Posted in Writing

Don’t Judge A Book By Its Movie – Prompt Challenge

This is not something I’ve seen yet, and I am so interested in seeing what I can come up with for this one.

The original post was done by Don’t Judge A Book By Its Movie 2016 Blog and I got nominated by Word Junkie 427.  Please check out both these blogs, they are so unique and fun to read and explore…

Basically, how this works is, the blogger chooses a prompt for the nominees (there needs to be three) and they need to write a story based on, and including, that prompt.  The original prompt was:

“A couple of teenagers are crouched down, hidden in the shadows of a grimy viaduct. Searchlights are sweeping the streets, searching for them. They are out beyond curfew. Write up happens next.”

So, my prompt is:  

“I sunk your battleship.”, I whispered into the night.

So, let’s start…


Mom has locked herself in her room again.  I shuffle to the table, sit down and watch as another strike falls just short of my ship.  “Nope, sorry.  You’re still missing.”, I smile.  I’ve never had such a winning streak, before tonight.  I look intently at my board, certain I know where to place this peg.  I look up triumphantly.

“I sunk your battleship.”, I whispered into the night.

After that, my mom found me and started yelling that this is no time to be playing with my imaginary friend.  But he wasn’t imaginary and he was so mad when she said that.  He yelled!  I covered my ears with my hands, trying to block out the awful sound.  She was flung clean across the room, hitting the far wall with a loud thud.  I closed my eyes.  I didn’t want to see what happened next.

She was screaming, my mom…

That is the last thing I remember of that night.

Afterward, I was woken up by a policeman.   There was blood on the far wall and a small hand print, that was all I saw before he covered my eyes and led me outside. They never could explain what had happened that night.  The hand print was not mine.  All they knew was that there was no way that I could have done all that…

Image result for scary hand print

I want to find out what could have happened that night.  I studied criminology and paranormal activities, but nothing has been able to successfully explain that night.  I recently requested the old case file again and finally received the confirmation.

I walk up the stairs and into the dimly lit police office.  To the clerk at the front desk, I say:  “I’m here to see Detective Reece.”
“And your name is?”
“I’m Mary, Mary Whitemore.”
“Just a moment, please.”

“Miss Mary, you’ve grown up to become a beautiful young lady.  Give me a hug.”, Detective Reece has gotten gray and reminds me of a loving grandfather.  “Hallo, Detective.  How is it that, now, on the 15th anniversary of my mother’s death, that I get to see her file?  I have been asking for years now…” “I dunno kiddo, I was just as surprised as you were, when the confirmation came through.  Seems someone wants you to know, I guess.”

We head down the hall, catching up on general things.  We turn right into an interrogation room.  “Sorry bout this, this is the only open space we have.  You mind?”, he shrugs, knowing I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.  What I wanted was in the box on the table, waiting for me.  “No, thank you.”, I smile at him dismissively.  “I’ll leave you to it.”, with that he turns and stalks out, closing the door behind him.

Inhaling deeply, I lift the lid off the box.  A small cloud of dust floats up.  I peek inside and, taking another deep breath, I pull out the first thing.  In a small evidence bag is my mother’s favorite necklace – a tiny gold heart with a red crystal inside dangles on the chain.  Suddenly my knees give out, and I fall into the chair positioned behind me.  My breath hitches.  I thought this was lost.  I didn’t even know she was wearing it.  Why would she?  This belonged to my older sister, Lucy, who drowned when I was 4.

An instant pain flashes through my head, dislodging an old memory.  I must have just turned 4.  There is birthday candles, sixteen of them; Lucy is blowing them out.  I reach my hand towards the cake, but she slaps it and I start crying.  Mom yells at her, asking why she did that, but she just smiles and shrugs.

Then another, more painful, pain shears into my head, doubling me over with its intensity.  We’re at the lake, having a picnic on the bank.  Mom receives a call and gets up to answer it. Lucy wants the last cupcake, but I got it first.  She is mad, grabbing for it.  I scream and push her, and she pushes back harder.  I topple over and fall into the river.  Mom turns and sees me fall.  She saved me.

After she made sure I was okay, she sprinted to Lucy, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her into the lake.  She was pushing her head under the water. NO!  I ran to her, trying to get her away from Lucy, but I was too small to do anything.  She died.  Mom killed her!

I open my eyes, tears streaming down my face.  “Now you see why I had to do it?  She was drunk that night and she was going to hurt you.  Just like she hurt me…”,  I look up, startled.  She is sitting on the table, my imaginary friend.  “Lucy?”


I’d like to nominate:

Jill@RantAndRaveAboutBooks
Drew@TheTattooedBookGeek
Gretchen@ChicNerdReads

My prompt:

A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed, but what she doesn’t know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the real monsters – her parents!

Start with:  “Mommy!  Help me…”

Posted in Writing

My idea for a Novel – What do you think?

I walk up the creaky steps.  Taking a deep breath, I turn the doorknob and push the door open.  Surprisingly, the door swings open silently.  The house inside looks clean, and yet, also abandoned.  Weird…  I take a step inside.  To my left is a spiral staircase.  I turn to my right, walk into what looks like a sitting room, with beautiful, old wooden couches in dark mahogany.  As I run my fingers over the closest couch, expecting a layer of dust, I notice a large painting above a fireplace.  Framed in gold, a petite girl with hair black as night and a full mouth.  Her pale blue eyes are in stark contrast with her dark features.
I keep walking, turning to the next open door, a dining room.  Silver candle holders sit in the middle of the table, wax pooling around the holders.  Seems someone was in a hurry to get out.  I can see a family having dinner here, a mother and father, and, judging from the placing of plates, two children.  Eerily, I turn, thinking I saw something move in the next room.  Walking closer, a chill running up my spine, I realize it was only my reflection in a huge mirror.  Somehow it seems like the mirror is moving with me, forming tiny ripples on its surface.  I move forward, hand outstretched, my fingers almost touching the mirror.  “You don’t want to do that.”, a male voice intrudes on my mind babble.  He grabs my hand and pulls me away from the mirror, close to his chest. He’s tall, is the first thing I think, with big hands.  I look up into eyes like a winter storm, black hair falling slightly over one eye.  I lift my hand, urged to move the hair out of his eyes almost subconsciously before I come to my senses and drop my hand back to my side.  “Would you mind letting go of me?”, I start pulling away, stepping back.   He lets go but steps forward.  “Don’t!”, but before  could even think about it I take one big step back, feeling something cold behind me, at first solid but then it becomes almost like liquid and I fall backward.  He grabs my waist, pulling me toward him and we fall.  I open my eyes, breathing hard.  I’m laying on top of him.  “You’re really crazy, do you know that?”, I guess it wasn’t really a question since he didn’t wait for an answer.  “If you had gone into that mirror I wouldn’t have been able to help you!  No-one who goes in has ever come out again!”, he’s almost yelling now, worry and fear clear in his eyes.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”, I whisper.  I roll off of him, get up and stare at the mirror.
He’s tall, is the first thing I think, with big hands.  I look up into eyes like a winter storm, black hair falling slightly over one eye.  I lift my hand, urged to move the hair out of his eyes almost subconsciously before I come to my senses and drop my hand back to my side.  “Would you mind letting go of me?”, I start pulling away, stepping back.   He lets go but steps forward.  “Don’t!”, but before  could even think about it I take one big step back, feeling something cold behind me, at first solid but then it becomes almost like liquid and I fall backward.  He grabs my waist, pulling me toward him and we fall.  I open my eyes, breathing hard.  I’m laying on top of him.  “You’re really crazy, do you know that?”, I guess it wasn’t really a question since he didn’t wait for an answer.  “If you had gone into that mirror I wouldn’t have been able to help you!  No-one who goes in has ever come out again!”, he’s almost yelling now, worry and fear clear in his eyes.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”, I whisper.  I roll off of him, get up and stare at the mirror.  Now that I really look at the mirror, I realize that there is something ominous, evil about the mirror.  I turn to leave, turning back once to look at the mysterious stranger, then head for the front door.  As soon as I close the door behind me, I descend the stairs and break into a run.  I want to get as far away from that house and the mirror as possible.

So, what do you guys think?  Does this sound like a good idea for a novel?  Would you want to read this based on the idea above?  Hope to hear what all of you think.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Love Always,
C

Posted in Writing

Buying Books

Have you ever spent hours to find the perfect list of books to acquire next, to ensure that you have high-quality novels to add to your ever-growing collection?

You read blogs and reviews, do your homework, check your bookshelf to ensure you find upcoming sequels that you just must have…

And then, with your list and the best intentions ever, you set out to the best bookstore to find these books. You walk in. The smell of books excite you, making your palms sweat in anticipation. You move closer to your favorite section of shelves. Smiling, you run your hand over the spines of the closest books, eyes shiny.

Then you spot a title/cover/word/phrase that stops all thought and your good intentions evaporate.  Your list flutters to the floor… Books find their way into your hands, somehow, as if by magic of the purest kind. Adrenaline surges through your veins, and you become a hunter seeking the best finds; the books that will transport you into the lives of unknown characters’ lives to love/hate/envy/yell at/even cry for…

Deflated, you enter your home, realising the good intentions you left with and the hours you wasted working on your list of ‘perfect books‘ were all for nothing. As you unpack your new additions and introduce them to the family, you swear that next time you’ll do better.

Next time you’ll be better!


Guys, if this is you let me know?  What is your book buying weakness?  Covers are mine! I literally shop with my eyes…

Love always,

C