“Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.”
J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Wednesday, March 18, 2015


Our writing prompt for today was to write 25 sentences that start with the word "GREEN". Not an easy task. But a challenge is always good.
(Side note, write 'green' that many times and it stops sounding like a word.)


1-Green beans are her favorite.

2-Green is the color of grass beneath my feet.

3-Green with envy for your life.

4-Green gobs of goobers get engorged.

5-Green means go.

6-Green eyes see better.

7-Green stripes on her dress distracted him.

8-Green and yellow spilled over the hillside like an ocean wave.

9-Green leaves signal the beginning of spring.

10-Green was her favorite color, until it wasn’t.

11-Green smoke plumed from the witch’s tiny chimney.

12-Green walls, green carpet, green chair—she thought she might 
vomit—green of course.

12-Green nails tapped against the keyboard, a flurry of lucky 

13-Green moss crept up the wall leading the way to the broken 

14-Green is the color of money, and want, and inequality.

15-Green soda sat in a tall glass, beads of sweat lolling down the 

16-Green slime coated the dock creating a dangerous footpath.

17-Green began to spread across her stomach and up towards her 

18-“Green!” she shouted and everyone ran.

19-Green polkadots covered his silly tie.

20-Green is gross.

21-Green—all she could see from the hills to the horizon—green.

22-Green is actually very easy to be.

23-Green eyes stared back at him.

24-Green light meant she didn’t have to let off the gas.

25-Green men, tiny and fierce, chased her through the old house.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Writing Prompt- FootPrint

Phoebe gave John a withering look then turned away. She stormed up the stairs and shut the door with a  bang.


Who did he think he was anyway? Questioning her motives. Her motives were the same as his. All right, maybe she was more interested in the money, but he was too.

The house they lived in was old. The market was good. Selling seemed to be the right thing to do. Just thinking about a brand new house gave her butterflies. New carpet, appliances that worked, no incessant creaking.

John let his emotions control him. Sentimentality killed Phoebe. Why hang on to things? She just didn’t understand.

With a sigh, she plopped on the bed. At least it was new. She closed her eyes trying to block out the look on John’s face when she’d told him she called a realtor. Ridiculous.

The sound of a door closing downstairs made Phoebe open her eyes. She looked at the bedroom door and sighed. Her eyes wandered to the ceiling above her and her breath caught in her throat.

There on the textured ceiling was a footprint. Phoebe cocked her head to the side. Maybe it was…no, a footprint. More precise, a bootprint. A man’s size. John didn’t own any boots.

Before she could ponder further, Phoebe heard a noise. Footsteps on the hardwood stairs. Slow, steady, purposeful steps. Hadn’t John just left? The steps stopped outside her room. Phoebe leaned up on one elbow.

Just outside her doorway she could see the tips of two, large, tan boots. 

Friday, November 14, 2014

Writing Prompt-In the Mirror

In The Mirror

The mirror hung in the foyer. It’s gilded frame an extravagance of flowers and cherubs. The reflective glass shined and sparkled, always perfectly clean. It was expensive. It was beautiful.

It was also the most ignored piece in the house.

Nell walked past the mirror dozens of times of day. She never looked at it. Most definitely never looked into it. Not because she didn’t know it was there. Oh, she knew. The mirror called to her constantly. Nell answered, but only once a day. The rest of the time, she pretended not to hear.

Today, Nell had busied herself with charity work. ‘Save the Ferrets’ or some such nonsense. She sat hunched over her laptop casually putting words together for a flyer. She wondered to herself who had roped her into this one. Her husband, Dan, would tease her about it. Which would irritate her. Then they would fight. She would cry. Every. Single. Night.

Focus. Nell pulled her thoughts together. She googled a website and began scrolling through information. “Facts about the dwindling mink population” Ah, minks, not ferrets.


Nell’s shoulder twitched. She blinked twice. “The slaughter of innocent animals for human…”


No. Her eyes closed. Nell considered getting headphones, but she knew it wouldn’t help. The voice permeated everything.

“Please.” The voice sounded sad.

With a sigh, Nell slammed her laptop shut. She rubbed her temples before standing up. Her legs shook. They always did.

Down the staircase, Nell passed family portraits. Herself and Dan shoving wedding cake in faces. Dan and her in front of the house, her belly huge. The three of them in the hospital, in the park, in the living room beside a Christmas tree.

That’s where the pictures ended. For two years, no pictures, no Christmas, no…family.


The voice had turned angry. Nell hurried down the last few stairs, not wanting to deal with her anger.
Standing in front of the mirror, Nell stared at the floor. Her too-long jeans covered most of her bare feet. Her breathing was ragged, her heart unsteady.

“There you are.”

Ever so slowly, Nell raised her head. There in the mirror, instead of her reflection, she was greeted by a young girl. Black curls, an echo of Nell’s own, framed a sweet face with bright green eyes.

Nell smiled at her daughter. “Hello Carina.”

“What took you so long?” Carina asked.

“I’m sorry.” Nell knew that any excuse would be rejected. Instead she avoided the question.

“She wants to know where it is.” Carina said this and glanced to her right. Nell tried not to follow her daughter’s gaze.

“Tell her I’m still looking.”

“She says time is running out. What does that mean? Does that mean I’m coming home?”

Nell’s heart seemed to stop. She swallowed hard. “I hope so, sweetie.”

“I miss you Mommy.”

Tears filled Nell’s eyes. She blinked rapidly trying to stop them. The witch hated tears.

“I miss you, too.”

Carina smiled weakly. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she did, a bony hand appeared to her right. Nell watched in horror as the hand grasped her daughter’s arm and pulled her away. The surface of the mirror rippled. Nell stared at her reflection and watched the tears fall.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Writing Prompt-Picture

(This was our writing prompt for today. I looked at this man for quite a while. He seems sweet. Run down. Then I thought, what if he was the exact opposite of that? What if he was a villain? So, I wrote this scene for my WIP and BAM! I got a new villain for my book!)


The smell of rotten fish hit Renda like a club. She stopped and held a hand over her nose. Kiernan turned and raised an eyebrow.


“Don’t be rude,” she said from behind her hand. “Just because you’re used to the slum.”

Instead of a retort, he smiled. That was so much worse. Part of her wished she hadn’t come. But, Kiernan was insistent. And so damned persuasive.

“It isn’t far.”

When he reached for her hand, Renda gave it to him. They picked their way through the refuse and bodies that littered the dark alley. Someone coughed, a terrible, deep sound that must have hurt. Renda grimaced.

“The glamorous life of a Tether.” Kiernan emphasized this with a sweep of his arm.

“This isn’t a result of being a Tether. That’s ridiculous. There must be Drake here, too.”

Renda had tried to avoid looking at the people hunched in doorways and lying on the filthy ground. Now, she wanted to stop and gaze at each one. Wanted to check every pair of eyes. Surely there would be some with flecks.

Kiernan sighed. “Doubtful. You’d be hard pressed to find a dragon who’d been shunned like these people have.”

They passed a fire burning in a makeshift pit. Rocks of all sizes had been set in a circle, piled haphazardly to contain the flames. Three men and one woman stood next to it. Renda smiled at them as she passed. One man glared at her, the woman spat at her feet. Renda stopped and stared at her.

“Get out, you filthy crow.”

Renda’s intake of breath pleased the old woman who cackled, caw-caw, and flapped her arms like wings.

Kiernan pulled her hand and led her away. Renda kept looking back. The woman kept calling to her. As they moved forward the echoes of ‘caw-caw’ followed them.

“What did I do?” Renda looked at Kiernan.

“Your eyes.”

“Oh.” Renda blinked twice. She wasn’t Drake. Yet. But the orange flecks in her brown eyes were unmistakable.

“But, my being Drake doesn’t have anything to do with why she’s here.”

“That’s what you think,” Kiernan ran his hand through his hair, “but they see it differently.”

He stopped next to a small doorway. The wooden door had a gaping hole in the bottom half that let light into the alley. Kiernan rapped on the door in a pattern, knock-knock-pause-knock-knock.

An eyeball appeared in a crack between the door and the wall. Kiernan nodded and the door swung wide. He led her inside. The room was lit by a fire burning in the hearth and dozens of candles that covered almost every flat surface in the room. The smell of the alley was replaced by the smell of smoke. And something vaguely sweet.

“Don’t move.” Kiernan’s grip on her hand tightened. They waited.

“You’ve brought a traitor?” A gravelly voice spoke, but Renda couldn’t see where it came from.

“She’s not a traitor.” Kiernan defended her. About time.

“She’s Drake, yes?” The voice whispered.

Kiernan nodded. Renda wanted to look around, to search the room for the person speaking. But the obvious anger in the voice kept her still.

“She looks for answers.” With his hand on her back, Kiernan gently pushed her forward.

A table sat in the middle of the room covered with melted wax in reds, greens and blues. Four tall candles sat atop the table burning brightly. As she neared the flames, Renda realized there was one dark corner. This is where the voice came from.

“Answers are costly,” the voice said, “Is she willing to pay?”

Renda looked to Kiernan for permission. He nodded. She took a piece of fabric from her pocket. Unfolding it, she held it out. The red gem in the ring caught the candlelight.

A hand emerged from the dark corner, wrinkled and dirty. It was followed by an arm, then torso. Impossibly, his face was the last to emerge into the flickering light. He wore black-- sweater, pants and knit cap on his head. His wrinkles were smudged with soot. The only break in the blackness that made him was his white beard and piercing blue eyes. Clear, fleckless eyes.

Kiernan cleared his throat, “Renda of Lear Clan, may I introduce Mellor.”