September Writing Challenge – Windows to the Soul

Here’s my flash for today – Windows to the Soul.

Her eyes had seen too much devastation for what limited time she’d been alive.  Eleven was too young to be subjected to a lifetime of war, famine and strife.  She’d never known peace.  Never known youth and had never known innocence.

Through the course of her very short life, she aspired to bring about the change to her country that would allow those of the next generation to know all the things that she did not.

She died trying to better her world, not for herself, but for all the others living in oppression.


September Writing Challenge – Solace

Here’s today’s flash based on the below image. Enjoy!


Hoodie drawn over her face, she tried to be as inconspicuous as possible.  She wanted to be a wallflower, but her six foot frame seemed to scream her approach to everyone on the street.  People always asked if she played basketball or some other sport relegated to the height-advantaged, but Kayla only wanted to blend into the background and drift off into a world of her own making.

Finally reaching her destination, she shrugged off her sweatshirt, allowing her face and body to be seen by the only things she truly cared about.  Her local library was a solace against the teasing she endured every day at school for being gangly, clumsy and extremely shy.  Here the books didn’t judge her; instead they catapulted her into far off places where she could be the heroine or the damsel in distress.

To Kayla, it didn’t really matter as long as it wasn’t here.

152 words

September Writing Challenge – Freedom


Clutch on to the privilege,

while waiting for someone to steal it away.

Not a flight of fancy,

nor something that is deserved by few.

We often take for granted

all that we have within our grasp.

This day of all days has made us remember

what it really means to be free.


Always remember, never forget – 9/11/01

September Writing Challenge – Second Chances

Here is today’s little bit of flash.


Second Chances

Growing up, I always imagined I could be whatever I wanted.  I could leap tall buildings with a single bound or sing on my favorite variety show or even be the first woman to go to the moon.

I thought I could save the world.

Then I grew up.

Some dreams changed, developed or were dropped because they were simply flights of fancy.  As time marched on, with every passing year, it seemed to take a small chip out of every dream I ever had.  Some years were only fragments, while others were huge chunks that dropped from my soul like soaking wet clothes falling to the ground.

Cynicism reigned supreme after a while, leaving me empty and lost and unsure of if I even had a dream to begin with.

Then the sun rose over my life, giving me a second chance on those dreams.

My children are now the creators of crayon masterpieces and recorder symphonies, but they remind me to dream big every single day.  If not for myself, then for them.  Their wonderfully magical optimism is an infectious disease that I have no desire to remedy.


190 words

Swansong to Summer – Daily Picsperation post

Here is my Daily Picsperation Post from yesterday.  Enjoy!

Title: Swansong to Summer

Sitting on my chaise lounge, I shielded my eyes from the late afternoon glare trying to see out across the water. The sun was hanging low in the sky, almost feeling like it too was resisting the final push towards autumn. While it technically wasn’t the last day of summer, it was Labor Day weekend which meant most people were closing up their rental houses and moving back home, an end to their vacations.

Living at the beach had its perks, and one of them was never having to pack up and say goodbye to the salty sea air. The other was being privileged to watch the seasons come and go, bringing with them fresh vacationers ready to tackle new adventures. There was always something special about watching a child’s first interaction with the ocean. It didn’t matter if the person was two or twelve, that first time seeing something so vast and open, and the sheer power and strength its waves could produce was awe inspiring.

I would often sit on my deck, overlooking the hustle and bustle of all the beachgoers. I couldn’t help but admire the fit, nubile twenty-something girls, strutting around in their bikini’s begging to be noticed by everyone in their midst. Equally impressive was watching a seasoned pro maneuver her brood of three kids along with all their beach gear without snapping at her children or dropping a single shovel.

Then there was the beauty of the often written about, summer romance. From June until August, I saw couples meet, mingle, mate and eventually meander back home, leaving me none the wiser to the completion of their romantic entanglement. For the most interesting couples I would make up their conclusions in my head, or if they were really inspiring, jot them down, hoping to add some piece of their relationship into my next novel.

Unfortunately, today I was too tired to do anything but watch and smile, knowing this would likely be the last summer I’d witness. Age was a cruel thing, and seventy-seven seemed to be my lucky number. I was at home in hospice care, my family visiting for what would be the last time before my demise.

Emerging from the sea, three of my granddaughters ran up towards the house, each surrounded by a colorful beach float, asking me to watch and rate each of their jumps over the knee-high surf. With a small wave, I indulged their fancies, rating them for style, height and originality. When the winner had been crowned, they all surrounded me in a joint salt-watery hug, one that I would cherish for the remainder of my days, however few there were.

In the meantime, I’d enjoy my swansong to summer, lazily enjoying the earth’s bountiful gifts, one day at a time.

September Writing Challenge – Deprogrammed – Flash Fiction

Here’s today’s flash story. Enjoy!


189 words

She gazed off towards the exit, wishful that she would be able to leave this horrible place instead of waiting in line for her next meeting.  That wasn’t happening though.  She’d been through this line before and knew the drill.  Every resident in this hell-hole spent fifteen minutes being deprogrammed every day.  And by ‘deprogrammed’ what she really meant was tortured in various ways to remove all hints of rebellion out of their blood.  The adults thought they were doing us a favor, our parents having dropped us off in an effort to make us people they could be proud of.  But what they didn’t realize that their attempts at brainwashing us into being bland and ‘normal’ actually did the opposite.

Our uprising was imminent.  I needed to hold on for one more treatment, through one more horror filled afternoon hoping my brain and stamina would hold out until it happened at precicely midnight tonight.

“Alecia, you’re up.”

Looking longingly towards the exit one last time, I pulled my shoulders back and walked back to the torture chamber, willing my mind to relax and focus on the prize.