Little wonder we stumble in life.


Friday Fictioneers – Deserting Home

Copyright - Janet Webb

There was no going out tonight. Not here, not ever again… I couldn’t even take my writing. I left my dress hanging out over the balcony, and my notebook there on my bed.

I felt a tug from my heart as I left my bedroom for the last time. We could take nothing with us. It was too poisonous, the radiation already exceeding the Ukraine.

I was just a teenager. I didn’t want any of this. Leaving everything I knew and loved. My mama held me in her arms. Within hours, the streets would be empty.

Time to leave… Chernobyl.

For Friday Fictioneers.


Trifecta – Appear

It might look like a pleasant neighbourhood, a pleasant city, a pleasant lifestyle, but switch on the news, and the surface that would appear was starting to crack. And underneath that… was a turmoil of businessmen overthrowing government.

And among them, was Seth.

She couldn’t ignore it anymore, the evil he had become, even if Dylan continued to deny it.

She still loved her brother, after all, and couldn’t bear to admit him to be the corrupt being. She would speak against the crowd, just like any politicians family ever had, denying claims, true or false, that people charged him with.

No, he was not elitist.

No, my brother cares about the consumer.

No, Seth is a bit upright, but he’s not cold.

No, Seth did not cause hundreds of the lower classes to lose their homes. He is not involved in buying out the government, covering up his company’s losses or scamming his way out of his taxes.

Seth has more integrity than that. Seth isn’t what he appears to be.

But his was the only appearances that were true. Andrea knew it… he was cruel and unapologetic. Who knew if he had already crossed that line? He’d never admit it if he had.

She had to find out for herself. She looked between Dylan and her own father. She couldn’t let them know… However she felt about Seth, she had to do this, even if it meant possibly putting herself in danger. She felt too much for him to just let this go.


She wandered through the big house, while her father slept in her room, while they slept.

As she entered one room, the door creaked. Slowly, slowly, she listened to the sound, careful not to wake anyone up, as she snuck into the room.

His office. Papers, files, photos… What else?

She picked something up. Her eyes went wide as she went through it. What…? How did he get this?

He had her adoption papers.


Tale for Trifecta.

This piece is actually for a longer piece I’m writing. So thanks for the extra push, Trifecta.

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Writing is like Exercise

I was recently rewriting my About Me page, when I started thinking about hobbies I enjoy. One of them, which I didn’t mention, is Boxing.

Recently, within the last two months, I’ve started eating healthily and exercising. I now go to the gym and I have a personal trainer named Jess. I often do boxing exercises when I work out with Jess; I find it motivates me, I enjoy it, and I’ve always carried a store of anger with me that it lets me express.

Exercise also helps me in my writing, if for no other reason than my characters live active, dangerous lives, and working my body helps me put myself in theirs.

But I’ve also begun thinking recently that, although many writers don’t do a whole lot of exercise — indeed, for a while in my own writing, I’ve used the fact that I’m a writer as an excuse why I didn’t have to exercise — the two activities aren’t so different.

Both require discipline of sorts. Both are beneficial; one to the mind, and the other to the body. I’ve even begun to think that the two things together are important to the whole, that a person needs both to be a satisfied or balanced person.

Balance, I’ve thought for a while now, is important in anyone. Not extremes, which makes you biased and closed-minded, but a medium between them.

Of course, I believe that bias is inevitable in any person. No matter who you are, I believe there’s always something to overcome. But the point is, in the case of brain vs. brawn, of athletes versus writers, there need not even be a contest.

If books are soul food, then exercise is just as important for movement. That feeling in your muscles… is life speaking to you. And that’s just as important as the words you use to describe it.