crowd as a clumsy bundle of blond culs and tears. Willow ran after the girl. She caught up the the crowd at the edge of the river as the boy dangled the doll over the water with the girl pleading for her doll through a steady stream of tears.

The river was engorged by the recent rain fall. If the doll were to fall it would be swept away quickly in the fast moving current. Willow watched in disbelief as the boy tossed the doll into the middle of the river.

“No!” Willow screamed as the little girl raced into the river after her doll. The boys all stood and sated at the sprite. None going into to save the young girl who apparently could not swim as sunk beneath the river’s current and did not resurface.

Willow could not believe the boys would do this and then not try to stop the girl or try to save her. Without thinking of her own safety, Willow ran into the river after the girl. She swam underneath the current feeling for something, anything, finally something. The doll. She tossed it ashore and continued looking for the girl. She finally grabbed ahold fo the girl who was coughing river water, a good sign. She used up all energy finding the girl. She had nothing left to get them back to shore. She called on her magic to get them safe to the river bank. She just had to do something to save this girl’s life. Willow used all of her magic to get the girl safely to shore, saving her life.

A sprite that uses all her magic up can no longer exist, so Willow passes on the bank of the river next to the girl’s doll. Nature, however, had began to look for Willow when she was late to the temple that morning and had witnessed her great sacrifice. Nature could not revive Willow as a sprite, but enchanted her as Willow tree on the bank on the river. Her branches have pulled many a swimmer in over his head out of the swift river.

Story A Day Sept 27: The Massacre

MacDonald crested the hill at dawn that bitter winter’s morn to find a plume of smoke beginning to rise from what was no doubt his home village. A sign to turn around, stay away, but the journey home had been long and the call for home and family made even more powerful by the smell of burning homes.

As MacDonald ignored all the signs to keep away and raced his way down the hill to find his family in the panic, a soldier’s sword plunged deep into his abdomen. He prayed for his family that he was so close to reuniting with, as his warm blood spilled onto the snow.


Creative Copy Challenge #280

Story A Day Sept 26: Haunted Vampire

Count Alexandru had ‘lived’ for centuries yet still appeared to be a very handsom 30 years old. He just purchased a historic southern home outside of Atlanta most others of his kind would call him crazy for living in a such a sunny climate, but with Atlanta’s booming night life it was easy to mix in with the night crowd. Alex, as he called himself now, easily conned his way into a job at a night club. It was the perfect place to scope out his next meal and then retire to his plantation to sleep out the day in darkness.

They said the place was haunted when he bought it, the Claret House. A beautiful, small mid-1800 house with the white columned veranda out looking the gardens and yard lined with magnolia and pecan trees. Though the outside had been kept up for appearances  the inside contained small rooms in deteriorating condition, a real “fix-er-upper” as the realtor  had called it.  He smiled as he when he made the offer, for he would be the only one haunting the place now, or so he thought. Last night was Alex’s night off so he decided he get started on updating the interior of his plantation. He would need in prime condition when he need to resale and move on to his next identity.

When working in the dining room, Alex saw a woman in the front hall. He called out to her What was someone doing in his house? She didn’t respond, but turned and walked out the formal living room. Alex follower her there where she disappeared in front of the fire place. Alex had never seen anything like this in his 3 centuries. He frantically searched the wall and fireplace for a passage in which she might have gone. He found nothing and retired for the day.

Ne next night Alex awoke feeling odd. His face felt odd his hand and body looked as if it had aged. Despite the odd feeling he headed off to work anyway.

“Can I help you,” the manager said when he arrived.

“Very funny,” Alex answered in a tone that said he was in no mood for jokes.

“Alex is that you?”

“Yeah, and this isn’t funny”

“Dude, you look 20 years older! What happened?!”