April/May Challenge – Mow Money

Subject: Add Some Humor
Setting: Any
Time Period: Any
Length: 500 Words
Restrictions: None
Due: Next Month

Thank you Stephen for setting this challenge up.

It has been a while but I am pretty much set up here in Japan. I still do not have home internet nor TV…. but when you live in Japan you just need to learn how to “gaman” (settle for the lowest possible result).

I’ve missed not writing as much as I use to, so I am back at it. This is a real life story (kind of) of the real person (sort of) named Evets Relhots. Inspired by real life events…


This was it! This was the day Evets was finally going to buy it. He can finally make the purchase he had been saving for since …  well forever. His knees were shaking as he carried all his money into the store in his pockets. He was not nervous, his legs just shook a lot. A salesman rushed to greet him, but Evets held up his hand and curled his lips so much out of spite that his lips almost touched his nose. He knew what he wanted and he didn’t need some young-in trying to slick sell him something else.

“Begone,” he said under his breath allowing his lips to take their natural position of slightly hanging off to the right.

“Be sure to let me know if you need me,” the salesman said, walking away.

Evets ignored the man and walked right to the red beauty. He admired its wheels all shiny and new. He bent down and looked at his reflection shining back at him in the shiny red surface. Evets licked his lips and ran his tongue around the three teeth in his mouth. He looked over the price sticker counting his money in his mind ensuring he had enough to finally buy it. He started thinking of all the place he could go with his new wheels and how all the chicks in the neighborhood would likely be knocking on his door when they see the white walls on the tires.

“Engine,” Evets muttered under his breath as though his mouth was telling his brain what he had forgotten to remember.

Evets looked over the engine carefully knowing the engine was the most important part of this purchase. He noticed the thing-a-mc-bob and the turner-oner-thingy and ran his fingers down the thingy-mcdoodle.

“Yep, engine’s in fine shape,”  he said to himself nodding his head with his arms folded across his chest.

“Sir, can I help you,” A female voice called out.

“Whaow! Where’d you come from?” he asked, turning to see a young lady with blonde hair almost as long as his own white hair.

“Do you need help or not,” she asked again.

Evets stood up as straight as he could with his arched back and bad knees and looked the little younger in the eyes … that were above his own. “I’ll take this red little beauty today,” Evets said with pride.

“Cash or will you be charging this to your card?”

Evets fumbled in his pockets taking out several coins and crumpled up bills. “I’ve got it all right here, little lady. Now you just go get me the keys and I drive this thing home.”

“Umm, right.” She said taking the money from his hands as Evets dug back into his pockets for more.

An hour later when Evets finally unloaded the wealth from his pants, a very tired saleswoman said, “here you go,” handing Evets the receipt.

Evets was so excited, he took that receipt from her hands and jumped straight in the air a few inches. He looked back over to his red beauty and said, “I’m taking you home, baby.”

With a smile as wide as his face, Evets pushed his new lawn mower back home.

April/May Challenge – Funny Stuff

Subject: Add Some Humor
Setting: Any
Time Period: Any
Length: 500 Words
Restrictions: None
Due: Next Month

Since Grant is still in the middle of his big move( and it’s already the middle of this month), we’ll give this one a month and a half.  The premise is simple; write a story that is either humorous throughout or incorporates humor in some way.  If you’re not a fan of humor, then you can try your hand at wit, humour, hilarity, comedy, or jocularity instead.

March Writing Challenge – The Will

Subject: Shifting POV
Setting: Any
Time Period: Any
Length: 500 Words
Restrictions: None
Due: This Month

So here’s something I tossed together this month.  It’s probably longer than 500 words.  My intent was to find a way to go third-person to second to first to second to third, but that didn’t really pan out with the story I had in my head.  So it’s third to first to second to third to something to third.  It also doesn’t read as perfectly as I might want it to, were I to try to publish it.  If I were to do that, I’d definitely go back and clean it up a lot more and add some flavor (build the scenes out more, establish a bit more of the characters, etc.).


Frank frantically knocked on Jean’s door while simultaneously trying the door knob. Jean got up from her desk and calmly opened the door.

“Come on in, Frank,” she said with an exasperated tone. She knew what was going to come out of his mouth before he even said it. She didn’t want to do this, but she knew it was finally coming.

“Jeannie! Thank God you’re here! The cops are after me and they say they’ve got proof I did it! But I ain’t done nothin’! You know that! They won’t stop chasin’ me ! Come on, I gotta go! I’ve gotta get out of here!” Frank’s mouth could barely stop running as fast as his heart beat.

Jean went back to her desk and sat down. “Pull up a chair, Frank. I gotta tell you about what I’ve been doing,” she said as slow and calm as she could. She knew he was on edge and was ready to run at any minute. “You hired me to investigate this case and that’s just what I’ve done. The last day has turned up a lot…”


After you told me about your trip back to your father’s house and how you found Sharon there rifling through Tom’s desk, I figured Tom’s will might not have actually been with his lawyer.

I took a late night trip to Tom’s and decided to do a little digging. It surprised me that even though Tom’s been in the ground for two weeks now, Sharon still hasn’t bothered to change those locks on his office door. That’s kinda dangerous since Tom’s killer is still on the loose, but I guess Sharon isn’t too worried about it.

Tom’s desk didn’t reveal anything new, which makes sense. The cops did a pretty good job going over that. The only new thing I could find was a few pictures of your father and Sharon in a drawer mixed in with older love letters between him and your mother. It was a shame to see her go, but it was good to finally see him happy and moving on. When he would smile, everybody in the room would feel it. And he hadn’t smiled much since Helen’s death, had he?

Sorry… I’m getting off track, it’s just that your father was a great man and whoever did this must’ve had a serious grudge. Anyways, I took a step back from the scene and realized that if he really wanted to keep that will a secret then he wasn’t going to hide it in the first place anyone would look.

So I headed downstairs. None of you have wanted to go into that basement since Helen died down there three years ago, so it made sense that if he really wanted that will hidden, the basement was the best place to go. There were cobwebs and dust over everything. There’s so much of Helen down there that all of you have tried to hide to help get over her. But there was one thing that looked odd.

In all of that dust and dirt it’s easy to follow someone’s tracks. A pile of boxes looked like they had been drug out of the corner and then pushed back into place. I pulled them back and found the concrete underneath had been torn up and replaced. I tossed the concrete chunks to the side and dug through a few inches of soil and found everything I needed to close this case.

Still not following me, Frank? Well, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but he was on to Sharon and he had me trailing her even before he died. But here’s the thing, I also discovered something I didn’t get a chance to show him before he died.

Now don’t get all worked up, Frank. Calm down. It’s over now. Officer Pendleton is actually over there in the other room. I’m the one who told them about you. Sharon has already been brought in for her part in this, but they weren’t completely sure about you, so that’s why we set this little meeting up.

Not gonna fess up yet, Frank? Well, let me walk you through it.


You weren’t a big fan of Sharon when she first started dating your father. She was half his age and seemed like she was just there for the money. But after a while, you came to like her.

The two of you were even starting to get kinda close. You started taking walks around the grounds together and taking canoes out on the lake. Tom noticed it too, but he didn’t want to say anything. That’s why he was such a great guy. Even if things were falling apart around him, he’d do what he had to to keep his family happy.

So you and Sharon kept getting closer. Close enough to end up in bed together. At the rate you were going, you were never going to move out of your father’s house. But you also couldn’t stand the idea of sharing the same woman, could you? And she must have confessed that she was really in love with you around that same time because that’s when things started getting colder between the two of you and him.

It was around two or so months ago that the two of you started looking into his will. He was already talking about changing it and you both got suspicious. You wanted to know who else could be involved in getting his money, so you started snooping around.

It was that night he caught you searching through his desk that it all came to a head. You were both shouting, he told you that you needed to get out of the house and then you lost it.

Sharon came down while you were both yelling and knew it wasn’t going to end well for either of you. She went to your gun safe and got your revolver. Then either you or her took that shot as Tom started to walk out of the room. Both of your prints showed up on that gun so the only question that remains is who pulled the trigger. What we do know is that you must have been the one to run the gun back to your safe because you knew the staff would show up soon.

So when everyone came in, you both played it innocent. Sharon had already cracked the back door to make it look like someone ran out, so everyone thought they were looking for some outside party.


“It was a pretty good crime,” Jean said, lighting her cigarette. “You both could have gotten away with it if it weren’t for what I’d found in the basement. You thought he still had the original will with the lawyer, but he’d taken it out a few days before to start making changes.” She dropped the documents on the desk in front of her. Officer Pendleton had come out of hiding in Jean’s bedroom and stood behind Frank, but Frank was in too much shock to even react.

“That’s… that’s… No. We loved Dad. You don’t understand. I’ve never touched Sharon.”

Jean dropped three photos on the desk. One showed Sharon and Frank out on the lake in a canoe. Another had them walking around the grounds and talking. The third showed them both sitting on a bench. Sharon had her head on Frank’s shoulder.

Frank stared in amazement. “These are completely out of context. Why would you have these?” He asked.

“Like I said, he didn’t trust you two.” she said in an almost apologetic voice. Officer Pendleton stood Frank up and put handcuffs on him. “No. This doesn’t make sense. He was there too. He should have been in these pictures!” Frank was practically yelling, but at no one in particular. “Come on,” Officer Pendleton said, “we’ll go over it all at the station. Thanks for your help, Jean.”

“No problem, Jack,” she said, still sounding sad. “I’m so sorry about this. About how it turned out.”

Officer Pendleton just nodded at her in agreement and escorted Frank out the door.



Thank you for everything you’ve done for my family. You’ve always been there to help with business concerns and to look into anything suspicious for me. You were always a trusted friend to both Helen and I.

And when you comforted me after Helen died, I just felt

Well, that’s when I started to fall in love with you. But you knew that already, didn’t you? That’s when you fell for me too. The time we had together was special and I’ll never forget how tender and loving you were to me.

But we both knew it couldn’t last. Frank had been smitten with you since he first laid eyes on you. Hell, sometimes I think he tried to find things for you to investigate just so he could see you again. It was because of Frank that we kept it all under wraps. And maybe that’s why we started fighting. I know we never said it, but under the surface of those fights were your frustration with us not being open about it.

Some of it was that it seemed too soon after Helen’s death. At least it was for me anyways. 36 years with someone and it’s only 4 months later that I end up in your bed. But you were so good to me. And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.

Which is why it hurt so much to end it. It was best for both of us and I thought you understood. You were sad (I was too), but you said we could still be friends. I believed you when you said that.

But what’s been happening since then is troubling. I’ve seen you taking pictures of me and Sharon. And I know you’ve been looking into her without my asking you to. When I came to you and told you that you had to stop, you said it couldnt. I know you think she’s not right for me, but she really is a wonderful person. Even Frank likes her now and I thought that would never happen!

So here we are again. I’ve asked you repeatedly to leave my personal life alone and stick to the work I need you for, but you can’t, can you? I suppose it’s got to be hard for you to, when there isn’t much else going on in your life.

So that’s why I’m terminating your work contract as well. You’ve done good work, but this can’t keep happening. I’ll talk to my legal team on monday and tell them and HR to write up some cancellation documents. They’ll want to collect all information you’ve found for us (that was part of the initial contract you signed when you started working for us) and then you’ll have what you truly need. Some space.

Space from me, Frank, Sharon, the business, all of it. Maybe with time and a new focus in life you can find a way to get past us and get over me. I hope you can build something stronger and healthier for yourself and just leave all of this behind you.

Goodbye Jeannie,



Tears streamed down Jean’s face and hit the pages. They were only slightly damp as she bundled it back together with his other love letters, the pictures they had taken together, and the pictures she had showing the full scenes of what she had shown Officer Pendleton and Frank. The pictures had Frank and Sharon together, that much was trues, but she had cropped the photos and taken Tom out.

She put her cigarette to the edge of the bundle and held it there. After a few seconds the letters started to burn and the pictures were beginning to warp. Jean tossed the pile into the trash can, then pulled out another set of pictures. They were distance photos of Sharon, Frank, and Tom at their outdoor shooting range. Tom was firing his revolver in a few of the photos and Sharon in some of the others.

Once the fire started to consume all of the evidence, she stood up and walked to the liquor cabinet. She grabbed a bottle of vodka and drank straight from it, taking large gulps. It burned her throat as it went down, but what she had done was tearing her apart worse than the alcohol ever could.

Jean scribbled a quick note to her landlord about needing to go see her sister in Chicago, stuffed it into an envelope with the rent, then she packed up her clothes in a suitcase and headed toward the door.

She took one last look around her apartment/detective agency. She couldn’t stop seeing Tom every time she glanced around the room. She wanted to stay and lose herself in the memories, but she knew it was time to go. Pendleton may have bought the story she crafted, but there was still a chance it could come back around to her. She gave a final sigh and then she turned away. It was time to finally get what she believed she needed. Some space.

March Writing Challenge – Jason

This is from Jason. Let’s read and help him review.

One of Three parts.

Subject: Shifting POV

Setting: Any
Time Period: Any
Length: 500 Words
Restrictions: None
Due: This Month


Greg sat alone on the last seat at the back of the bus. His head rested against the window, staring outside at nothing, completely oblivious to his surroundings. His stomach growled up at him. His short legs dangled over the edge of the seat, swaying back and forth like a pendulum with each start and stop of the bus, as he got closer and closer to his inevitability. Numbness and cold ran through his small body and fear gripped his mind. All that he could do was sit and wait for the end praying in silence for God to deliver him from this terrifying situation that he finds himself trapped in. His thoughts repeat “Please God crash the bus.” But to no avail.

Mr. Dykstra drove the old school bus onward, eagerly swinging the buses squeaky doors open so that excited children could be let off to begin their weekends. “Watch your step, and have a great weekend,” Mr. Dykstra said with delight, each time he opened the doors. While Greg sat in his personal hell, the remaining children on the bus were having a great time, buzzing with energy and excitement for their stops were near. From the drivers seat, out of habit Mr. Dykstra spoke, “Quiet down please,” as he snapped the doors shut once again. The bus pulled away slowly, pouring thick black smoke from its exhaust pipe into the air. Mr. Dykstra glanced up into the rear view mirror to see if his request had any results. Just then a horn blares outside in front of the bus. Mr. Dykstra instantly jammed on the breaks while catching sight of a red Cordova crossing through the intersection blaring its horn all of the way through. The car crossed through the intersection and then slowed down. A hand with manicured finger nails reached out of the window and gave Mr. Dykstra the middle finger. Mr. Dykstra smiled and waved taking responsibility for what just happened, “Sorry…my fault.” He said in earnest. He placed the bus in neutral and pulled the parking break up. “Is everyone alright? The handful of remaining students let out a collective “yes!”

Mr. Dykstra peered back into the rear view mirror to make sure that all of the children are safe and all of are seated. Satisfied, Mr. Dykstra released the parking break and put the bus back into gear. He cautiously pulled the bus through the intersection, trying to place where he’d seen that car before. Just then a thought has struck him like a bolt of lightning and the near accident with red Cordova was pushed out of his mind. He did a quick double take into the rear view mirror again, witnessing something very peculiar at the back of the bus. Greg was actually sitting quietly and not terrorizing the rest of the students on the bus for once. Mr. Dykstra turned his attention back to navigating the narrow streets once again wondering about the sudden switch in Greg’s demeanor, and could it possibly have anything to do with a conversation that he had overheard today in the teachers lounge.

The sudden jolt snaps Greg back into the real world for a moment. He rubbed his sweaty hands against his thighs, feeling the friction of the corduroy material making him feel even worse about what is coming. Greg would soon have to face the “Judge”, and the “Judge” is relentless and unforgiving. Not even God can save him from the “Judges” fury.

…to be continued.

March Writing Challenge – Shifting Points of View

March Writing Challenge – POV

Subject: Shifting POV

Setting: Any
Time Period: Any
Length: 500 Words
Restrictions: None
Due: This Month


We have all wrestled with the idea of shifting point of view within a story from first person, third person and maybe even to a narrative voice. Let’s practice this.

This month we will write as short story that will shift from at least three different pov types. Just make certain the flow makes sense and is consistent. After you write and read back over it, ask yourself if a reader could pick up your meaning and understand the story you are trying to convey.

Points of View:

  1. First person point of view. First person is when “I” am telling the story.
  2. Second person point of view. The story is told to “you.”
  3. Third person point of view, limited. The story is about “he” or “she.”
  4. Third person point of view, omniscient.


Okay, stop monkeying around and get to writing!


A Slightly Late Halloween Story

Here it is; after many months of not doing anything with it, here is my Halloween story.


Sugar-filled coffee and sugar-covered fried foods; every morning should start this way, he thought to himself.  Ryan McCarthy patted his expanding belly and tried not to think about all of the things that could kill him hidden in his breakfast.  His doctor talked to him about the threat of diabetes at his last physical, but he quickly put that thought out of his mind as well.  Today, he had coffee and donuts and life was good.


He ate his donuts at the kitchen counter, giving his teenage son and “tween-age” daughter plenty of space to eat at the table.  Neither of them were morning people and he had no desire to start a fight just by being happy in their presence.  His wife, Cindy, had no qualms with upsetting either of them, because she sat down with some toast and orange juice while humming a song.  It was something from the pop stations, but Ryan couldn’t remember what it was.  It sounded familiar enough that the kids would get it though, and they wouldn’t like that their mom knew something they knew.  Ryan took a sip of his coffee and decided to watch the show.


“Mom.  Stop,” Daniel said.  


“I can’t help myself,” she replied, “I have eighteen great years of marriage behind me with a wonderful husband, a brilliant twelve year old daughter with an incredible smile, and a seventeen year old son whose artistic talents are going to light up the faces of everyone…  just as soon as he finishes high school and picks a college, of course. ”  She said the last bit with a small smile on her lips.


Ryan braced for impact.  College had been a big issue around the house at the moment and he knew it would set Daniel off.


“Mom,” Daniel said, and then he paused.  He looked down at his food for a moment, looked back up at his mother and said with a sad look in his eye, “I’m going to miss you guys when I go.  You know that, right?”


“I know that, honey,” she said with a softer expression on her face, “and we’re going to miss you just as much.  But you’re going to take a different path soon.  It won’t always be easy, and sometimes you’ll feel alone, but we’ll always be there with you.”  Daniel smiled back with a slight tinge of sadness.


Holy shit, Ryan thought to himself, a happy breakfast and an open conversation; she’s a miracle worker.  He watched in amazement as Daniel slid a hand across the table and Cindy reached out and squeezed it tight.  


“Well I’m ready for you to get out,” Beth said in a snippy – sounding voice, “Your friends are annoying and you spend too much time in the bathroom spanking it.”


“Fuck you!” Daniel replied, his voice cracking in the process.  


“Beth!”  Cindy snapped back, “You need to cool it.  Your brother and I were talking and you don’t need to interrupt just for the attention.”


Beth stuck her tongue out at Daniel and then went back to her food.


And life returns to normal, Ryan thought.  He took the last few sips of his coffee and headed upstairs.


Ryan adjusted his tie in the mirror hanging off the back of the bedroom door.  He turned around and stared longingly at the bed.  It’s sheets still left in disarray and looking as though someone were still nestled snugly within them.  Only sixteen more hours, he thought, then I can go back to the comfiest place on earth.  He let out a small sigh and then Ryan reluctantly turned around and headed towards his car.


He walked outside with his head down, not paying a bit of attention to where he was going.  When he finally looked up, he noticed he was standing at the passenger door of Daniel’s car.  

“God damn it, Daniel,” Ryan muttered under his breath, “why did you park here?”   Ryan started to turn around and head back into the house when he felt the hard smack of concrete against his skull.  His head rang out in pain, his vision went white for a moment, and his heart started to race.  


He had just started to realize he was staring up at the morning sky when he felt a long, bony hand grab his leg.  Ryan wanted to scream, but was in too much shock when he found himself dragged under his son’s car.  The back of his shirt scraped across the pavement as his face and body simultaneously smashed into the underside of the car and passed straight through it.


The pain was intense.  His nose burst open in a spray of blood as it made contact with the drive train underneath the center of the car.  His portly stomach had long gashes torn into it from the various nuts and bolts it snagged on.  And yet, at the same time he Ryan felt himself slipped easily past each and every object.  


Ryan came to a stop just on the other side of the car.  Most of his body was free, but his head was pinned directly under the driver’s side tire.  The hand on his leg had finally let go and Ryan prepared himself to run.  Then he willed himself to get up and run.  Then he forced himself to get up and run.  Then he begged himself to get up and run.


But nothing happened.  He remained pinned to the ground, his body betraying him.  His mind begged to scream, but he couldn’t do that either.  He was completely paralyzed.  His entire body screamed in pain and his breath raced in terror, but all he could do was lie there.


His eyes were open and facing toward the back tire.  His mind slowed down from its base, instinctual reflexes and began to allow him to form coherent thoughts when the creature appeared in front of him.  The sight caused him to lose control once again.


The human, yet vaguely faceless creature was both there and not.  The apparition seemed to shift from a skeletal shape, then muscles, and then a black, velvety skin all forming directly on top of each other over and over again.  The cycles were happening at least once every second, if not faster.  At the end of each cycle, it would blink out of existence for just a moment and then the cycle would begin again.  


The right half of its human-like body seemed to be passing through the driveway while the other half was floating in the space between the ground and the car.  It put one rapidly changing hand up to its mouth and it let out a shushing sound.  It came closer, getting its face right up to his, and in the moments the dark flesh appeared on its body it seemed to be giving ryan a gentle and caring smile.  It let out a series of unintelligible sounds that seemed to coincide with the changes in its shape.  When it was a skeleton it simply made a hollow wind sound; when it became a muscled yet skinless creature it would make a mournful moaning; finally when it would reach its final form it almost seemed to be forming words.  The changes were happening so rapidly though that all three sounds blended together in a cacophony of noises.


The creature flew away for a moment, then re-appeared in front of Ryan.  It raised one hand, placed it on his shoulder, made a few more unintelligible noises, then stopped regenerating.


Ryan laid there in shock, pinned under the tire.  His body was wracked with pain and his mind felt as though it were coming apart at the seams.  He felt the cool concrete underneath him heating up under his own panic sweat.  It was a small thing, but the recognition that he was sweating and it seemed to affect the world around him brought his mind back into focus and allowed him to think again.


Ok.  Ok.  Ok. Your sweat and your heat are causing the concrete to heat up.  That’s good. (godithurtsgodithurtsgodithurts) No, that’s bad.  That means you’re actually here.  You’re not dreaming this.  (godithurtsmypantsarewetwhatwasthatthing) But that doesn’t make any sense.  How is any of this physically possible?  And why can’t I move?  Wait, am I having a stroke?  Do these things happen when you have a stroke?  (mybellyhurtsithurtssobaddeargodhelp) Is this an aneurysm or something?  How bad am I bleeding?  


Ryan made a few more desperate attempts to move, but found that nothing worked.  He couldn’t even blink.


(Thetireispushingtoohardithurtsgetitoff) Dear God, let Cindy find me before Daniel.  Please.  I don’t want him to see me like this.  That thing was a hallucination, right?  Fucking Christ, it had to have been.  But if that was a hallucination, then how did I get to this side of the car?


Ryan’s thoughts and subconscious ramblings went on for several more minutes, then he heard the front door.  He heard his son say goodbye to his Cindy as he closed the door behind him.  


God, please, Ryan pleaded, please don’t let him see me.  He’s a good kid and I don’t want him to see me like this.


Ryan couldn’t look up, but he knew that Daniel was getting close.  He heard Daniel’s footsteps come around the front of the car, then, nothing.  No scream, no gasp, nothing at all.


Then Ryan heard the sound of Daniel fishing around for his keys.  He heard them come out of his pocket, but there was still no reaction from Daniel.


What the fuck is happening? Ryan wondered, Am I not really here after all?  Thank you Lord!  This must just be a dream! There’s no way he can’t see me AAAHHHHH!!!


The pain of having his ribs shattered and his organs smashed against the other side of his body would have sent him into involuntary spasms and caused him to black out.  It would have, except it wasn’t happening at the same time it was.  He simultaneously felt the pain and felt nothing at all.  He realized Daniel hadn’t kicked him.  Daniel had stepped through him.


Another blast of searing pain came as Daniel took a second step directly through his father.


This isn’t happening.  It can’t be.  I feel fine and not fine.  How is that possible?


Daniel stepped into the car and shut the door.  Ryan felt a new sense of terror well up within him.


Fuck!  He didn’t see me!  What if he tries to take off?  Why the fuck can’t he see me?  God what is happening?


Ryan heard the car rumble to life.


God!  Help me!  Please!  Daniel doesn’t even know I’m here!  Just let him see me or notice me!  Something!  Anything!  Please let this whole thing just be a dream!


Ryan heard the car shift out of park and into reverse.  As it did, Ryan felt something he hadn’t felt since this whole ordeal began;  he felt whole.


Just let them know how much I loved them.




Given the nature of the crime, Daniel McCarthy was tried as an adult.  It was determined that there was no way he could have not seen his father as he entered the car and he was sentenced to life in prison.  Daniel always claimed to be innocent, but was never able to offer any solid explanation.


Cindy refused to speak up at the trial.  She honestly didn’t know how to react.  Losing both her husband and her son in one brief moment tore her apart.  She kept herself together during the trial, but over the years grief took over and her sanity started to slip.




Tragedies are defining moments in people’s lives.  They change the reflection of the past and make indelible changes to the arc of people’s lives.   When a family is torn apart by tragedy, it can send the survivors into disparate directions.  Though the tragedy of Ryan McCarthy’s death affected them all, it was only meant to change the course of one.


This is the story of Beth McCarthy.

“Fear Grows” November writing challenge -NaNoWriMo

Subject: Write about a novel or novelist or process of writing.

Setting: Any
Time Period: Any
Length: 500 Words
Restrictions: None
Due: This Month

This is an “attempt” to write a part in my Novel where a very important event happens. I am using the NaNoWriMo to help “encourage” me to write a scene that I cannot seem to do otherwise. Let’s see how this goes : )


Vargas stood outside the large stone compound pacing back and forth on the stone pathway. His hands were clasped together behind him resting against his red robes. His eyes flashed over to the front doors every other second. He stood still, adjusted the black sash around his waist and looked up into the bright sky. He took a deep breath trying to calm his nerves. Shutting his eyes, he felt the sun on his face and listened to the wind blowing through the surrounding trees. He had to get his nerves under control quickly.

The sound of the front doors opening startled him breaking his concentration. He opened his eyes, unclasped his hands and stepped toward the door. A tall, thin figure dressed in black robes and a cowl draping over his face walked out and down the steps. He held a large package under his arm wrapped in dark leather.

“Litagas, sire. I am ready,” Vargas spoke, standing at attention.

The thin man looked at Vargas from under his cowl. His cold dark eyes seemed to pierce Vargas’s mind causing his to quickly look away. Without speaking, Litagas walked around to the side of the compound and into the trees.

Vargas followed until they were in a small clearing fully enclosed by trees. Litagas looked around and apparently satisfied, he carefully unwrapped the leather from a large red tome. Vargas knew the book well. It was the same one he took from the group Rathen led into Ghrakus Castle. He threw Rathen’s group into a deadly fight so he could find a chance to take the tome and get out. Recovering the book at Litagas’s command had placed him into a favored position. Vargas’s only competition for Litagas’s favor was a woman named Eva Davale whose purpose in the compound was still unknown to him.

Vargas watched as Litagas held the tome in one hand and pulled his cowl with his other. His face was thin and pale, his hair, short and dark.  He opened the book looking over both pages. He looked up and waved Vargas over to him. This is it. 

Vargas knew what was expected of him. He prepared himself and his spell. Litagas sat the tome on the ground and held his arms high. He chanted words Vargas had never heard before. Soon, a shimmering wall appeared in front of Litagas as he kept his hands high.

Vargas started his spell known as a death spell. It would kill a man or beast if allowed to contact them. Litagas was testing a shield spell and needed to test it. Vargas was there to test it, but he knew well that if he failed in his task, it could mean the death of either Litagas or himself at Litagas’s own hand.

At the nod of Litagas, Vargas cast his spell toward his Master. He watched as his spell hit the shield and passed through it with little resistance. To his horror, the spell hit Litagas in the chest sending him collapsing to the ground. He rushed toward Litagas concerned he was hurt. To his surprise his master jumped up, dusting himself off.

“Sire, are you alright?”

Litagas turned toward him with anger in his eyes. Vargas stepped back in fear.

“No! I am not alright. This spell continues to elude me.”

Vargas felt relieved he was not injured but wondered if the shield protected Litagas from the power of the spell of if his master was that powerful it did not effect him…