Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Hive Mind ~ 1K Short Story

 



P.S.  I don't know what the heck Blogspot is doing to the formatting but it has become near impossible to copy & paste my writing. Anyone know how to fix this? 

  

Thursday, October 29, 2020

Boo! ~ Halloween Story Contest for Kids.

 

Doin’ The Skeleton Dance! Announcing The 10th Annual Halloweensie Writing Contest!


100 words using the words skeleton, mask, and creep.  





"Boo!" came from the shadows. 

Bubby jumped and smashed into the dangling skeleton. Its bones clanked down the stairs behind his jack-o'-lantern full of shimmering candy. 

"That'll teach ya' to sneak up on us," snarled three little witches. 

Pirate Kam and his ghost crew laughed as they passed. Bubby stood up straight. He was the Hulk. Impenetrable. 

He adjusted the green grunting mask and picked up his candy. Onward. Two more houses before he had to meet his mother and baby sister at the corner. It was getting darker. 

Where was his mother?

"Boo!" she said. 








The link to learn more about "Doin' the Skeleton Dance Contest"  on Children's Author Susanna Leonard Hill's Blog. 

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

Metropolis Sent Me.

I have several short stories that haven't found markets, so I'll share here on occasion. This dystopian was written in 2019 and originally titled Slaughterhouse and it's under 1k words! I love writing short fiction between novels to work out ideas. Revising novels can take years. (I'm close to completing the revisions of a Middle-Grade Magical Realism story ~ While I await an agent's response on an R&R for another novel.) Writing short fiction is always fun. 



METROPOLIS SENT ME


 

The uneven floorboards creak as I follow the metallic odor, careful not to awaken the supervisor who supposed to be on guard keeping people like me out. Metropolis sent me.


It’s a death sentence to take a photograph. No one’s supposed to know this place exists. The ruins, the rusted leaking pipes dripping sulfur water, my mind reels back: pipes forced down the throats of unwitting birds and geese. Their stomachs pumped with grain and sawdust protrude out of proportion as they gurgle up undigestible remnants—humans could have eaten instead.

 

Fatty liver is still a delicacy to the Upper Echelons of our ruling class, the exploitation class, those who seek out our dwindling resources and gobble them up at their leisure. Even after the fowl disease stopped anyone with any sense. Not for the humans who pumped their veins with antibiotics, allowing them to continue their exploitive appetites.

 

Appetites that destroy our environment. There’s little freshwater or land left to farm. This factory is one of the few outposts churning out animal byproducts. The buffalo and cows died-off a decade ago, the rest of the land creatures drowned in the floods. Birds that didn’t escape were caught and now, here. It used to be only geese and ducks that were turned into fatty liver, now it’s any bird caught alive.

 

 

The camera I brought bangs against the side of my leg as I step over a bird’s carcass, the flesh peeled back, boney ribs exposed.

 

The others in my camp grew too hungry and tired for this mission. As a ranking member of Metropolis, I volunteered. If we release the caged fowl into the sky, they could eventually proliferate and maybe, one day, we’ll eat fresh eggs again. Until then, it’s snails and mollusks we fish-out of the tide pools.

 

I don’t really need the camera for what I’m about to do. But I want a before and after shot. Show the Caver’s the truth. Most, refuse to leave their cave dwellings in fear of viruses.

 

The birds sense my approach, fluttering, cawing, frantically flapping against their cages. “Shh,” I whisper as if that’ll do anything.

 

I’m here to release them.

 

“Who’s there!” shouts the guard.

I slide behind a bloodied cage, a goose’s one eye watches, and hold my breath. Heavy mud-coated boots pass inches away and I shrink smaller, chewing my lips shut. The guard isn’t much taller than my 5-feet. Stunted growth like the rest of us.

 

But he has a turbo. One laser beam in my direction, I’ll disintegrate into vapor, and then what? What happens to my little sister, my baby brother, our grandfather, what’s left of my family.

The birds squawk an ungodly sound. They’re ratting me out.  Sinking,  sinking.

“Hey you – the guard shouts, his turbo steady—“get up!”

 

I push the hair out of my face, so I can meet his eyes. If he’s going to kill me, I want to see it coming. Defiant, jaw set, teeth clenched, I charge forward. 

 

Tackle. I bite his legs and rip at his arms until I’ve wrestled the turbo from his grip, and now he’s up against the wall staring into the barrel.

 

“What’s your plan, young lady?” he says with a bored expression. “Ah… I may already know. You want to repopulate the planet with birds?”

 

I don’t speak and I don’t want to listen. I’m the one holding the turbo. I search the nearby cages for one large enough to set him inside.  “Over there,”  I swing the turbo.

 

“I wouldn’t release these birds if I were you,” he says.

 

They lie! All the guards lie to save their own bought skins. Living side-by-side with the Exploitation Class up on the mountain. It’s manipulation. I’d better hurry before more guards arrive. He could have set an alarm for all I know. The birds are worth more than gold was a decade ago. Food is our scarcest commodity. So are human lives.

 

“They’re sick birds, you know,” he says after sitting inside the cage. “They’re making the Upper Echelon’s sick too, haven’t you heard?”

 

“I know they’re sick.” I lock the cage. “Doesn’t mean the birds can’t live a natural life.”

 

“Cavers sent me,” he says. “I’ve been making sure those on the mountain eat every last bird. They’re dying up there on the mountain, you know. The ruling class is disappearing. Couldn’t stop their exploitation and they never listened when we, the scientists, warned about the health of the birds.”

 

“Shut up.” I leave the slaughter room and enter the office, pull the wires on all security systems, and return to the birds. Open the cages and I begin scooting the birds out.

“They’re sick,” the guard shouts. “They’ll be sick for generations.”

 

Ignoring the guard, I tip over the buckets—is that grain? I squat down and scoop it back inside. I’ll bring what I can with me. Water buckets, blood buckets, I smell ammonia and gag as I flip another bucket drum.

 

The geese squawk, webbed feet quickening as I hold the door open until every able-bodied fowl is outside and soaring into the chemtrail-streaked sky.

 

“Don’t do it!” the guard shouts. “I’ve been here for a long time, making sure no one releases the birds into the wild.”

“So, you’re just keeping them to suffer more forced-feeding. You’re lying.”

“It’s the only way to get the Upper Echelons out. They believe it’s their privilege to destroy every last living thing on this planet for their consumption.”

“No kidding.” I poke at two robins lingering behind while the guard rambles on and issues more warnings. “Where’s your tattoo?” I ask.

He sticks his dark brown arm through the cage, showing me the zig-zag river, the Caver’s tattoo and I take a deep breath. “What’d you do with the U.E. Guard?”

He shrugs.

“Either you tell me or you tell Metropolis,” I warn.

“I feed him to the birds.”

Monday, June 1, 2020

Make America Stop Killing Black People!



I Love my Brothers and Sisters! and I stand by them.

I woke up today to destruction where I live and where my family's small business, a jazz club, is struggling to survive and I marched on Saturday with Black Lives Matter!  


I went jogging after work and was swept up into the march.



Saturday, May 30th, 2020  New York City:


Bending a knee on Hudson Street in Greenwich Village 
A peaceful march through the Village and into Washington Square Park.

Black Lives Matter!



And then the Opportunists moved in a torched our town!   The Looters are NOT the protestors!

A lot of bad players out there taking advantage.

And we have an illegitimate POTUS hiding in a bunker!  Instigating this!!!

We need you, President Jo Biden!



#VOTEVOTEVOTE

We need to show up such large numbers, it'll be impossible for the GOP to cheat.  It's all the republicans know.  Cheat and lie and they need to GO!






Friday, May 15, 2020

Espresso, Cocktails, and Jazz at Zinc Bar's Cafe To-Go.


We're usually a Jazz Club so we improvised! 


Welcome! 
Your Host!
You Host!  Me :)


WE LOVE NY! 









Step Right Up and Order




Baked Goods from Grandaisy Bakery in Tribeca!
Pastries and Roman Pizza from Grandaisy Bakery





Our Mascota Stella Keeps Guard.
Our Mascota Stella! 







Until Next Time! 


82 West 3rd Street  (Between Thompson/ Sullivan Streets)
We have a couple chairs out in the sun  --- 6 Feet apart! 
DON'T FORGET YOUR MASK! 


ZINCBAR.COM

Sunday, April 19, 2020

What I'm Writing during COVID-19




All kinds of plans happen when you think about quarantine.  

But most of those haven't happened because my family has a music club in New York City that we quickly transformed into a to-go cafe for espresso and pastries (Grandaisy pizza as of today! More walking meals to come.), and I've been working every day leaving little time to write, paint or even clean my apartment. I don't miss this one, but you can imagine the state of neglected apt. --with four grown people!  ugh! 

While I wait for the YA fantasy I drafted just as we entered into lockdown percolate, I've decided to rewrite a much older novel. Actually, my first "trunked" novel. It's an upper middle-grade magical realism, maybe a fantasy? I'll know after more revisions. 


Today's research 


Auroras
Butterflies
Cleavers or Goosegrass
Crows


This was the first chapter. 

I love writing for kids and teens and writing fantasy that'll take me out of this world for a time. With tragic news every day on social media. (I don't have a TV, thankfully) writing and reading are my escape! I just have to be extra determined right now and find the time with the added responsibilities. 

I wish you health and wellbeing. 
"health is wealth" as my mother often said, I know she wasn't the first to say it.  


wash your hands 
don't touch your face
keep 6' apart

 and remember 


I wear my mask for you and you wear yours for me.  



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Monday, March 23, 2020

Sheltering in New York City During a Pandemic.


I hope you are well, wherever you are in this world-wide lockdown. I don't think a single continent has been spared the novel coronavirus, Covid-19.  (link to CDC World Map) 

I’m sheltering with my family in New York City. My home for the last 30 years. I love this place, its people, the diversity, especially now. Mayor De Blasio and Governor Cuomo have given me assurance that we’ll get through this. ALL OF US. The United States. The world. We’re in this together. We have to look out for each other by STAYING HOME.  

I’m witnessing New York City become silent, a pause for the cause. A respite as we care for our loved ones. Heal the sick.

I’ll continue writing, books and short stories, fantasy, and sci-fi, while hubby and I restructure our family business. We have a jazz club with an espresso machine from the 1960s that makes some of the best espressos around. Most of the coffee shops have shut down, ZINC cafĂ© would be an outpost for our neighborhood for a coffee to go on walks through the Village. One person at a time, with a glass partition. A place where the elderly, or those in need, could pick up a few items such as toilet paper, canned foods, help, etc.

While the city becomes a little quieter, and we wait for Federal Aid, after multiple requests from our mayor and governor, to the treasonous monstrosity who co-opted the White House-- with the help of Putin, and Republican traitors (We’ll never forget who you are. That’s for another post.)  It good that evictions in New York are on hold; I’m sure few have any savings. This is America, we live from one paycheck to the next, many without health insurance. A perfect storm for the narcissistic POTUS in the White House, to delay his response to Covid-19, thus sacrificing many Americans, not only the immune-compromised, and the elderly, so that he wouldn’t look bad? And his buddies could profit off the vaccine. Stalling his response, while South Korea CONQUERED!  *Shaking fist.*

The USA learned of COVID 19, the same time as South Korea. But the inept POTUS called the virus a hoax. This caused a great deal of trouble for my family because my younger brother said it was a hoax, meanwhile he takes care of my diabetic mother who has kidney disease. I was furious! At this incompetent administration—but also my brother for believing their lies. I’ve beyond furious for the last 3 + years. I want Karma to be thorough.

I love New York, everyone pitches in to help one another. It’s not just NY, I know people usually want to do the right thing, look out for each other, step in. De Blasio said the same, New Yorker’s for the most part, have been compliant, orderly, wanting to help. We a democratic society. What affects one affects the other. 

May your pause, go quickly, it’ll be tough in our small NYC apartments, no doubt. I have two young adults, a husband, a cat and a dog in 800 sq. feet. I very grateful for my patio, walks in the sun, biking along the Hudson River Park—keeping 6-feet away from EVERYONE.  


Remember, It’s important for your health to get exercise and fresh air. And NYC’s trees are blooming!