MidWeek Flash: Reiterated Love

Since I was late on last week’s MidWeek Flash, it’s already time for another one. But this simply gorgeous photo clicked with a thought and voila. 

Reiterated Love

I stood on the old pier watching the beginning of the end. Conflicting memories danced in my head as the sky turned molten around us. Lilia’s fearful whimper tugged at me and I tucked her in close. Her body trembled against my side. Whether the result of my presence or the sky, I couldn’t be sure.

“We have to go,” I urged.

“I’m tired,” she said, “tired of … all of you.”

“The ship is waiting.”

“Maybe I don’t want to go.” Though soft and halting, she cast the words at me like a challenge.

I gazed down on the face I’d known all my life, the face of my purpose. This woman was very reason I was alive. Her guarded hazel eyes met mine, testing my resolve. Haunted by a hundred deaths, she silently dared me to argue. Her lips were a hard line, yet I couldn’t resist reliving the memory of them playing over my skin, kissing me in ways that heated my blood. Continue reading “MidWeek Flash: Reiterated Love”

MidWeek Flash: Lighting the Way

It’s been more than a week since I wrote some flash, and feels even longer. But I’m back. As usual, I made an effort to kick back against the obvious and take this piece in a lighter direction. I leave it to you whether I’ve succeeded and still managed to write something intriguing.  

Thank you again to Miranda for her weekly prompts. And if any of you out there think you might have a story inside you waiting to come out. Come write with us! Really we don’t bite (much). 

Lighting the Way

“I see dead people.”

My husky imitation echoes slightly in the dim hallway as a wry smirk plays across my lips. Unfortunately, anyone who could hear me now probably won’t get the reference, or appreciate the humor. Still, the irony makes me chuckle.

Even though the sun hangs in a cloudless sky outside, the hallway feels dark, shadowed, oppressed. I take slow, deliberate steps, stowing the humor and breathing deeply. Settling into my purpose, I reach out with my inner sense, inviting contact. Many are still here. Too many. They know I’ve come but they don’t trust me. Yet. Continue reading “MidWeek Flash: Lighting the Way”

MidWeek Flash: Spirited Away

Mid-Week Flash is up.  Thank you Miranda Kate for an interesting, if unsettling, photograph. Here is my take, with the help of a writing challenge “offered” by a friend. Have I mentioned my susceptibility to dares? 



Sister Elspeth burst from the Council chamber, the doors banging open. Her dark robes fluttered behind like storm-tossed sails.

“What news?” I trailed in her wake.

“Mewling brats!” she seethed, whirling around to spit at the closing door. “There is no wisdom left in all Urtland!”

I dodged out of the way, trying to follow her. But she turned on heel and strode forward again, leaving me scrambling after her.

“The plan,” I repeated. “What about the plan?” But she didn’t hear me.

“The invaders have struck a mortal blow,” she mused, “killing those men whose years brought wisdom.  Now boys play king of the hill and all the while our enemy eats us from inside.” Her muttering burned with anger as she pushed open the main doors and swept down the stairs taking the path to the Coven House.  

“Sister,” I begged. “Did you tell them?”

She turned on me then, her eyes sparking with hate. Magic crackled around her. A warning. “They wouldn’t let me speak.”

“What?” I stared in shock. How could the Council disrespect her so? The Coven had advised Urtland’s kingship for a century.

“A woman has no place in war.” She mimicked a deep voice.  “As if swords alone determined which battles are won. I’ll show you war!” she shouted at the castle, then turned and strode into the trees.

I could do little but hurry after her.

“A woman knows strength is not the only weapon worth wielding” she said to me. “We will behead this snake before its forked tongue corrupts Urtland any further.”

The plan, it seemed, would proceed without kingly permission.

Moonrise found us in the forest. A dozen Coven sisters stood in a circle, Sisters Elspeth, Yadha, Deara, and myself waiting skyclad in the center, athames at ready, faces grim. Chosen warriors for Urtland. Assassins, if you will. One for each invader chieftain.

The spell was already in the casting. Our witch-sisters chanted, hands clasped, and magic tingled along my skin, hot and eager. All that was left was to call our allies. We four lifted our arms and carved the symbols for our chosen trees in our flesh. I chose my namesake – hazel – and carved four bloody lines to the left of a vertical one in my arm. Elspeth’s arm bore three marks beside the straight. A warrior tree – the holly.

I felt a pull in my belly. My call was answered. The Coven opened the circle and we four walked in a daze into the forest. A beautiful hazel tree, robust and green, beckoned to me. Lifting my arms, I pressed against her smooth trunk until my arms became her branches, her leafy crown my own head.  Behind me, the witch-sisters sang and I pulled my feet from the earth to dance, slow at first and then faster. They followed me as I cavorted like a satyr in the moonlight, heading toward the enemy encampment.

The Coven wove spells of fog and darkness to hide us as we infiltrated the foreign camp. My fingers rustled and my body ached as branches took the shape of lovely limbs. The glamour complete, I twirled into the tent of a barbarian general. He woke with a start. I smiled at him, beckoning him with my naked body, youthful and firm. The witches spun a spell of love over him.

When he rose to claim me, I let him kiss me. My toughened bark immune to his rough hands.

“Not here,” I whispered. “Come, my love. Away to my bower.”

He grabbed for me, but I spun away, ever just out of reach. I allowed him to kiss me now and then to keep his passion fresh, leading him out of his camp and into the woods.

In a place far from the beaten path, I stopped and surrendered, opening my arms to the brute. He grabbed me then, thrusting himself upon me with ravaging intent. I did not resist, but clasped him closer, opening myself to his plundering. And as we coupled, bodies twined together, the magic changed me once more. My leaves returned. Feet became roots, arms became branches, and my violent lover was trapped within the thickened bark of my trunk…

                                                                 …never to be heard from again.

You can find links to the other entries HERE.




MidWeek Flash – Rumors of Yumon

It’s that time again!  MidWeek Flash and a new photo. This time a historical photo of bomb-blasted Italy.  Again, I was avoiding the dark post war images that immediately sprang to mind. The what if time stopped postulations…

And then I set myself a challenge. I picked something silly and told myself (via a friend) to write about it. Here’s what ended up happening. You’ll have to let me know if it produced a worthwhile piece or not. Again the challenge is here on Miranda’s blog.  And you (yes, you reading this right now), you should go write something yourself!

Rumors of Yumon

We walk the haunted forest in the late afternoon, my daughter and I. The rain’s aftermath is sure to leave us mud-speckled, a disappointment to her mother, but I’m not bothered by such things. I firmly believe an adventure without dirt is just a stroll.

Oh, how I used to race rings around my own father here, ages and ages ago. The tower hasn’t changed in all that time. I love to see the delight in her brown eyes, the skip in her step. She finds this place as magical as I did… I do.

 Skeptics abound in this day and age, but I believe the tales. I believe in things unseen.

As we climb, the tower greets us first. Its gray façade of even stones lifting up out of the summer-green leaves, pointing to the sky. She has to crane her head back to keep the top of it in sight as we emerge from the dense trees to the small meadow where the building sits. At least, what’s left of it. Continue reading “MidWeek Flash – Rumors of Yumon”

MidWeek Flash – Summoning the Muse

As I read the other stories this week, I realized that I too was thinking of aggression and revenge. I would have written about hunters and death. But I looked again at the picture and thought of how beautiful this creature was. Why couldn’t this be about love? 

Again the rules and the challenge are here on Miranda Kate’s blog.  And again, please join in.  It’s better with friends. 

Summoning the Muse

She soared the night sky as clouds tiptoed across the moon’s face. Her sharp eyes pierced shadow and branch but nothing moved. Unsettled, she dropped lower, gliding a mere featherbreadth above the treetops to search again; it was nearing moonset.

Perhaps he wouldn’t come.

Perhaps he’d broken free.

The thought pinched inside her. When he’d first summoned her to his little isle of green in that plastic world, she’d been irritated. That he had the power to do so was unnerving. That he dared to … angered her. But she no longer hated him.

She felt a tug of energy. He had come after all. Continue reading “MidWeek Flash – Summoning the Muse”

Mid-Week Flash – Feathered Friend

Okay, this one was a little harder. Especially since one of the other writers had stumbled upon the same initial thought I had.  I think he did it better than I would have and bravo to him.  Again the rules and the challenge are here on Miranda Kate’s blog.

Come. Join us! Share your words, your wit, your sadness, your joy. We love the company. 


Feathered Friend

by Stacy Bennett

The island was my hail Mary.  

Ian was slipping away; I could feel it. The doldrums of everyday life stole the wind from our sails until we drifted in a mundane sea. What I needed… no, what we needed was a way to stop time. A chance to find our way back to the fire we had started with.  And what better recipe than the moon, the sea and solitude?

It would work. It had to.    Continue reading “Mid-Week Flash – Feathered Friend”

The Waiting House – Midweek Flash

I had such fun last week doing MidWeek Flash, I decided to do another one.   This time, a little less weird.  Hope you like it.

Again, the rules are listed on the site. If you like to write, you should give it a shot.  This week’s picture prompt is below.  And thanks to Miranda Kate for this opportunity to stretch my writing muscles. I’ve missed the flash circuit.

The Waiting House

by Stacy Bennett

The clack of her heels echoed off the tattered walls as she tried not to notice the peeling wallpaper.  Cobwebs danced in the fouled breeze that floated through broken windows. She had grown used to the smell these past months, but her teeth clenched against the cloying chemical taste that lodged like bile in her throat.

The house had survived the skirmishes, its walls intact though a dusty abandonment pervaded its once immaculate rooms – a betrayal that still brought a pang of guilt. They had been months into the war before her brothers could persuade her to leave. When the skies turned black, their entreaties intensified accompanied by threats of bodily removal should she continue to argue. They hadn’t understood why she clung to the house, as stubborn as the English ivy climbing the red brick wall.

But this had been her home. Their home. Continue reading “The Waiting House – Midweek Flash”