Category Archives: Short Stories

The Moon Curse (A Short Story)

Princess Tatiana adjusted the lace at the end of her ballgown, looking out among the people. The most affluent, the most elite were at the St. Williams Gardens tonight to ostentatiously celebrate the rising of the moon’s tide. St. Williams was an incredibly superstitious country town where everyone followed the rules.

Tonight she would disobey those rules. She would stop the senseless defiling of one of the landowners tenant’s son. An act that had happened every few months since before she was born. She could scarcely think of it without shuddering. It was a horrifying practice that she refused to allow to happen anymore. Tonight was the night.

Tatiana adjusted her crown when no one was watching, knowing that her curly raven’s nest of hair would set off by the rubies and emeralds in the crown, the town’s colors. She smiled and nodded to countrymen as they passed. The women were all settled in a room off of the galley way, probably planning needlepoint and gossiping about barren wombs and slutty daughters.

“Princess Tatiana, you look charming this evening,” It took a moment for his thin rather rodent-like features to register.

“Yes, of course, Lord Wilfrog, how do you do this evening?” He was one of the biggest landowners in the town, however, he treated his land and his wives like chattel. Probably worse than his chattel as he needed to actually sell the cattle.

“As long as the sun rises and sets, all is well,” he smiled, and she imagined his whiskers shook. She excused herself and went to find her father. She could feel his eyes on her bared back and she stifled the need to shiver. The little man had always made her feel entirely uncomfortable.

“Shouldn’t you be holed up somewhere with the other bitches Tatiana?” her nemesis, Lord Canton sneered at her. The boy was jealous because she would always have a higher standing than he would. And she’s always be much more clever than he could dream of being.

“I’ll be sure to let your mother know you said so,” she said, just to watch him squirm.

He shook it of quickly, “Regardless, the lady-folk are to be in the backroom, sipping tea and doing what women folk do. And you are to be doing something entirely different.”

“Well, thank you for that succinct summation of my lady duties. I’ll be sure to make a note of it in my planner. Now if you would excuse me,” she spun out of his light grasp and went on toward her father.

She stopped less to talk to people. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to get to him in time. She needed to stop the travesty before it occurred. Not again. Never again.

Her father stood on the balcony, his hand already wrapped around the boy’s throat. The entire party gave him room, a semi-circle to watch the festivities with a grim resolution. The boy himself was only a few years younger than she. He had kicked out a few times when he was younger, but he’d been soundly beaten for it.

He had learned obedience.

“The dagger,” her father, the Lord King said, open his hand. He whispered something she couldn’t hear in the boy’s ear and he nodded quickly. He closed his eyes.

One of the King’s footmen put the jeweled handled dagger into his hands. This was the only time she ever saw it out. For this outdated ritual. The King pressed it against the boy’s neck, starting a small river of blood to drip down his neck, pooling at the top of his ragged-edged shirt.

The boy’s eyes were tightly closed and then her Father, the Lord King, latched onto him, almost slurping up the boy’s life’s blood. As he drank greedily, the boy became even paler than before. His hands twitched at his side and he made a strangled grunt.

It was horrifying to watch, but yet she couldn’t look away. She knew her father would take a moment to allow the boy to have a bite of a bread with jam and to drink a bit of wine and then he would go for more. Leaving the boy half dead on the floor.

When that happened, she knew what she would do.

Her father’s hand had blood flowing over his fingers. The boy’s pale skin glistened in the moonlight. She could smell blood and the scent of the aroused males around her. They liked to watch, they seemed to feed on her father feeding on this poor lad.

When another foot soldier came with the tray of bread with jam and the wine, she knew she had to make her move. Her father disengaged from the boy and the boy stood there swaying in the wind. A small shove would send him over the edge. And really what would be better for him? To live like this for the rest of his days until The King accidentally took to much, which happened more often than not? Or to be freed from these procedures. To fly free.

Before she could truly registered what she was to do, Tatiana rushed over and pushed the boy. He wasn’t able to cry out, but she could hear the final thud as he fell down the three stories.

“What have you done?” her father asked. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”
She remained silent, defiant. Raising her chin against his cruelty. His sickening madness. What kind of man would do such a horrid thing?

“Oh dear, she’s ruined us,” the footman whispered under his breath, but loud enough she could hear. “She’s ruined us all.”

Her father marched over to her, blood clinging to his beard, dripping from the fingers that were pointing over the banister.

“That my foolish girl, was the only thing that separated the town from the monster that’s inside of me.”

‘What ?”

“The blood from my bi-blow in the pale full moon’s light keeps me from turning into a monstrous beast that will roam the land, slaughtering and killing along the way,” he said, and she noticed how long and sharp his teeth truly were. “Now I’ll have to take another one of my children to finish tonight’s job.”

She gulped, inaudibly. She had a feeling she knew who that unfortunate soul would be.

This flash fiction piece was in response to April’s #writestuff prompt. Check it out and if you want to share your own piece.

Aloha y’all!


Filed under Short Stories, writing

The bait and switch | Short Story

I found this is my drafts you guys. I have no idea why I didn’t post it…so here’s something I wrote in February…


Bodies were sliding against each other, grinding and bouncing. The club was stifling, the air thick with expectations and cheap cologne. They were all young 20-somethings in the beginning of their lives, and loving it all. Slurping down ladies night cheap drinks and the boys drinking as much beer as possible to try to show they were the men there tonight.

Dani sat on the side, watching as her friends danced around. Forever the purse watcher.

“Dani hold my purse, you’re great!” said a blonde girl on her co-ed floor. She didn’t even know here name, but just added it to the pile. She  wondered why she hadn’t stayed home to read. This just wasn’t her scene. She preferred to go out and watch bands play. Drinking cheap beer with cheaper girls, partying until dawn.

This wasn’t her life.

Someone stumbled into her, and a drinking spilled on her shoulder. No apology. She gritted her teeth, but didn’t say a word.

She sighed, blowing the persistent curl from her light brown eyes. She wasn’t wearing makeup, she felt it was a waste of time. She wore Burts Bees lip balm to keep her lips soft and supple. The purple dress she was wearing was the perfect foil to her dark brown skin. It had a mod feel to it, with orange deco jewels circling her collar. Her legs were thick at the hips. She would never have the coveted “thigh gap.” Surrounded by all of the bodies moving, teaming, sweating in their size 0 bodies, she felt so incredibly out of place. She wanted to crawl back into her favorite dive bar, drinking cheap beers, smoking cigarettes behind the place and dancing to music.

But it was her roommate Sara’s birthday.

So here she was.

She’d quickly learned to get drinks with as few ingredients as possible. Who can mess up tequila, orange juice and grenadine? She took a drink and made a sour face. Apparently, that chick could. Did she put turpentine in there? She shrugged and kept drinking it anyway. Money was money and alcohol was alcohol. She couldn’t go through with this torture sober. The lame EDM wannabe music blaring in the background made her want to stab her eardrums with a toothpick. She took another drink and looked around.

That’s when she saw him.

He walked toward her with a self-confidence that she seldom saw from the boys around here. Dark hair, darker eyes, and a smile spoke of some possibly dark things to come. She stopped herself from glancing behind her to see if he was walking toward her. She was against the wall. There was no one else there.

He leaned down and he smelled like a spicy heaven.

“Hey I’m Chris.”

“Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his arm as she leaned forward to hear him. His forearm felt like it was made from bricks.

“I’m a Marine,” he voice had a low rumble to it. He leaned closer, trying to not glance down at her bared cleavage.

“Oh you are?” Her eyes sparkled. She’d always had a thing for a man in a uniform and from what she could tell, he would wear it well.

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m on leave before I head out to Afghanistan.”

She felt a pang of sympathy, “Wow, shouldn’t you be saying goodbye to your loved ones?”

“I don’t have anyone,” he paused his works, swallowing deeply. “I just wanted one night where I wouldn’t have to be alone before I left. One last night. You know?” He was so close to her, his breath tickled her neck. She could feel his lips gently shaping the words. and she wanted to taste them.

“Yea, I get it.”

And he leaned back and looked into her eyes. Paused a beat. Then patted her on the shoulder. “Yeah, I thought that would work, thanks!” He straightened and walked with that same single-sighted purpose to the busty blonde sitting at the end of the bar. He had practiced his line on her so he could get laid by some other chick. He probably wasn’t even in the Armed Forces. What a- what a-

She was choking with anger. She stood, the chair sliding into the wall with a crack. The people near her turned to see what was going to happen. She grabbed her purse and her half empty glass. She rushed at him, teeth bared. Letting out a warrior cry, she threw it in his face, the plastic cup bounced off his nose.

“Whydon’t you remember that while you’re in Afghanistan? Creep.” She turned and walked out the door.

Fuck these people. She needed a real drink.


This story is the incredibly late addition to the #writestuff TweetChat monthly prompt. February’s prompt was Anti-Valentine’s Day. Here’s what came up. Let me know what you think in the comments.

Aloha y’all! 

PS: Did you read Chapter One from the Just One Night serial? Click here and check it out. 


Filed under Short Stories

Part Two | Just One Night erotic serial


The last post that I wrote on here was a book review for a very lovely book that was very innocent. Now there’s time for my serial that is anything but innocent. (I would recommend if you don’t like romance that leans more toward erotica, then this may not be the story for you.) Otherwise, check it out and let me know what you think in the comments. If you missed Part One, go back and read. Otherwise, you’re missing a bit. 

Venise is a woman on the edge. She has a no-strings attached creed. She’s all work and no play though that line gets blurry at times. In this chapter, she’s trying to figure out whether she’s surrounded by friend or foe. 


Where Venise is trying to figyure out where she is.

The ringing in her ears brought her back to the present. She stopped herself from moving and tried to control her breathing as she assessed her situation. Her eyes felt so heavy, was she blindfolded? Her heart started beating faster. This did not feel like the typical interrogation scene. She wondered how long she’d been unconscious.

It all came flooding back. The wedding. The sexy security guard, who definitely had something else up his sleeve. She felt a sluggish flash of warmth when she thought of how she’d gotten caught. It really couldn’t get any better than that. This would be a great story to tell Anise and Shana.

If she could could get herself out of this one.

They’d been after her for years. Always wanting to assess her. Take her apart and put her back together. The last time… she felt a cold pit in the bottom her stomach grow. The last, she almost didn’t make it back. Venise Song aka The Black Widow was on a short hit list of operatives that are possibly too dangerous to be loose.  That last time…when she was in that cement cell. Her shoulder started to burn as a reminder.

She threw up a brick wall. Now was not a time to take a horrifying glimpse into memory lane. She needed a plan. Where was she?

She could hear the faint clack of heels on linoleum. The air smelled clean, artificially so. Undercurrent of disinfectant. A hospital? A lab? She didn’t hear any breathing in the room with her, but was well aware there may be video on her at all times. She moved a little testing the bonds. She was tied down to a bed. A pretty uncomfortable one. She felt taller, like she was lying on a precipice. She had to assume the person looking after her was taller than normal.

She rubbed her fingers together. They’d taken off her gel nail tips, to the quick it felt. There were some raw spots on them. This made her highly pissed off. She’d just gotten those done for the job on Saturday. She couldn’t help herself. How mouth thinned to a line. Those bastards.

A door swung open closing behind the person with a controlled click.

“Well, we see that you are conscious.” The voice was feminine, somewhat near her left shoulder. She tried to tense her muscles, but found she was unable to do so. She frowned. She knew she was fastened down in some capacity and she didn’t have control of her body.

“Who are you? Where am I? What is this?” Her voice was a slurred whisper. Her eyelids felt so heavy, she couldn’t lift them.

“Oh, I’m sure you can figure this one out m’dear. Or maybe you can’t. You have found a roster of enemies, haven’t you?” The voice sound very amused.

She tried to tune in on the voice, listening for clues. No real accent or lilt to her voice. She could’ve been a news broadcaster for Anywhere, USA.

“That isn’t really the issue, is it?” the voice said, words turning hard. “We need to know why you were at that wedding.”

“Because I was bored,” she answered, mentally shrugging. Her arms still felt numb, though her feet and hands had that pins and needles feel.

“You’re trying to say that you accidentally wound up at the wedding one of the biggest mergers America has ever seen. And you just showed up there? Some random wedding crashing gone wrong? Excuse me if I don’t believe you,” she said. “This will only hurt but for a moment. Maybe longer. Hope your body is still numbed.”

That’s when the drill started up. It was loud filling the room. Venise felt that coldness in her pit grow. She had to get out of here. She still couldn’t move. The sound of the drill was growing, moving closer to her head. What was this bitch planning to do? She turned her face fruitlessly to the side. She refused to scream.

Venise knew for sure that she was in way over her head. She steeled herself for the inevitable.

“No.” This voice was male. Deep. Authoritative. Somehow familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. With that one word she felt air shift as the woman took a step away. Mercifully, the drill stopped.

“I just wanted to see what she knows, daddy,” the woman’s voice became younger. Childlike. Coy. What is this madness?

“She doesn’t know that you wouldn’t really drill into her head, pumpkin. You should run along and play,” he said. Venise listened as the footsteps faded.

“You’ll have to excuse my daughter. She’s a bit…over zealous,” he said. “Let’s take off this blindfold. It will be a bit bright.”

The blindfold was lifted. The white of the room was blinding and a pair of blue eyes came into focus. A pair of familiar blue eyes.

Things had just gotten more complicated.

“Hello dollface.”


How is Venise going to get out of this one? Tune in next week to find out.



Filed under Short Stories, writing