Category Archives: Writing

What I’m working on and how it’s going

The Grocery List has a home

Bet you thought I meant my real list didn’t you? Nope! I mean my little Twitter fiction piece that will be published this coming Friday – June 1 by Cuento Magazine (@CuentoMag) on Twitter.

Never heard of Twitter fiction before? Well take 140 characters – or less if you need to fit your Twitter handle into the piece – and write a poem or prose story.  I find it to be great practice in brevity of thought.

Some Twitter fiction publishers post on their websites –

  • trapezemag.wordpress.com
  • onefortyfiction.com
  • nanoism.net
  • unfoldmag.wordpress.com

While Others go straight to Twitter

  • @CuentoMag
  • @7×20

Inspired? Give it a go!

But before Friday comes make sure you’re following me (@sammyjwebb) and Cuento Magazine (@CuentoMag).

See you in the Twitterverse!

Advertisements

4 Comments

Filed under Flash Fiction, Writing, writing fiction

Thursday Threads

Claiming victory for my Story a Day today and it’s again doing double duty as my Thursday Threads piece. This week’s sentence to tie our stories together:  ” It was so long ago, but the memories hadn’t faded.” 

I went back every fall to see the place where she died. It was so long ago, but the memories hadn’t faded, at least not for me.

The water was low this year and I could see the rocks at the bottom of the stream bed. Sharp, gashing rocks where she had bled to death.

My throat closed up and I started shaking as flashes of the scene rushed in. The auburn hair, half matted with blood and yet still floating in a cloud around her unblemished face, the wound hidden beneath. Her schoolbag laying on the ground along with her flute case, as if she’d stopped for a moment to look at something.

I grimaced and unclenched my hand. The rose and the few bits of my blood it had claimed arced out of my hand and were soon carried away by the swift current. Fitting that our blood should be forever mingled that way. After all, she’d died instead of me.

Ever the big sister, Mary Jean had offered to talk to my boyfriend for me. Help him see that we should break up. They couldn’t prove he’d killed her but I’d known and after fifteen years I’d finally gotten our revenge.

“You can rest in peace now. Car accident, at least that’s what the police report said.”

2 Comments

Filed under Flash Fiction, Story A Day, Writing, writing fiction

Abandoned at Death

May 4 for Story a Day. For my thoughts on the piece check out my Story a Day page.

Jen and Dave always enjoyed sitting the promenade near their favorite movie theater. They had a favorite quiet bench all the way at the end that was tucked behind a five foot high urn filled with plants.

In fifteen years of quiet talks they’d never seen anyone near that bench, hidden away as it was. Which was why the couple was surprised to find a phone on the bench one late spring day.

Jen was concerned about the owners missing it while Dave, always a bit more practical, tried to decide where it should be turned in so the owners might get it back.

And the n the phone rang.

“Answer it,” Jenn said, shoving the mysterious phone at her husband like it was a bomb about to explode.

“No,” an equally strident Dave replied. “It’s not ours. Better to let the them leave a voice mail.”

The phone stopped ringing and Jenn stopped shoving it at Dave. “Problem solved.” She smiled and handed it to a now willing Dave. :You were saying something about turning it in?”

“I was thinking about the box office. They probably see the more traffic than the other shops around here.

Jenn was just nodding agreement when the phone rang again.

“You’ve got the phone, answer it.” Jenn again insisted to her husband.

“No.” He was happy when the ringing soon stopped. “Oh look, There’s a text message.”

“Let me see.” Jenn grabbed the phone and opened the message. “It’s from a repair shop and they say the car is ready.” Her eyes lit up. “Now we can easily find out who the phone belongs to. Let’s call the shop and explain what’s going on. They can tell us whose it is.

Dave thought this was the perfect solution and Jenn carefully dialed the shop’s number. It was pick-up mid first ring.

“This is Marco’s,” A deep voice said on the other end.

“Oh I’m sorry. Wrong number.” Jenn hung up and tried again.

“Marco’s. How can I help you?” This voice was slightly higher.

Glad it’s not the same person, Jenn thought to her self. She wasn’t sure what to do. She threw a frantic look at Dave who of course just shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

“Is that you Benny? Hey where you been?” Jenn was frozen. This didn’t sound like a car repair shop. “Specially cause you were supposed to meet him at the promenade last Wednesday and you didn’t show.

“Uh,” her vocal cords clenched leaving her voice barely a whisper.

“You sick or something Benny?”

“Yeah, I need some chicken soup or somethin’,” Jenn managed to croak out while trying to signal her husband that something was wrong.

“Well that don’t matter. Boss still wants his money. You got that?”

Dave yanked the phone out of his wife’s hands and hung it up.

“What are you doing?” He was almost yelling as he pulled his shirt up to wipe Jenn’s prints off the phone and then put it back on the bench. “Come on, the show should be seating by now.”

Jenn just nodded and allowed herself to be pulled along.

Just as the couple reached the end of the boardwalk, three police cars sped up and stopped right in front of them. They froze and tried not to look guilty – of anything – they just weren’t sure what they might be guilty of. It just seemed the right thing to do at that moment. But the officers all headed toward the movie house and didn’t pay any attention to the gathering crowd.

Jenn noticed a woman who seemed well settled on a bench and went to ask her what was happening.

“Some kids said they found a dead body behind the theater. Say it looks like it’s been there about three or four days.”

“That’s horrible!” Jenn felt herself sway a bit.

“You okay? You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Jenn hurried back to Dave who was still watching the theater.

“There’s a dead body behind the theater,” she whispered in his ear. “And it’s probably been there about three or four days.”

Dave’s horrified look matched the one already on Jenn’s face and without needing to say anything they quietly slipped away.

That evening Jenn watched the news coverage and was unsurprised to find out the dead man had been Benny Clasto, a known member of a local drug gang. Within days a suspect from a rival gang had been arrested.

Jenn was fascinated by an interview with the victim’s older brother. “How could Benny be dead? I talked to him on Saturday and he asked me for soup. I just don’t understand. He was such a good guy.”

Dave smiled grimly. “My wife, requester of soup for dead guys.” Jenn glared at him.

They never went back to the bench again. It just didn’t seem so peaceful anymore.

Leave a comment

Filed under Story A Day, Writing, writing fiction

Behind the Risers

File:TromboneFamilyFillmore.jpg

Day 2 of Story a Day. For my thoughts on the piece  click here.

They hovered around us unsure of what was going to happen but knowing that they wanted to see it resolved.

So I punched him. Just hauled back and bottled up my fist (did remember to tuck thumb away) and punched him square in the gut. I swear his eyes grew to the size of lunch plates. I could tell what he was thinking.

“Yeah, a girl punched you. Now leave my section alone.”

He mumbled a bit, doubled over a bit, and stumbled back toward the practice rooms.

It felt good to see his usually sneering face transformed by pain.

I looked around at my boys and noticed they seemed more surprised by my short brutal act then the bully I had just stood up to on their behalf. “Remember boys,” I looked around my fellow trombonists with my new menacing glare. “Brass players don’t take shit from woodwinds.”

“We didn’t think you’d hit him.”

“Two years of talking hadn’t stopped him. What else was I supposed to do?” My second was standing next to me. “Remember,” I told him. “Next year you’re in charge of the section. I expect you to take care of them just like I’ve taught you.”

He gulped and wondered when high school orchestra had gotten so dangerous.

4 Comments

Filed under Story A Day, Writing, writing fiction

Tuesday Tales

Conjugal

Come join the Tuesday Tales fun. A picture prompt, a theme word,  What story can you weave with 100 words?

Read mine at Tuesday Tales or on my own Flash Fiction page.

Leave a comment

Filed under Writing, writing fiction