Everything is blurry, come on, focus. Blink. Blink again. Why can’t I see clearly? Wait. This room and contents are unfamiliar. Where am I?


Why can’t I recall last night or any night? It’s like the memories are there, but so far away that I can’t access them. Okay, time to get out of bed and figure this out. I can do this. Just roll to the side and grab the edge. Why do I have to make such a conscious effort to do things that are simple?


My heart beat is quickening, wow…I can feel it pounding in my chest…something is wrong. Very wrong. Okay, calm that panic welling from somewhere deep within, stand up! Whoa…don’t let go, need to hold something so I don’t fall down. I’m swaying back-n-forth if I let go. What is going on?


Door. Two steps…lean against the wall, I got this.

Door is ajar, thank God! Need to walk out..but walking is just impossible. My legs aren’t working because I’m stumbling. It’s like they belong to someone else.


JUST MOVE!  Okay, I’m inching along.  Oh, the world is tilting around me and zooming out and in.  It’s making me dizzy. Close your eyes!  Ouch! Okay, I’ve fallen on my knees on hard ground.  Stop thinking about how much it hurts.  oh, it really does – did I break something?


Remember details.  Is that cobblestone? Everything is distorted, like Alice in Wonderland. I’m in an outdoor hallway. No, is this an Alley way? The end of the tunnel looks so far away, is it really that far? Can I get there before danger gets me?


Start Crawling.


Sue Vincent’s #writephoto challenge / week 12-7 Portal / 321 word count

Old Man Jones

“Old Man Jones was not crazy.”

Driving miles through the desert, I pulled off to rest at a diner near the highway. Just as I took a seat at a booth, something hanging on the wall caught my eye.  Is that a boot spur?

As the waitress poured my coffee, her gaze followed mine.

She chuckled, “Oh, there’s a good story for that. One day, Old Man Jones came running in the front door, just like Chicken Little, exclaiming the sky was fallin.’ And we already thought he was crazy, so we paid him no mind, and got him his breakfast. Then he held up that boot spur, right there, and told us that was his evidence. He claimed It fell from above and the spur nearly spiked him in the head. At that point, we figured he had lost his last marble. His daughter, Josephine, was called to come get her daddy. And we went on with our day.

Now about a day later, a big, fancy truck pulled up and the driver got out and announced he was looking for a boot spur that apparently fell from his little airplane. He was performing some tricky maneuver, and it was one of those planes where the cockpit area is open, so when he did one of those barrel rolls, out one flew. I guess he had forgotten he had them on, until he was in the sky – he took ’em off, and set them on the side of his seat!  He estimated it fell out in a certain mile radius, and he was checking the surrounding areas. See, he was the professional bull rider, Fierce MaCoy, and those were his lucky boot spurs. Apparently, he had a big event coming up and he was a bit superstitious, wearing them all the time. He was very motivated to find the missing one. Even offered a reward.

Of course, I told him what were the chances, that we did, in fact, know where that spur was.  And that he needed to be more careful, because he could have killed someone.

We apologized to Old Man Jones, who eagerly handed the spur to Firece MaCoy.  In return, all he wanted were tickets to the event, which Mr. MaCoy happily provided, which also happened to be his last event. Cuz he was retirin.’ Afterward, Mr. MaCoy gave that boot spur back to Old Man Jones as a souvenir, which he carried around with him until his dying day, as proof that he was NOT crazy.  After his funeral, Josephine donated the boot spur to our diner in memory of her daddy.”

Sue Vincent’s #writephoto challenge / week 10-19 boot spur / 433 word count

The African Queen

“The African Queen comes out at sunrise to gaze at the prize.”

This phrase has been said in his head, and aloud multiple times. Prior clues had led them to the South American jungle, the vast sands of the Asian desert, and now the mountains of Africa. Fortune smiled on them, as they happened upon a remote tribe, and repeated the phrase while pointing to a woman and her eyes. They immediately knew what we meant, as we weren’t the first travelers in search of the treasure. Our guide dropped us off in the general vicinity and pointed toward the East, and then held out his hand for payment. That was as far as he would go, as their tribe were a superstitious people.

“That’s great. What do we do now? I hate riddles. And why is it so damn hot at 5AM…”

While his companion continued listing his complaints, he looked up at the rock formation in front of them. The sun was rising and casting a shadow, he reached back and clamped his hand on his buddy’s shoulder, as a shape took form.

“I’d like to introduce you to the African Queen, my friend,”

And they began their climb.

#writephoto / 8-10 Challenge / host Sue Vincent / 198 words

No Service

“I told you, those don’t work here,”  shaking my head at another visitor too attached to instant media.

The teenager continued to walk, curse, and try again because it just couldn’t be true. Whenever someone visits this town, they are always amazed how an entire city does not have cell service. It’s simple. No one wanted any cell towers built in or around our city. We pride ourselves on disconnecting from screens, and actually interacting with people face-to-face.

Eventually, the frustrated guest gave up, and I motioned to the telephone on the wall. Squinting his eyes, he asked, “What’s that?”

100 word count / Friday Fictioneer 7-28 / host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Arrive before dark

Diana’s sunset windmill image for #writephoto – photo source unknown

“It’s very important you get there before dark, and then you’ll be all right.”

These were the last words the farmer said to them after providing directions. The couple was instructed to pass the old post mill, and then 1/2 mile down the road would be the cottage rental. It was nearing sunset, and they wondered why they needed to arrive before nightfall. However, they sensed an edge in the man’s voice, and thought it wise to heed his advice. Perhaps in the dark, the small home might be very difficult to locate the first time there.

The woman pointed to the windmill on the horizon. It was going to be close, as the sun was descending lower in the sky. A few minutes later, they were pulling onto the gravel driveway, where they saw a quaint building. As they exited their car, lots of hootin’ and hollerin’ could be heard off in the distance, at the locals’ tavern. It seemed festive enough, maybe they would check it out later.

They grabbed the key from under the mat, and entered the dark living room. They were startled by the screen door squeaking and banging closed behind them. Nervously, they searched for the light switch. Their unease lifted, as the room was illuminated by a couple of antique lamps. What a cozy place! Depositing their luggage in the bedroom, they began exploring their accommodations.

As the last gleams of sunshine disappeared, an eerie aura took over the place. Their anxiety rose, as those jovial echoes heard earlier, now sounded like chilling screams of terror. The man quickly slammed and locked the front door, while the woman switched off the lights, and drew the curtains. They peeked through a small section of lace, and off in the distance, the post mill drew their attention. In the moonlight glow, mysterious shadows could be seen frolicking, their movements liquid and then erratically altering.

The farmer’s words now rang in their head as a warning, a plea to be safely indoors when mayhem came calling.

Sue Vincent’s #writephoto challenge / week 7-27 windmill / 335 word count

Manic Monday #3 Challenge – Kicks

For those that enjoy challenges, and if you like music… you might have some fun with this.  It’s called Manic Monday.  Welcome to the 3rd installment!

*The video was one of the best I could find that included go-go dancers to really get a feel for the time.

Each Monday, I’ll present a new song title, and you come up with a post using it.  Due to time differences, I’ll often release on Sunday.  Ping back to this post, so others can read! (if not wordpress user, provide link to your post in comments)  It can be fiction/non-fiction, poetry, subject can be dark, serious or humorous – however many characters you want- just have fun with it!  It doesn’t have to pertain to the song, whatsoever. (click here for past song titles)

The rules are…there are no Rules!  (except using the title of the song part)

We started with the 80’s, then 70’s, and so let’s do the 60’s!  Paul Revere and the Raiders released “Kicks,” in 1966 as a single.  Originally written for the Animals, it’s one of the earliest anti-drug songs during a time when many bands were singing about drug induced highs.  It made Rolling Stone Magazine’s top 500 (came in at 400) of greatest songs of all time.   Wikepedia

Use that song title anywhere in your blog post, ping back this post! (visit others that posted, if you want) If you need more inspiration, you can Click here for lyrics

P.S.  Give me a few minutes to approve your PING to avoid spam.  Only comment with a link to your post (if not wordpress user) – minimizing comments ensures we can easily see all the posts.