Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Write...Edit...Publish. Mr. Wag a ghost Story

Time again for another flash fiction story for Write...Edit...Publish, created by my awesome, Aussie friend, Denise Covey. The inspiration this month is Halloween of course and ghost in particular. I hope you enjoy my story and when you have finished reading, please head over and read the other stories by talented writers. Here's the link.





Mr. Wag

I threw up.

“Again?” Mom said walking into the bathroom. “What’s going on Betsy? Is something wrong at school?”

“No,” I said. I’d already told my parents. They took me to Dr. Howard, a therapist. He didn’t believe me and neither did my parents. I knew it was hopeless to say anything again. I asked for a dog. A dog would sleep with me, walk with me, protect me. Dad said “no.” My parents bought me a goldfish instead. It swam around and looked stupid.

The temperature outside had dropped overnight. I was glad. I pulled on my new coat. Pink with white faux fur around the hood. I pulled it up over my blonde curls. Mom settled my backpack over my shoulders.

“Are you coming home for lunch?” Mom asked.

“No,” I said. Truth was, I’d love to come home for lunch, but that meant I’d have to walk by the cemetery two extra times. School was only three blocks away. But the cemetery was one block on the opposite side of the road and stretched all the way past the school. Recess was a nightmare.

“It’s not cold enough to have your hood up,” Mom said. “It’ll mess up your pretty hair.”

“That’s OK,” I said and hurried outside before Mom could ask me anymore questions.

I ran toward the corner and then stopped. I could see them. Pacing between graves. Some leaned on trees. Others stood before their grave stone weeping. I could hear them too. The trick was to not let them know I could see and hear them. I pulled up my hood even more and tucked my head down before I crossed the street. Each step forward brought more anxiety. I felt sick again and swallowed the vomit in my mouth. I knew how each one died. Some had swollen eyes, others were really old, a few wore military uniforms, the Civil War right through the current one. By the time I reached school half a dozen were following me including a really scary one with half his head blown away. I pretended I didn't see them.

In class I found my seat. They hovered by my desk, whispering. “My name is Frank,” the one with half a face said. “Tell my Mom I love her.” “I’m Walter,” an old man said. “I miss my wife.” “Alice, Alice, Alice,” a third one repeated over and over again.

Tears stung my eyes and I wiped them before anyone noticed. My teacher was reviewing our spelling words for the week. “Cemetery,” she said. I almost jumped out of my skin.

“What’s wrong Betsy?” she asked quietly coming over to my desk and standing right inside of Frank. She shivered and pulled her sweater closer.

“Nothing,” I lied. She wouldn't believe me if I told her. Then my parents would get a phone call and I’d go back to Dr. Howard.

When Miss Stewart, my teacher, left I addressed the ghost under my breath. “Go away, I have to study.” They went to the back of the class and stared at me. That’s when a little boy joined them. There were tire marks across his chest.

After lunch I went outside with my classmates. I didn’t have any friends. The other kids all thought I was weird. I hid as close to the school building as possible but it didn’t matter. More ghost joined the ones who were near.

Frustrated I blurted out. “I can’t help any of you. I don’t know your Mom, or your wife. Go away.” Todd Greenburg heard me and stopped to stare, the ball he’d been playing with firmly in his grasp. I gave him an embarrassed smile and felt my lips quivering.

The walk home was flanked by the ghost insistent whispers. “I don’t want to die.” “I love my Mom.” “War is hell.” “The doctor said I’d be fine.” “Can you call my Mom? Her name is Wanda.” “My wife is in Pleasantville Retirement.” Alice was weeping in a high pitched scream. I had a headache.

That’s when it happened. I saw the dog. A German Shepard. A shadow of its living self, it came running across the street right before an oncoming car. The car drove by and the dog ran right through it. His tail was wagging, his tongue lolled out. He had a collar on. I reached down and turned his name tag over.

“Mr. Wag,” I said and smiled. I petted his ghostly head. Mr. Wag growled at the human ghost. They stepped back.

I continued to walk home with Mr. Wag by my side. The human ghost didn't follow me. I had a bologna sandwich and gave a piece to Mr. Wag. He ate it, except, not really. I had to throw it away. No human ghost bothered me while I studied and later Mr. Wag sat at my feet while I watched T.V. 

When bedtime arrived, Mr. Wag jumped up on my bed beside me. That night when the ghost crowded into my room Mr. Wag growled at them, jumped off the bed and chased them out. Then he came back and lay down next to me again. Happy, I petted him and his tailed wagged.

In the morning Mr. Wag greeted me with ghostly kisses. He came to school with me, lifting his leg at random bushes and peeing. Nothing came out of course. He lay next to my desk at school. The human ghost hid from him. We went outside together. I walked Mr. Wag all around the school yard and wasn't troubled by any ghost.

Life changed after Mr. Wag came along. I finally found some good friends. It’s been nine years and I’m headed off to college soon. Mr. Wag will come with me. I love Mr. Wag.

Word Count: 970


I’m really glad that I don’t see dead people. I did have a dog that I loved very much. He’d always lie at my feet when I worked on my stories. After we put him down because he was old and sick, I heard his nails on the wood floor. I told him to go to the other side and never heard him again. I miss him terribly. 

In other news. I could use your help. I have two flash fiction e-book stories available on Amazon. They are Free. It says 99 cents but below that it says, read this title for free. I need some reviews, if you wouldn't mind downloading them, reading them and giving me a review I'd appreciate it. While your at it hit the 'like' by my name.Thanks.

Here are the links.










Once again, thank you so much. Nancy


Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Insecure Writer's Support Group

It's time for another addition of ISWG, created by Alex J. Cavanuagh.

Today I'm going to make this short. In the post below you'll find my two newest e-books. Both are flash fiction stories and in the next couple weeks I'll have an additional 5 join  them. I'm hoping that readers will finally discover me. Trapped Memories Linger will be free as soon as Amazon changes the status.

Why am I Insecure?

Well, that has to do with my general inability to believe in myself. All I can say is; how we raise our children matters. What we instill in them is important. Even so, life sometimes leaves a stable person wounded. I am one of those. But I have the attitude. "Never give up, never surrender." Galaxy Quest.

I'll let you know if my strategy works.

Nancy

Now Available:







Links are on the side bar.

Nancy


Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Now Available, Romancing Wisteria

Greetings

I'm pleased to announce my e-book, Romancing Wisteria is now available for just .99.

Enjoy

If you purchase this book, please leave a review. To purchase go here.
Thanks,
Nancy

Book cover by me.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Write...Edit...Publish, Mirror, mirror.

Time to indulge in a short flash fiction story in the blog hop with Write…Edit…Publish, a fabulous once monthly challenge created by my wonderful Aussie friend, Denise Covey. To participate or to read other wonderful stories go here.

The challenge this month is to write a story in 1,000 words or less. The topic is Changing Faces.  




Mirror, mirror.

Still half asleep I rinsed off the scrub I’d used to wash my face and reached for the towel. Once dry I blinked at my reflection and turned to see if someone was behind me. No one. I gazed with disbelief at the woman staring back at me. Unbelievable.  My red hair was gone and in its place were black locks.  In fact, nothing about me was the same. Instead, I looked like that bimbo on that reality T.V. show. You know the one. Gorgeous, yes, but she had a trashy mouth and boobs the size of watermelons. Ugh!

Staring down at my enormous chest I knew none of my bras would fit. Could I even get my clothes on?

I crept out of the bathroom to my bedroom and shut the door. How did this happen? Okay, I had a wart on my chin. Mom believed in holistic medicine and herbal remedies. This wasn’t the first time she’d gone to the Wiccan at the end of the block for a remedy. The instructions said I should take one teaspoon before bed. But I figured, if one teaspoon would remove the wart, the whole bottle should get rid of all my imperfections, not turn me into a reality T.V. look-a-like. What was I going to do now?

I peeled my legs into my blue jeans and grabbed my brown hoodie. The zipper wouldn’t go over my gigantic breast. I reached for my pull over navy hoodie and struggled until I managed to get it to my midriff. I thought I was going to rip my pants when I leaned over to tie my shoe laces. The waist was too small and the hips too tight. Done, I tiptoed from my room and exited the back door. Running around the house I made the mall that was three blocks away. Not my favorite shopping destination but hay, I had to get something fast.

Fortunately, despite my new body my personal taste in clothes hadn’t changed. Within half an hour I had new blue jeans, undies, bra and a red hoodie. Yeah, I’m a little obsessed with hoodies but I needed to pull up a hood and hide my newly dark hair.

I knew my next destination, the neighborhood Wiccan. Her house was five houses from mine and painted forest green. She grew herbs in a raised bed by the front door. The scent was sweet and spicy all at the same time. I rang her bell and it tolled the notes of ‘Monster Bash’. Clever.

Ms. Frederick opened the door. “Oh my,” she said. “I never miss a single show.”

“It’s me, Penelope Sanders,” I said. “My mom got the wart remedy from you yesterday and I woke up like this.”

Disbelief colored Ms. Frederick’s green eyes amber. Her mouth opened, then shut and she bit her lips before at last speaking. “Come in Penelope.”

Her house smelled of sandalwood incense and chocolate chip cookies. I wrinkled my nose and followed her to the dining room table.

“Please sit,” she said and waddled off to the kitchen. When she returned she had a plate of cookies and put them down along with a glass of milk in front of me. How old did she think I was? I indulged anyway since I hadn’t eaten yet.

“Did you follow my instructions?” Ms. Frederick asked.

“Well,” I said, swallowing my half eaten bite quickly. “Not exactly.”

“Tell me.”

“I just figured that if one teaspoon could get rid of a wart, the whole bottle would clear up my acne and maybe even get rid of the scar where they removed my appendix. You see, I have a bikini I can’t wear because of it and---“

“The whole bottle! Oh my, oh dear.” Ms. Frederick stood and paced on the other side of the table. “Oh dear.” She wrung her hands and glanced in my direction several times. “Oh no.”

“You can fix this, right?”

She stopped, stared at me for a moment and then sat. “I have no idea, this has never happened before. It might be permanent.”

“But why do I look like this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I was watching the show, ‘Late Night with the Marshalls' when I made the potion.’”

“Great.” My turn to pace. The sandalwood incense had deposited so much smoke in the house that I coughed.

“I don’t like that chick and I don’t want to look like her.” I put my hands on my trim waist, another side effect that I had to admit was pretty awesome.

“I’m sorry Penelope, I’ll try to come up with a remedy but in the meantime, perhaps you could earn some money impersonating Ms. Marshall.”

“You can’t be serious.” I marched from the room and slammed the front door shut. What would mom do when she saw me? I hesitated before opening the front door.

“Who are you?” Mom asked.

At that moment I was really glad my voice hadn’t changed. “It’s me Mom, the wart stuff had a side effect.”

Her mouth opened before she sat down and cried. I joined her.

*
High School was hard after my change, but I survived and now I’d come to terms with my new appearance. One thing Ms. Frederick was right about was the money I could make impersonating Ms. Bimbo Neurotic Marshall. After five years, no remedy in sight, I owned my own home and drove a great little sports car. Life is good.

Word count: 920

I hope you enjoyed my little story. Please head over and read the other fabulous tales of Changing Faces at Write…Edit…Publish.


Next month is….spooky Halloween. Time for a ghost story. I encourage you to join us.

Nancy








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