Little wonder we stumble in life.

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The Sad Truth is, Stephanie Meyer calls this a healthy relationship…

[Source: Serena Lawless’s tumblr]

“The newspaper headline screams: “Eighteen-Year-Old Slain by Husband after Giving Birth.” As you continue reading, you learn that the young woman was brainwashed by a strange blood-drinking cult who call themselves a “family,” though none of the members were actually related. The young woman’s husband was much older than she and had a history of violence. In fact, you learn that her husband used to stalk her prior to her marriage, watching her secretly from the woods near her home and climbing into an unsecured window at night to watch her sleep without her knowledge. Once the young woman, then seventeen, was initiated into a relationship with the man and his “family,” she was encouraged to marry right after her high school graduation. The young woman reportedly had bruises all over her body after returning from her honeymoon, where she also reportedly became pregnant. Her husband was not happy about the pregnancy and wanted her to have an abortion. She refused, eventually leading to him ripping the child from her womb, then, draining her of her blood until she finally stopped breathing. Sounds torturous and sick, doesn’t it? But in fact, this is the basis of a tween-teen literary phenomenon called the Twilight saga…”


Trifecta – Hollow

The autumn leaves crunched under her feet. It felt hollow like this, walking, crunching leaves, witnessing the world around her. Children playing, people talking, dogs walking.

It was a park, but it felt like a graveyard. It was too similar a place to her little brother’s grave. The wind whistled, blowing her hair. It was an empty gesture.

She headed home. It had been a long day.

Trifecta prompt.


Friday Fictioneers – Wicked

He was an ancient creature, living in a ghost world parallel to our own.

He envied the ghosts that stayed behind, tied to the earth by mourners, so loved that they were trapped. He was alone in his envy. He was surrounded by shadows, longing to return to the world of the living.

He watched them in his bowl of liquid silver, tempted every moment, longing for a world he could touch.

He dived in…

But he didn’t belong here. His face froze in the bowl, halfway between two worlds, waiting to be touched again, waiting to enter their forbidden world.

Prompt from the Friday Fictioneers.


Trifecta – Sensual

Warning: erotica, girl on girl

Everything about her was surreal, like she was a doll with a mind of her own. The way she slowly, slowly, lifted her leg up, smooth, soft, pointed, rid her mind of all doubt.

She stared. The woman was wearing a short black dress, and if she stared hard enough, she could almost see up it.

Her heart was pounding. She was quite literally getting hot under the collar, and she pulled at it, imagining her neck red with her hot blood flowing under the surface…

Sandra, devil in the black dress, queen of the party, lowered her leg to the floor, parallel to the other one, and slowly, slowly, parted them apart. Further, further…

White underwear. Supple flesh. Hot, dark…

Sandra reached underneath, teasing, pulling at her underwear… removing the purity, revealing her cherry…

She beckoned her with a finger, the happy ending to her night. “C’mere, baby… dust me with sugar…”

And slowly, slowly, she moved forward, the stranger in the night, and did exactly what Sandra told her, whatever she wanted.

Based on a minor character from the book I’m writing for NaNoWriMo this year, from Trifecta’s latest, surprising prompt.

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The Ivan Project, #68

“What do you want?”


She looked at him, ignoring the heat scratching at the surface of her skin. She didn’t care. She didn’t like him. “Forget it.” She turned to leave.

“Please,” he said sardonically, and she turned back.

“I mean it.”

“I’m sure you do.”

She looked back, suspicious. “Then what’s the problem?”

“You’re lying to yourself. Your head says no, but your body says yes.”

“Wow,” she said, “You really are arrogant.”


“You wish. Arrogant.”

“If I’m so arrogant,” he said, “why are you blushing?”

“I’m not,” she lied.

“Liar. You’re hot for me.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

“I’m too smart for you? How is that bad? I mean, for anyone besides you?”

“You always have to do the right thing. For once, why don’t you try being reckless, follow your heart?”

“Because that’s just your way of trying to manipulate me. I don’t have a problem, you have the problem. Don’t try to pass them off on me.”

“Everyone’s got problems –”

“Yeah. Except, yours are worse.”

She finally turned around to leave again. “This isn’t over, you know.”

“It never is.”

“You like me,” he sounded smug.

“No, just stubborn.”

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The Ivan Project, #67

“Well, that escalated quickly…”

She stood frozen, consumed by the sight of blood spattered under the truck. He was dead.

“No kidding,” she muttered back, still in a haze.

He was dead. And she was alive.

She didn’t awake from her haze until the morning after, rising from bed like a zombie from the grave.

She felt like one. Stiff and aching, and not just from the heart.

He was dead. How could she ever live with herself?

“Ooh! She’s awakened from the dead!” her father joked as she trudged from her room. She checked the clock. 11:30. She must’ve slept in.

“Not funny,” she grumbled.

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The Ivan Project, #66

“Whatever problems you have, it’s not from me!” he cried, pinning her against the window of the bus, and she could feel tears floating to the surface. She squeezed her eyes tight against the pain of her feelings and let her tears flow, despite being a public place.

“I don’t know why… I’m so fucking scared! I’ve… always been like this… I don’t know. Even before you. I’m just a… scared little bitch.” She finally broke down. After being victimised by him. After her long ago humiliation…

She confided in the one person she had. Even if he was a bastard. “Why am I so scared?”

He pressed his lips against hers. “I can help you with that.”

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The Ivan Project, #65

Priceless Paper: This link reminded me a lot of one of my characters, who might be led to a document such as this in her journey. Character sketch: Dawn.

Her answers. Brenda had finally come through for her. She smiled at the generic papers in her hand.

This was her one connection to her adopted sister, Belinda, long lost to the night. She still mourned her death bitterly.

Focusing in her eyes to the words laid out before her, she looked over the first page. Interests, education, personality of her real parents. Dawn rolled her eyes at that page; she already knew Brenda’s father well enough. She looked briefly at Brenda’s missing mother before turning the page over.

Daily routines, medical records…

She read over other details, care over Belinda; her parents were barely less lazy than her own had been, half of the care being diverted to their own daughter, just like Dawn’s early childhood.

Ah, but here was the penultimate question… why? ‘Financial gain’ is all it said.

That was it? Dawn felt her infamous temper mounted, ripping holes in the sides of the paper from the pressure she was inflicting upon it. Gently, Brenda removed it from her hands.

Furious eyes landed on her. “Don’t you even care?”