Super Duper

My entry for the Community Storyboard’s Creative Writing Challenge, Day 7: Save the Day. Create a superhero who saves the day. “Mommy’s a superhero! Mommy’s a superhero!” “Annabelle!” I blushed and smiled gamely at my date. He’d just arrived and we were standing in the foyer when Annabelle had decided to careen down the stair.Continue reading “Super Duper”

I wanna rock!

A: I need the music loud and big tonight! D: How about some panpipes? I have a lovely set somewhere over– A: No, D – not any of your bard-y fireside music. I need big – it needs to be heard over a body of water – music. D: Ah, pipes, then? A: And drums.Continue reading “I wanna rock!”

To the very last

A: Only 1,339 words left! D: Think you’ll make it, A? A: You bet your mother-goddess worshiping Druid arse! D: Is this a thing with you? A: (Snicker). Just wait. It gets better. D: You terrify me sometimes, you know that? A: Only sometimes? Hm. Need to work on that. D: Lovely. Did you haveContinue reading “To the very last”

And so it goes

D: Admit it, A. You missed me. A: That was supposed to be my line. D: Perhaps – and perhaps I may yet answer it – but you missed the snark. A: Maybe. You aren’t nearly as fun in the book. D: I’m a Druid fighting for his life and the life of his chargesContinue reading “And so it goes”

Save Ionia, Save the World

D: Rodrigo? A: That’s what you have to complain about, D? The name of the Squirrel Commandant? D: It’s just that there’s so much, A. A: . . . D: Fine, it’s a lovely tribute, A. We all love Ionia and honestly I can’t imagine anything better than a war fought with cupcakes. There. AreContinue reading “Save Ionia, Save the World”

Out of My Head Over You

While A is away, the blog continues to play. Please welcome Andra Watkins of The Accidental Cootchie Mama. A:  This is all about Katie, isn’t it? D:  What is? A:  How horrid you’re being. You’re put out because she’s not here, and you have to deal with me, and I’m a pathetic substitute. D:  IContinue reading “Out of My Head Over You”

The House of Carrick Close

This old house is broken and sad/weary with years/it sits low on the land. Kate rolled her eyes and tuned out her mother’s atrocious poetry.  Bare trees reached up to the heavy February sky. It looked as dreary as she felt. No one cared what she thought; no one ever paid attention to the teenager,Continue reading “The House of Carrick Close”