#SixWordSaturday – Explosion


Too many words unsaid.  An explosion.



Piya Singh

Everywhere she went, it was too loud.  She couldn’t think or speak or breathe.  All she knew was the hot, frantic pounding of her brain.

She left the noise.  She found a place in the woods, quiet and cool.  The first days were bliss.   Her brain quieted.  She slept for hours under a green canopy of trees.

The noise returned, louder and more chaotic.  She’d never escape it.  She walked deeper into the woods until she reached the lake, her pockets filled with stones.  She jumped, plunging deeper and deeper until she reached its bottom, and the silence.

For Friday Fictioneers


Roger Bultot

Blackbirds began to land on the roof of the building as we entered.  I leaned on my boyfriend’s arm for strength.  He thought it was the depth of my grief that made me so fragile.

We were there to say our final goodbyes to Samantha. All I could think about was the last night of her life, when I’d been too busy to be her friend.  Those three missed calls.

“Why did Samantha think she was alone?  Why didn’t she ask for help?”  Her father implored from the podium.  It was then that I started to cry.

For Friday Fictioneers



London was just what Sasha needed.  She was stagnated back in the States.  She could barely think anymore or breathe.  Getting up in the morning and doing simple things like shower and dress and prepare breakfast seemed monumental.  She exhausted herself just thinking about it.  But not here.  This morning, she leaped from bed, before Flynn even.  There was always something new and different to experience everyday in this foreign place, and Sasha couldn’t get enough.

They were viewing their 10th flat of the day and Sasha was in love.  An updated sunny kitchen, and a cozy bedroom that got the perfect amount of natural light.  It was just the right size for the two of them.

“I’m sold,” Sasha said to Pippa, their realtor, who nodded her shiny blond head and turned to Flynn.

“I’m not sure.  The bedroom is very small…”

Sasha groaned.  “We’re going to have to compromise on some things, babe.  This is the best we’re going to find in the city.”

Flynn kissed her temple to placate her.  “I’d just like to see a few more places before I make up my mind.”

Sasha relented.  “Fine.”  It was Flynn’s work that had brought them here in the first place.  She owed him.

As the trio left the flat, Sasha missed the faraway look in Flynn’s eyes as he stole a glance at their gorgeous realtor.



“Where were you today?”

“Yeah, everyone was asking for you.”

It was the beginning of an interrogation. Kendall’s shoulders slumped.  She took a long sip of her wine, immediately feeling its effects.  Her antidepressants already made her sleepy.

“I didn’t feel well,” she slurred.

Mara, the oldest sister, groaned loudly as Kendall’s eyes lowered.  “Really, Kendall?”

“We ALL have bad days,” Lane, the middle sister, added, her tone dripping with fake compassion.  “I wasn’t feeling all that great either, but I pushed past it and got through.”

“We’re getting tired of having to cover for you all time.  People ask for you and we don’t know what to say.”

“Why do you care so much if I’m there or not?  What does it matter?”  Kendall asks, her hand shaking as she lifted the glass once again to her lips, droplets of wine falling onto the table.

“It’s about how it looks, Kendall.  We’re sisters.  Why won’t you let us in?”  Lane asked.

Kendall dabbed at the spilled wine with her napkin, not looking her sister in the eye.  “Because you don’t see me.”

“What does that even mean?!”  Mara yelled in frustration.

Kendall dropped the napkin to the floor and rose from the table without a word.

“And now she’s leaving,” Lane commented as Kendall walked past, throwing her arms in the air.

I’m already gone, Kendall thought.


Kendall opened her eyes.  She was in a strange room filled with light, surrounded by beeping machines, her nostrils filled with the smell of antiseptic.  She wasn’t sure how much time had passed.  An initial wave of despair and disappointment washed over her as she realized she’d failed.  I can’t even do this right.

A nurse leaned over her bed.  “You’re awake!  I’ll let your sisters know.  They’ve been waiting for…”

“I don’t want to see them.”

“Are you sure?  They…”

“I’m sure.”  She gave the nurse a tight smile.  As she left the room, Kendall laid against the pillows and closed her eyes.  In her dreams, she saw a woman, standing outside in a sun shining so brightly she had to squint her eyes, alone but happy.  She had a second chance and she wasn’t going to waste it.





I need a break. I’ve escaped to the backyard, lying across the little red bench tucked away in the corner.  Dinner is continuing without me indoors.  I hear the clink of silverware and glasses through the open windows.  The clash of angry voices.  My stomach starts to clench.  My head swims.  I won’t be able to sit upright.  I wonder how long it will be before they realize I’m not in the bathroom.  I’ll never understand a person that enjoys spewing bile and hatred, who favors confrontation over harmony.  How do you tell someone that they don’t fit in your life anymore?  That being around them literally makes you physically ill?

A few deep breaths later and I am finally able to stand.  I hear my name being called inside.  I rush around the side of the house to where my car is parked, thankful I thought to bring my purse with me.  As my turn my car in the direction of home, I realize that I’ve found my answer.

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Six Sentence Story – Again


“I can do this,” she whispered to herself, taking deep breaths as she retrieved the oatmeal cookie from the floor.  She didn’t know it would be so hard just to get her son to talk to her.  Her beautiful boy was trapped inside himself.   He hadn’t spoken all day.  With a smile, she held up a fresh cookie, kneeling next to her son.  

“Darling, let’s try this again.”

The prompt for the Six Sentence Story challenge this week was can.

Mindful Moment – A Domestic Disaster

Structure is not my strong suit.  Since I was a kid, I’ve kind of run around like a chicken with her head cut off, flitting from one project to the next, getting easily overwhelmed, filled with frantic energy, rarely finishing what I start.  I learned after I became an adult that there is a word for that frantic energy – anxiety.  Getting diagnosed and learning through therapy how to live with anxiety has been invaluable.

We’re always taught to finish what we start – your room isn’t really clean until your closets are organized and every speck of dirt has been wiped away, do all of your homework, even if you’re up until the wee hours of the morning.  I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with any of those things, it’s just that my brain doesn’t work this way.  I only know two speeds – 0 or 100.  I look at a sink full of dirty dishes and think screw it, I’ll wash them tomorrow, or I get frantic and scrub all the dishes, clean out the cabinets, mop all the floors, clean all the bathrooms, do 10 loads of laundry, vacuum…well you get the picture…then I’m exhausted and do nothing for the next two weeks.

Now, I give myself a set amount of time to clean, or tackle any other project I don’t particularly enjoy.  If the project isn’t done by the time the allotted time is over, it will be there tomorrow.  Before diving into housework,  I give myself time to transition from work mode to wife mode.  Me time.  It’s what keeps me sane.  I take the dog for a long walk, or write.  Sometimes I read or wander around Target, or just do some deep breathing.  I allot time to be social, so I can make sure to maintain the friendships I value so much, and of course couple time for me and the hubby.  I’m much happier and much more at peace, knowing that somehow I’m learning to manage my life.   I can do it all, I just can’t do it all at once.

On another note, I hope to follow this same philosophy when I tackle NaNoWriMo next month.  The regularity of my blogging with slow down, but I’ll still be here, hopefully updating you on my progress.  I’d love to hear about your experiences if you’re participating as well.