30 Day writing challenge: Day 10

The idea is to write 150-200 words a day for each prompt and to post it on this blog. At the end of the month, I’ll post the list of prompts if anyone is interested.

Prompt 10: Second date.

A second date isn’t really the type of thing you’re supposed to think of when the world ends. But as the worst of it settled down, all I could think of was taking her to my favourite diner near the police station.

Regina reached to my chest, had deep red hair and warm brown eyes. Her smile lit the office as soon as she stepped in with her small box of knick-knacks meant for her new desk. It took me several months to find the courage to ask her to have coffee with me. She wasn’t really someone you would easily forget. I couldn’t forget.

I had no idea where she was or what happened after the bomb dropped. I tried the phone first, but the line was dead. When it looked safe enough, I walked down what was left of the street toward the diner. It was so close. We would never have that second date. The world- my world had ended. What did it matter?

I sat down by a bench that seemed sturdy.

We would have sat there. It would have been nice.

It would have been nice..

(191 words)

It’s Fallout inspired.

30 Day writing challenge: Day 7

The idea is to write 150-200 words a day for each prompt and to post it on this blog. At the end of the month, I’ll post the list of prompts if anyone is interested.

Prompt 7: Is that blood? No?


“Is that blood?”

Wendy moved the torch toward the entrance of the cave. “No?”

“What is it then?”

We walked toward the mouth, looking around for anything injured or dead. Professor George had made us come down for samples and now we found ourselves stuck on the alien planet, having to wait for him to return.

“I don’t think it’s blood,” Wendy said. She bent down and swiped some up with her fingers. She rubbed it between her finger tips. It wasn’t sticky. She held it up to her nose. “Doesn’t smell like it.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” I said, turning my torch up toward the ceiling of the cave. Something was dripping from up there. Wendy wiped her fingers off on her leg.

“Do you think it’s coming from there?”

There was a crackle of thunder. Rain started pouring down like a curtain. Wendy started to laugh. “Now we know for sure it isn’t blood. It’s rain!”

“I can’t wait to get off this hell hole,” I said.

(171 words)

Red rust

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

106th Challenge

This week’s prompt comes from The ForesterArtist

Go and have a look!

Red Rust

The group all crouched down, copying her as she looked out into the forest.

“It’s a car,” Carl said.

Everyone relaxed. Laylas walked out toward it, lowering her gun.

“We must be close to the city,” she said.

She ran her hand over the rough, rusted metal. They needed to find medicine for their mother. Only hardened Jaguar Warriors were sent to the city to find anything that the village could use. Laylas imagined the city would look a lot like the car; stripped and laid bare.

“We should stop a while,” she said, looking at Carl. “Rest while we can.”

“No. If Jaguar Warriors catch us, they’ll kill us.”

The rust left red dust on her fingers. Laylas smeared it across her cheek, pretending to be a blooded member of the Jaguars. Carl didn’t find it funny. He licked his thumb and wiped away her stripes.

“You’ll get us killed before they ever find us,” he said. Laylas quickly fell in behind the rest of the group, some rust still on her fingertips.

(174 words)

*Jaguar Warriors were inspired by Aztec Military. I watched a video about it the other day where it was briefly explained. It seemed like a good idea for a post- apocolyptic society. You can read about it here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaguar_warrior

*Laylas was meant to be Layla, but I accidentally added an S and now I like it.

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But why is it green?

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Prompt provided by Jade M. Wong

Why is it green?

“Why is it green?”

The merchant pulled on the hanging light. “It changes colour when there is danger.”

“Like a security light?” Mother asked.

He nodded. It’s rude to stare, I know, but he wore a string of pearls around his neck. Mother pulled me away when he placed it in my hands. She took them and threw them into the dusty street. I picked them up again when she wasn’t looking.

While mother looked at pots, I held my nose to the air for the fried dough and grilled meat stalls that were just ahead. I wasn’t allowed any. Mother bought a red rug for the kitchen. She still refused to wear shoes when she cooked, and always complained about the cold floor.

The pearls became like hot coals in my hand. I dropped the string onto the street. We had walked in a circle and was back at the light merchant’s stall. The strange green light we had been looking at was now red.

The merchant stepped out in front of me and placed a slimy hand on my shoulder.


I’ve been away from my blog the entire November while I was doing NaNoWriMo. I finished on day 28 with 95,065 words. The first 50 000 words I can use, but the other 40k will need a lot of attention if I want to do something with the story.

But anyway, I’m happy to be back 🙂

Earth needs you

#writing #prompts:

One of the daily prompts from: www.sarahselecky.com

Instead of using the first line from the last paragraph on the page, I used the first sentence from page 51.

She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Why is there always so much blood?”

The White Rose by Amy Ewing

She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Why is there always so much blood?”

Catherine squeezes Desdemona’s shoulder. “We’re doctors, love. Scientists. It comes with the job.”

“Don’t you dare baby her any further,” Napoleon says, throwing down towels and linen to mop up the blood. “She knew what she signed up for.”

“We never agreed to hurt anyone.” Desdemona pulls the sheet from the alien’s corpse. It’s chest still open, and its heart silent. “We have no right to do this.”

“If it’s for the good of the people,” he says. “Then we have no choice. It’s us or them. If we can find a cure…”

Catherine places herself between them. She looks at what they had done and takes the sheet back from Des to cover its face. “We’re very close to a cure. We only need to find a handful more to make the cure. It won’t be for nothing.”

Napoleon’s eyes are still burning holes into Des. “Without you we’re all doomed.” Their names are being called. There’s already a fresh body in the other room. He holds out a scalpel to her. Catherine turns to Desdemona.

“We need you.”

Desdemona’s hand reaches out. Her fingers brush the metal for a second before she takes it from his hand.

The boyfriend and I might have been watching a lot of X-files lately.  Make of it what you will.


Almost did it

Monday’s finish the story

Mondays Finish the Story

Finish the story begins with: “Delphine always wanted to pilot her father’s plane and when he forgot his keys on her tenth birthday, she knew that taking off would be easy.”

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Thanks to Martin Furman for the opening line



Almost did it

Delphine always wanted to pilot her father’s plane and when he forgot his keys on her tenth birthday, she knew that taking off would be easy.

She dodged the securi-bots patrolling the hallway, knowing to keep low and out of their view pointer’s way. The hanger was dark. Delphine switched on her torch, an ancient relic her mother had brought from the museum. The light shone toward the door where her father’s plane waited.

She heard loud foot steps coming. It sounded like the heavy boots of her father. Delphine hid behind a storage crate and put off the torch.

The footsteps came closer. She held her hand over her nose and mouth. The heavy boots stopped next to her.

“Nothin’ here.”

Delphine waited until it was quiet. The door was so close. She peaked her head out and darted toward it with her shoes in her arms.

At last she was inside.

She turned the keys, bringing the plane to life. Suddenly it was dead, and her father’s face appeared on the monitor.

“Delphine, what do you think you’re doing?”


I went a little over with 155 words.

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