Forging ahead with fictional endeavours: ~ Write a life on a page and hurry not to its grave; abhor not the coming age, for eternal is the next page. ~ Read what you will, I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I do writing.

Posts tagged ‘Family’



So much for a day off!  It somehow evolved into a week. Anyway, this one is for Visdare; I think it shows that a week only made me a little rusty.  I’m going to have to think about getting a posting schedule going – with post scheduled in advanced so I can take weeks off but keep this thing active.

“Is the cave safe?” The woman asked as she shushed her child; her spear aimed into the dark opening. Their leader nudged the pile of bones with his leather boot.

“Old scat and aged bones. Cave smells of dirt. Safe enough for the night.” The tribes-people nodded, and made camp; weary and starved from the winter trek south. Soon enough she perched by a small fire watching their meagre hunt roast while the others searched for more in the cold-stripped landscape. The nomads remained unaware of the ancient being watching from the dark. Only the mother felt the prickling of her neck, stealing suspicious glances into the cave. When she spotted the eyes reflecting firelight an unspoken agreement was forged: Safety for the child.




Copyright to Erin Leary

Friday Fictioneer post. 🙂

“There’s Mushrooms in the soup. I’ve disguised a few in the salad, so No picking them out. I’m talking to you, Jerome. We have mushroom and chicken pie for mains. There’s even some left over for tomorrow to have lightly fried with bacon and eggs.”

Nate furrowed his brow. There had been no mushrooms in the shopping.

“Mum, where did you get the mushrooms?”

“They were growing wild behind the barn.” Nate dropped his fork. This would be fun to watch but he decided to move his farm further away from sight.

Leap of Faith Part 2


Sunday Photo Fiction entry.  Part One is here.

Helga boxed Elendra’s possessions; face a frozen mask. Despite summer drafts; Helga was entombed in winter drifts. Her hand fell on Elendra’s ‘hidden’ diary. Bewitched by it’s siren call, she flipped through the last entries.


Mary wants to teach me. She says the visions and the voices are gifts. I tried to go to Mary, but the Cops forced me home. The locks are back but you’re acting too ‘normal’. What are you planning…


Meals taste funny today. Eric came for dinner; said it tasted fine. His probably was. Mary’s been quiet today. I need to go, can’t sit still. Eric has been soothing. Offered to take me somewhere tomorrow.  You looked relieved…


Mum, I’m going to live with Mary. I’m sorry you’ve suffered. Please tell Eric not to blame himself. You can have that ‘normal’ life. I’ll be free to live.

Helga dropped the diary. Tears streamed as her frozen mask melted. As though snow melted, buds of emotion grew once more.



Here’s one for Monday’s finish the story.   I’m afraid I bent the rules a little today.  The original starting line is – “Little did they know when the photographer took their picture that they would find themselves trapped in a painting.”  I couldn’t keep the original wording and have it suit my piece.

Little did the victims know that when the photographer took their picture they would find themselves trapped forever in a 2-dimensional prison. They were the lucky ones.

Decades later and Professor Klein was still cleaning up after the serial killer Thomas ‘The evaporator’ Cline. His estranged grandson had earnt the moniker for the odd fashion in which he had made is victims ‘disappear’ – often from busy streets; without fuss or chaos. Thomas’s methods were sociopathic; he would send strange ransom demands along-side increasingly larger sections of the body to his victim’s families. No matter how his damned demands were met the lost souls never returned. The sadistic killer was eventually tracked down via postal routes but the method in which he made people vanish was never officially discovered. That knowledge belonged to the eccentric Prof. Klein alone. Once he finished freeing the poor souls from their photographic prison he would burn all his research, along with the cursed Kapture Kern* prototype and take the bitter secret to his impending grave.

*Kern is a camera of German design from the 1920’s



Post take two today.  Hopefully this one has less errors in it.  It certainly flowed more smoothly in the writing process.  The lava falls photo prompt has been borrowed from Red Lettering and the cozy looking reading spot photo prompt has been borrowed from Picture It and Write.  I think this combo worked rather well. 🙂

Claudia raced over the bridge. Her axe cleaved through foes. The place was dangerous; not just because of the horde blocking her path. The bridge was surrounded by lava torrents. Avoiding the frequent splashes added an edge to her movements. Sulphurous fumes so thick the mask could not filter it. Claudia needed the crystal. Her ruby objective winked at her from the dais. Claudia dispatched the last of the warriors, sprinted, and leapt. As her hand closed around the crystal, she was dragged towards consciousness. The lethargy of the dream slowly left. It had been so real. Sulphur haunted her nostrils. She swore she could still feel the heat of the lava on her skin.


Wait? Heat…? Claudia bolted forward, now wide awake. She had knocked over her tea light! Grandmother’s hand-knitted blanket was now a happy little blaze. “’Elp!” Claudia whipped the blanket off, lurched up, and doused it with her coffee. Great, ruined a family heirloom and an expensive rug.

Random fact: Particularly vivid sensations during dreams are often caused by bodily awareness.  Classic example is a child dreaming of going to the toilet, feeling the bladder relieve itself while dreaming and then waking up to discover they have, indeed, wet the bed.

They finally got me: my seven deadly sins -_-

Thanks Angela, you’ve nominated me for the ‘One Lovely Blog Award’ – WordPress more fun equivalent of a facebook chain game (Which I Refuse to participate in on principle). When I first saw this floating around I thought What The Hell? I was convinced, until I saw it in action, that it was actual award!  But now that I’ve been nominated I am now obligated to share 7 interesting facts about myself.  I was hoping to avoid this because 7? Seriously, 7? 7 is a curse! (Besides, I have a million and one tales to tell, though they are not all true. 😉 )

My seven deadly sins: ~

1) I have a BA(hons) BUT I never graduated high school. 😉  I had a lot of misdiagnosed health problems when growing up (some of which I realised on my degree course were Stress and Anxiety related) so after 13 years of age my time actually at school become less and less (Which my parents quickly took advantage of by using me as a nanny for my youngest sibling). I am a self-proclaimed success story for alternative educational pathways.

2) I am related to Dawn Langley Pepita Simmons.  He started life as Gordon Langley Hall and she is my grandmother’s cousin. I have never met Dawn but would love too.  She managed to single-handedly alienate herself from that side of the family, but not, from how I heard it, for the gender change.  As Gordon she was known for being a bit ‘off with the faeries.’ In keeping, her biography has a lot of ‘tall tales’ or so the family claims.

3) Schizophrenia runs in my family on both sides. I had a fantastic time with my uncle growing up; talking to him when he was loopy was great, so many wonderful stories. I like to think that if he channeled that creativity properly he would be a best-seller.

4) I now have occasional use for a cane thanks to brain damage and the after-effects of the seizures.  However, my first response was not too be depressed. My friend backed away because she could see the evil glint in my eyes as I realised I now had a weapon I reasonable carry.

5) I the oldest of three but I’m the only official military brat.  Don’t let that throw you; we all have the same father! 😉

6) I’ve had a near death experience – but I was too young to remember it properly. I fell into a fish pond and nearly drowned when I was four.  All I have is this absolutely beautiful memory of staring up at the light through the murky waters with lily fronds and koi carp around.  It was a magical scene.

7) I don’t hide the fact that I’ve had brain surgery to remove a tumour. What I don’t often tell people (because people are often more squeamish than I) is that I was awake the entire time for my 6 hour open head surgery.  And, hell yes, I was scared – particularly when they were using an electric stimulator to map out the line between tumor and brain tissues.  They hit on specific point and I was damn near launched off the table by the resultant seizure.

Next up, my nominations.  I’ve tried to pick people who would actually interested in this one.  There are a few people who I know have been nominated but not joined in.  I also want to use it as a chance to call attention to good writers, if I can. But that list could go on forever! Now for my nominees – Tag, You’re it!!

My nominees *Evil smirk*

1. Ray of an Unsimplelife – fellow aussie who challenged my to try to offend him.

2. Jeremy of quite a few blogs. 🙂

3. Draliman

4. Priceless Joy

5. Kindredspirt23

6. Aileen

7. Suzanne (couldn’t resist using it. 🙂 )

8. Aimerboyz 

9. TanGental

10. The storyteller’s abode

11. lily pups

12. Ben

13. George

14. Rochelle

15. Kate

Hopefully, if don’t want to take a crack at it, you’ll won’t want to flame me! 🙂

Playing hard to get


Quick edit: This is my 100 post apparently! Woo!

Today photo and prompt has been borrowed from Adrian Lilly.  By chance I had been re-reading an older short story (Bring me a souvenir) of mine with plans to rewrite it, as a result I had a vivid image of my female lead’s reaction.  I just had to write it.  It had to be done.

Your main character is asked to go skiing by a new love interest. S/he doesn’t want to admit s/he’s never been skiing. What does s/he do?

Playing hard to get.

I realized my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth. Of all people to tell why on earth did I tell Cameron. It was my first week off since my return from England and, like a fool, I let him know. The biggest miscalculation? Giving him two weeks notice. If I were going to let my tongue slip, it should have been one my first day off. Then I wouldn’t be in this pickle now.

Most men would ask their girlfriends if they wanted to go on a ski trip first. Not Cameron, no. He just rolls up, drags me into the car and springs a surprise ski holiday on me. Not only did I not have time to pack, I had to beg Mum, as Cameron careened down the highway, to care for my animals for a week on short notice, and cancel reservations I made at a spa. Now I’m up to my ears in nagging about irresponsible travel – like I didn’t get an earful of That when I returned from my short pilgrimage. And to think she actually likes Cameron. As for Uncle Tom, he was totally going to get his ears boxed later. He was supposed to be keeping Cameron nicely contained way, way down in Sydney. What the hell is he up too, letting one of his managers fly the coop for week at the drop of a hat? Cameron, of course, was too absorbed in enjoying flying down highways to notice my grumbling and three hours in I gave up resisting and took a turn at the wheel.

I hadn’t been to the Blue Mountains before, so I can’t say I hated the idea. I also never actually got to see snow while I was in England so that was worth putting up with Cameron’s self-absorbed demands for a bit. When I finally saw the ski lodge, I was reminded that Cameron actually had reasonable taste. The facilities were modern, warm and comfortable. The scenery had been worth the 14 hours of driving and, well, Cameron’s hilarious reaction to the caravan park more then made up for my abduction. He was still not good at living the poor life. I vowed to take him camping one day; but first I had to perfect my filming technique so I could immortalize the chaos. However, I had to get through this ski trip first.

Cameron has always been surprisingly detailed orientated. I was mildly annoyed that he had brought clothes for me; they were to his taste not mine. However, I still don’t whether to be impressed or irritated that he had managed to outfit me with a complete compliment of cold weather clothing and ski gear with out checking my sizes. Afterwards I suspected Mum of helping him out; yet another reason to be irritated over her lecture on the drive over. But if that were the case, then Uncle Tom was in on it too. I did not want to touch that thought with a 10 foot pole. By the time Cameron had finished unpacking we had everything we need for the week, and them some. It was almost a shame, really, that he had missed one important detail: I’d never skied before in my life. He never asked, and I didn’t tell him.

This bring me to my current predicament, freezing my rear off at the top of a ski run. The idiot that I am, I still hadn’t told him. Cameron had actually been trying really hard to make this a romantic trip; if I so much as saw wine again I would puke. Cameron’s conceptions of a ‘normal’ holiday activity was also hopelessly skewed. I had tried to broach the subject the night before, but all that earnt me was 101 tales of his various schoolmates’ escapes and sinking feeling that I could never fit into his circle. A second attempt brought the realisation that to Cameron the notion of someone not learning to ski was alien, so I gave up. Now, here I am, stood on top of a steep looking ski run that Cameron joked was meant for beginners. There was a ski instructor behind us giving pointers so it may not have been the sarcasm I took his words for. I stared down the slope, the very idea of sweeping down that slide made icicles form in my underwear. And there Cameron was asking me what was wrong? Seriously? Isn’t obvious from the look of pure terror on my face?? This is where I snapped. Cameron received the full brunt of my shoulder as I pushed him down the slope, shouting after him “I can’t ski, you bastard.” He, however, was clearly an expert as he managed to right himself from the dangerous spin downwards into a graceful curve around the run. I gritted my teeth in annoyance, spun around and stomped with great difficulty to the instructor; who had been watching the whole incident with a raised eyebrow. I didn’t even have to explain, he simply started with the basics and by the time a forlorn-looking Cameron made his way back up via the ski lifts, I was shooting down on my own.

Halal Meat in Australia – What’s the big deal?

This one hits the mark and I’m honestly fed up with anti-Islamic propaganda I am subjected to on face book. That hide button is getting worn out.

The UnsimpleLife

There has been a lot of talk in Australia for a while now about Halal Certified meat. I for one have paid little to no attention to it. I was at the pub last Sunday afternoon and some hick was in there wearing a blatantly racist shirt, something something, Muslim, Halal… So, i decided that i would take a look into the ‘issue’ of Halal Certification in Australia.

To be honest, i didn’t really know what Halal was/is. So i decided to start with a definition. What makes meat Halal meat?

Every religion has its own characteristics and rules. Many faiths also have their own dietary or consumables restrictions. The word Halal is derived from the Arabic language and means ‘acceptable’ or ‘permissible’, relating to the source of the produce or ingredients, the cleanliness of premises, preparation methods and the final product. Conversely, non-Halal (Haram) means non-permissible or…

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This piece has been inspired by the photo prompt.  I have borrowed it from Picture it and Write. After 5 edits I finally got it down to only 5 words over the upper limit. I couldn’t actually bear to cut any more out. I got to the point where I felt I would lose impact rather then improve the story.  As always, please feel free to leave constructive criticism.

The Runaway

Abby huddled into the scavenged blanket. Wet from the rain; it was ice. Abby huffed into her palms, pleased with futile warmth. A discontented glance at her woollen hat informed Abby that tonight would be spent in the shelter. Abby daydreamed of hot showers and warm rooms as the pennies winked mockingly under street lights. Her ‘earnings’ were barely enough for a hot drink…

It was a wretched lifestyle. In a bitter realization Abby knew it wasn’t miserable. Misery was living with Her. Abby choose the freedom of uncertainty over oppressive manipulation; infrequent, random harassment over certain abuse. Unbidden, the memories stirred; smiling faces from before Her time taunting Abby. She imagined her brother, Callum, looming over her. Ah~ now I’m hallucinating. “I found you,” He said. Is he crying? Callum’s strong arms settled around her wet shoulders with her sense of reality. “Come home. Pa is worried.” He was so warm. Abby’s resolve snapped.

The lion and wolf.

This one got re-written so many times. But I feel it was worth the effort. I’m actually kind of proud of this one now. Ironically, the inspiration for this was from a rather sad dream I had. Seriously, almost woke up in tears!


Lion and wolf

Tip of an iceberg
Feelings unknown.
The lion roams far from home.

Lion, he spoilt the kit,
Left the fridge neat and labeled,
But forgot the food on the table.

The wolf howled,
Feelings flung to the moon,
For her, a bitter farewell.

Though the parting was long pass;
The lion roamed in the grass
And the wolf followed the moon,
Both believing their meeting inopportune.

The wolf watched an iceberg drift
lion’s feelings buried deep with in.
That which she would never know,
only descendants could ever show.

No longer bound
By love and label
The wolf left the kitchen table.

The kit, now a cub,
Grew wild and free,
Lion but a distant memory.

Ill-fated meeting
As planets aligned
Too different in nature
For paths to remained entwined.


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