http://debbiesdays.wordpress.com/2012/05/17/the-trouble-in-no-answers/

Max grinned as he twirled the sweaty beer bottle and mentally marveled. He took the zombie walk fad exploding in cities and twisted it’s ear. Zombie Gauntlet Challenge had all the trappings; “zombies”, “normals”, mindless shuffling and terrified screaming.

The first challenge had a handful of players with fist bumps and cold brews at the end. Now, a revolution with hundreds. Max set routes to avoid pissing off the “Jones’” or the shop owners. Zombies do what zombies do and normals try to avoid them.

Unexpectedly, real death appeared.

He expected it to change things.

It did.

More people started playing.

****Vivid Black begins here: http://debbiesdays.wordpress.com/2012/05/12/the-agony-of-defeat/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back with Lance at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog to play with LeeRoy’s 100 Word Challenge. This week’s song “Revolution” by the Beatles inspired this post.

http://debbiesdays.wordpress.com/2012/05/12/the-agony-of-defeat/

Henry Waters paced as he thumped his fist on his forehead. What happened? Everything was jumbled in his head. Sarah Jane wasn’t suppose to be there. Her dad warned his daughter to stay away from the Zombie Gauntlet and she promised. Waters spied Max behind the yellow tape, hands in pockets chewing on his lip, fighting shock.

Through clenched teeth he hissed, “Max, why was Sarah Jane here? Ray was under the impression she would stay away until these murders are resolved.”

Max’s face etched with fear and sadness answered, “Man, you know how that girl is, er, was. Thinks she’s knows, knew, everything she needed to know.”

Henry scrubbed his face trying to find questions to ask to get him out of the trouble he’d found. The Chief was on the way. He knew the trouble Sarah Jane found was now his trouble. His investigation had no leads; just bodies and every fifth Friday another innocent, surrounded in crimson.

A bright winter morning eight months ago, a body was found. Henry took the call with his partner Jerrod McEwin and CSU. Demarion Jones was viciously stabbed to death the night before. Deep bites covered his body. The investigation began and Henry was confident he would hang on to his record as best closer on the squad. Confidence waned into ambiguity as a pattern emerged with the third body. All the murders happened on a fifth Friday during one of those Zombie Challenges.

“Max! Sit on the curb and wait for me. We’ll finish this at the station.” He growled the order and pointed a finger to emphasize his words.

Blue and red wigwagged, capturing eyes while the siren’s shriek pierced hearing. Henry swiveled around as the white Tahoe rocked to a halt and Chief of Detectives, Ray Jacoby bound out of the truck.

He scanned the faces behind the tape, found Waters and stalked through. His happiness eaten away by grief and anger he grabbed Henry and snarled,

“Where’s my daughter!?”

****Continue reading Vivid Black with Revolution:

http://debbiesdays.wordpress.com/2012/05/17/revolution/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a number of comments expressed the thought the Zombie Gauntlet murder of Sarah Jane in my fiction piece “The Agony of Defeat” could be turned into a serialized piece, I decided to heed the advice. Thus, a yet to be named story continues.

I’m continuing the story using two prompts as inspiration.

First, Trifecta: Week Twenty-Seven

Use the word trouble with the following rules:

• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
• The word itself needs to be included in your response.
• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
• . trou·ble noun \ˈtrə-bəl\
  . the quality or state of being troubled especially mentally
  . public unrest or disturbance <there’s trouble brewing downtown>
  . an instance of trouble <used to disguise her frustrations and despair by making light of her troubles

Second, Write on Edge’s Red Writing Hood:

In 400 words or less, write a story or memoir which relates to choices and/or consequences. Because of the word limits, you may choose to focus just on the choice, or just on the consequence. Remember to capture a moment using dialogue, action, and reaction.

A skillet. A sip. An egg. A sip. Breakfast served to the hungry child.

Trekking to dress and prepare. A swipe conceals exhaustion, a brush brightens the facade.

Happy squeals and patter of tiny feet, greetings from the grands showing off dresses, snacks toys.

More eggs. Sippies filled with milk.

More coffee. A drive. A farewell. Back home for play.

A day begins. A humdrum repeats, yet full of delight.

The routine. The normal. The expected.

Motivating, occasionally frustrating.

It’s the same story on a different day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Linking up with Lance over at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog has his “buddy” LeeRoy handing out prompts with the 100 Word Song. This weeks inspiration came from Tracy Chapman’s “Telling Stories”. My creative juices ran slow this week, but it finally flowed and here it is. A day in the life of ME!

Two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane, shuffling and moaning. Sarah Jane’s surprise somersaulted her heartbeat, her hands darting to her mouth, shock and fear trickling through her. Stringy deformed shadows marched ahead of her as she gained her senses, rushing to retrieve lost ground.

Silently she thought,

“Oh no, not this time. Never! You’ll have to work harder than that.”

Her strategy to wind through City Park on Solitude Lane was deliberate, and on the route, but  the hoard would unlikely wander here early in the game. At least she thought so. When she chose it, Sarah Jane was sure she would have time to formulate another successful defeat and escape to the “Safe Zone”. They were getting smart, but not smart enough. These guys were determined to break her streak and assimilate her into the hoard with their gnashing and tearing.

Jogging carefully down the path, she scanned ahead for more and occasionally peeking over her shoulder to monitor the two behind. The rules stated: “No Zombie shall run, jog or walk at a fast pace. Shuffling or dragging is the only acceptable mode of progress.”

The Normals goal is making it to the “Safe Zone” without being “bitten”, “scratched” or “damaged” in any way by a Zombie. No weapons could be used in their efforts. The Zombies have the advantage of surprise. They get to begin anywhere on the gauntlet route so the Normals need keen, sharp senses to avoid them.

The Zombie Gauntlet Challenge took place every fifth Friday and Sarah Jane was the only person to make it through to the Safe Zone every time. Twenty five Normals were challenged (many failing) to make it through the Zombie Gauntlet zone.

Heart pumping, and breathing steady, she looked back again to see the two closer. Squeezing her eyes narrow as she hissed,

“Cheaters!”

Determined, her pace surged to widen the space. Her focused attention drawn away by the annoyance and her resolve to win, she didn’t see the tattered arm reach out of the shadows to grab her foot.

Face wide in an “O” of alarm, her arms flailing forward struggling to protect. Crashing, she rolled to withstand any damage from the “attack”. The faces of the men who surprised her faded in and out of the shadows, intent on a despicable deed. The shining edge glittered in the moonlight, cleaving the darkness, and endlessly plunging in. She raised her hands to defend the slashing ruin of the relentless attack.

Found lying wet, red, open, and mutilated a “Zombie’s” human scream signaled true terror. Rules broken as others hurried to reveal the cause, discovering a lifeless Sarah Jane, Zombie Gauntlet champion. Reality overtook fantasy as she was defeated only by true death.

Continue reading Vivid Black with The Trouble in No Answers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m linking this up at Write on Edge. Cam gave us this weeks prompt for Red Writing Hood and gave a challenged to “advance the plot”. Here’s how it went:

For this week, I’m offering you this opening line:

“Two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane.”

If you are approaching this prompt from a memoir standpoint, feel free to use a narrow lane, a moonlit night, or appearance of someone seemingly from nowhere as a jumping off point.

You have 500 words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m linking up with Trifecta for Trifextra: Week Sixteen. The challenge goes like this:

This weekend’s Trifextra is the first of its kind.  This weekend we only need 32 words from you, because we’re giving you the 33rd.  Your challenge is to write anything you want, in whichever form you please, so long as your response is exactly 33 words and includes the word “mother.”

Emma’s bootsteps echoed hollow, sharp off marble mausoleum walls. Reverb steps determine a path away from that past. Sun beams rushed her, attempted to banish saturated cold stone and death.

As she walked, doll size figures grew to life size. Aunt Polly, Cora, Father Peter. A small table bore the urn; her “father” entrapped.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“…that he may not receive in punishment the requital of his deeds …” Eyes roll, she snickered.

“Amen”

Escape steps shattered quiet; a thought punished,

“I will climb this high wall in remembrance of him to regain or re-earn my life”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m in! Jumping in the sandbox and playing 100 Word Song with LeRoy on Lance’s blog My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. My entry has Emma dealing in her way with the death of her father. Conveying her contempt and mixed emotions about the passing of the man who raised her stretches my writing “muscles” with the 100 word limit and using music as inspiration; this week it’s a dark goth piece “Lillies And Remains by Bauhaus.“

That’s me.
I haven’t gone anywhere.
I’m still here.
Just busy with my home based business (I build and sell rosaries and other bead items)
Stay tuned.
I will return.
The number you have reached IS in service.

It’s just busy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Wrote this in response to Trifecta’s 33 word challenge that went like this:

For this weekend’s Trifecta 33 word challenge:

“Write a horror story in 33 words, without the words blood, scream, died, death, knife, gun, or kill. Good luck.”

My mothers heart, captivated by unique and priceless love.

Memories held of  soft, sweet baby hair.

The first born of my wild pack.

Fearlessly dreaming ; his imagination weaves, as fantasy and reality blur.

The sensitive soul is thinly veiled by a tongue in cheek toughness.

A bad ass? He smiles with twinkling eyes, shattering the facade.

A heart full of nobility and passion; unselfish and generous to cohorts and clan.

The devotion to wife and child leave me breathless with pride.

Tender yet constant; blunt yet thoughtful.

He is comfortable and familiar,

This boy.

This man.

My son, Brandon.

~~~~~~~~

Inspired by Memories Captured from Galit Breen at These Little Waves and Allison of Mama Wants This  to create a photo tribute to my eldest, my son Brandon.

Your praise, criticism, corrections and/or suggestions are welcomed and appreciated. I can’t grow if I’m blind to the truth.

I’m able to step back and look at my house and say it’s not a disgustingly dirty, filthy, smelly hazardous waste pit like a house from Hoarders. It’s just not tidy and neat and Oh my GOD, that’s what I want.  I want to love walking into my house with a smile, sink into my chair with a glass of wine, look around me and be peaceful. The assurance of knowing someone can drop in unexpectedly and  that I won’t be embarrassed because the house is out of sorts would be bliss. Inviting someone over on the spur of the moment for coffee and not feel like I have to race around the house like a reverse tornado picking things up and cramming them behind the nearest door, would be, well, AWESOME.

I would research and hear people talk about various blogs, articles and websites with tips and advice. For me, none of the ideas “fit” me and I think that’s why I continued to struggle and fail to keep a clean, comfortable house. I wanted to be a successful “Fly Baby”. I  followed FlyLady for years. I’d read posts from women were making the program work, and I hated them. I followed Home Ec 101 for a while and love the ideas and tips over there because there seems to be a lot less guilt. There’s a lot of asking for and getting advice. I followed I Dream of Clean on Facebook and on the web/blog page, but it was so similar to FlyLady it fizzled pretty fast.

Looking at how I typically clean I asked myself “Why haven’t I succeeded?” and I decided I was simply overwhelming myself. I would spend an entire day cleaning the house top to bottom and when I was done I’d be so burned out and sick of cleaning, things would minute by minute, day by day, slip right back to where they were. I’m good at seeing (something’s out of place, aka a mess in the making), internally complaining (putting on a scowly face and muttering under my breath) and putting off (because dammit it’s just no use isn’t it?) Knowing this I decided to take a much smaller bite, not try to cram the whole damn meal into my face all at once.

I asked myself, “What room give me the most anxiety and I would be happiest having clean all the time?” My immediate answer, “The kitchen.” This gave me a place to begin. I “basic” cleaned the kitchen, meaning I cleared and wiped the counters, emptied and filled then ran the dishwasher. I hand washed the remaining dishes in the sink and put them away, then swept the floor. Thirty minutes and done.  At this point I made a commitment to myself; the kitchen was going to STAY this clean. And it has.

Three weeks have passed and the kitchen has stayed clean and has gotten cleaner and less cluttered. The sink remains relatively empty (occasional Mad Scientist cooking creating have caused extra dishes) . Keeping the space clean lets me eye it critically and decide what I can do to eliminate or reduce clutter. The process of keeping this one room clean all the time has made me realize I’m only devoting a maximum of 10 minutes at a time to keep it clean. If I decided to do extra (which I have been) I’m not letting myself get so entrenched that I spend an hour or two obsessing over the job. For example, I’m cleaning the outside of the cabinets. I’m super scrubbing just “two doors” at a time which takes about five extra minutes. I ‘m not getting it done every day, but it’s getting done.

I’m a work in progress and so is my self-created home cleaning routine. I’m determined to resolve my personal “homework” puzzle one bite at a time.

~~~~~

Stay tuned. I have more to tell as I work my way through cleaning my house. Watch for my next post when I’ll tell you about the most disgusting room(s) in the house.