May I: Thoughts

Walking into the kitchen, he watched as she nursed a hot cup of tea and looked out the window—choosing to sit beside her at the table. He gave her a look as if he were saying: I’d rather that you stayed.

“It was a private conversation.” Gillian took another sip of tea, clearly knowing what he was thinking. Cal looked rather uncomfortable, although he was trying not to show it. Her thoughts went back to her conversation with Emily, and she couldn’t help notice that her thoughts were reflecting his own.

Project X: Cookies and Toys

Still in her thoughts, Alexx couldn’t help but smile as she walked out of the hospital, and back to her car. She sighed in blissful happiness as slipped into the driver’s seat and drove away. This place would become her new home, and she already felt good about it.

So much that when she got home, she did a bit of unpacking—starting with the kitchen. Then after most everything was put away in cabinets, under the sink, Alexx started putting boxes by the door that she would take with her to the new office.

Project X: Welcome to California

When Alexx arrived at California Pacific Medical Center, it didn’t long for her to get directions to where to meet Dr. Elizabeth Wilson—the head of Pediatrics. From there, it took exactly one elevator ride and three floors up, until her heels were clicking on peppered tile.

Through the glass doors in front of her, there was a gift shop filled with an assortment of baby things in the window.  Down the hall and around the corner, led her to a waiting room filled with children, mothers, fathers and grandparents.

“Hi, how can I help you?” The receptionist inquired as Alexx approached the desk. The woman was probably in her mid forties; had dirty blond hair that bounced every time she moved around.

May I: Rockabye

Ria Torres walked into the computer lab, where her colleague, Eli Loker, had been piecing together some of the tape, and going through the video feed from the mall. “Hey, has Lightman come in this morning?”

“No.” He answered in an almost, automatic tone without looking back. With a few clicks of the keyboard, he perked up.

I'm Still Here: Goodbye to You

Sitting up, Don adjusted as he threw back the covers and stood on his feet. Stretching his arms gently his gaze caught the time and not to mention the tie sitting haphazardly on the dresser. Exhaling and throwing his fingers through his tossled hair, he realized that he had only managed to get his tie off before crashing to sleep.

Although he no longer felt exhausted and no longer like a ghost on wheels, Don realized his shirt and tie could use an ironing-and him, well he could use a shower and a cup of coffee for the day he was about to go through.

I'm Still Here: All the Things She Said

Tearing a piece of toilet paper off the roll Megan wiped her mouth and hastily threw it into the bowl before flushing and placed her hand against the wall as a ledger. Her first thought was that although the lasagna was delicious-it was no longer in her stomach. And maybe she shouldn't have had that second piece.

Opening the door to the bathroom, feet shuffling as she walked to the mirror-and found she did not look as terrible as she felt at the moment. Refraining from pushing back the razzled look on her expression she let her body lean up against the porcelain sink as she ran her hands through the water. Picking up the soap Megan lathered it in her hands before letting it fall back in the holder with a thud before rinsing. Then letting her fingers curl against the rounded sink, the water ran through the silence as she stole another quick glance in the mirror, only to find this time that all of color had drained from her cheeks.

I'm Still Here: Change Your Mind

"You've reached the voicemail of Don Eppes. Leave a message at the beep." There was a moment of silence and she exhaled in defeat before closing her phone. As much as the decision to leave was obvious, it could wait to be discussed tomorrow right? Megan placed her phone on the table beside her before pulling back the covers and slipping in.

She had been thinking about her decision quite often for the past few days. And she would have to make a trip back to the office anyway to retrieve a few things from her desk, and the chances of her sleeping tonight or tomorrow-like usual-was slim to none. And quite possibly she would run into Don.

I'm Still Here: May It Be

"Charles" Larry called out in greeting as he walked in the front door. "What made you figure to start redecorating?" Pulling the key from the lock, he looked around. Besides the TV that was on in the entertainment area, the living room area had clearly been redecorated.

Setting his bags down, he heard the swinging door open and there was a brief stopping shuffle. "Larry I didn't hear you come in. How was your trip to New York? Charlie pointed towards the front door and wiped the condensation from his hands onto the napkin.

I'm Still Here: A Little's Enough

And soon enough the sobs slowly but surely died over the running water. She exhaled, brought herself to a standing position and let the water run over her face one last time before her hand fell over the knob. The water that had blocked out her sobbing was left by the few drops that fell down from the shower head into the tub and went down the drain.

Scrunching her dripping hair she stepped out onto a towel that had been placed as a mat, and wrapped another towel around her body while grabbing a fresh towel to run through her hair. Immediately she felt exhausted as she sat down against the edge of the tub.

I'm Still Here: Lifeline

By the time Megan had returned back to the hotel, her mind was on the proposal that she had just accepted. Her fingers touched the edge of her lips where his lips had met hers, and she sat on the edge of the bed before pulling the pillow up against the wall and leaning against it for a moment before standing up again and walking over to her purse.

Hand reaching into her coat pocket she pulled out her father's number before wondering what she was doing. Unfortunately she was taken right to voicemail, but although she found her lips twitch in a smile she never thought that the sound of her father's voice could be so comforting, even if it was just a recording.

Writing to the Music

Source: denverpianolessons.info via Abby on Pinterest

Are you an author who has to have music playing as you write? A specific music list for the story that you’re typing out on the computer?

If you raised your hand, I’ve raised mine right along with you. I can only find myself writing in silence for so long before I have to have some distraction in the background—whether it be the TV, or music.

I'm Still Here: He Said, She Said

Pushing a hand through her hair, she trailed back to the entrance of the airport. Suddenly the early mornings and sleepless nights were catching up to her somehow. Not surprising that it was. Feeling quite partial to late nights at the office and taking a load of files home with her, that part felt absent as she had left it all behind when she had left LA.

When she had first started out she hadn't taken that many files home with her, but lately she had just been pushing it-knowing she was growing far worse in some ways than Don. Her thoughts before now had been tuned strategically to work, which caused more then one concern-far outgrowing the small voice in the back of her mind.

Her green eyes caught in the sunlight as she stood on the sidewalk waiting for a clearing. Walking across the crosswalk, keys in hand, she weaved betweeen parked cars until she had got to hers. With a sigh she gazed across the way toward the airport entrance before stepping in, the car slightly breezed with the shadowed parking lot.

UPDATE: Word Prompt "Pyromaniac"

"Thrilling Embers"


Originally written on Dec 10, 2011 @ 8:10 AM.


A:N/ Added a little a few paragraphs to this piece at the end, to make it feel more complete. 


Her body was silhouetted by the fire that raged angrily through yellow and orange flames—tugging through the air to sustain life. The girl sat near: perched on a log, staring hungrily into the flames.

Holding the pile of sticks in her hand, she acted like there was an interesting game playing out as her fingers uncurled from her outstretched hand. The sticks fell, one by one into the fire . . . leaving sparks that dissipate into the cooling air.

UPDATE: Word Prompt "Forget"

"All That Had Been Forgotten"

Originally posted on Tuesday; December 13th, 2011

It’s easy to mistake that she’s meeting someone there, as she sits on the bench alone. But as she raises her chin up--it reveals black mascara smeared beneath her eyes, and a streak down her cheek. The thin brown jacket and jeans that she’s wearing, does little to protect her from the rain and wind that’s whipping at her body.  

Her expression is one of torment, which holds the pain inside of the recent events in her life that she wishes to forget. Her shoes are deeply damaged—as if they’ve been worn year after year—having run in the fear that possesses her every day.  

May I: Drying Off

Cal was sitting on the couch, reading a book when he heard a door slam. Looking up from his place, he felt differently about that slam; recognized it as being the same sound Gillian produced when she was frustrated or worried.

So when he heard another slam—identical to the last—he had already placed his book on the coffee table and was looking out the window as she crossed the sidewalk and he was already at the door when she trailed up the stairs.

May I: A Few Things

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang again. This time, Corbin stood there with a bag and a pink blanket in hand. “You might need this.” Slipping the bag over her shoulder, he handed her the blanket. “Good luck.” And for a second time, he turned on his heels and disappeared.

“Thanks.” Closing the door, Sophie grabbed the blanket and tried to hold both the blanket and doll in her hand, but the blanket ended up falling to the ground. Hearing her grunt to pick it up, she toddled around with her hands full.

I'm Still Here: Sunrise Avenue

Please ignore all the grammar and spelling errors that might be in these chapters. I wrote this story about three years ago.

Everything was starting to sink in. Despite everything that went on this week, it had the perfect ending. And both knew it. They had both come out of this with a new meaning. His hand rested inside his pocket with his phone; he had never stopped thinking about his father since they had talked. She had a piece of paper with her father's phone number inside her jean pocket, the one her father had given her before they had departed to the airport.

If anything came sufficently out of their lives, both Megan and Larry knew their futures were just beginning. And although their own fears had come out and laid just inside the border, wounds were slowly beginning to heal.

I'm Still Here: The Middle

Both sat in silence, again.

This gave Megan a chance to wonder what path she was going down. There was one way that made the corner of her lips turn up in a smile as they drove to the airport. And with that she found that he was always there… waiting, always willing to be there for him. He had given her father a chance…and so had she.

I'm Still Here: Where Do You Run?

Pushing back in her seat, she pulled into the parking lot of the school, parked the car and turned off the engine. Unbuckling her seatbelt her voice was soft but unfaltering as she faced him. "I haven't. It takes time. And maybe in time I will, but we both have a lot of baggage to work through and several or a hundred ridges to go over."

That made him think even further, and something in the back of his mind longed to be heard. It wasn't the fact that he longed for her always to be there, because she understood him for who he was. It wasn't that they were alike, no, they were vastly different which made at times, very interesting discussions.

I'm Still Here: On the Ride

Setting his packed suitcase on the bed, he zipped it up. Megan pulled in the window curtain to let the soft sun in. Her hair had been curled in tight curls, flowing softly onto the back of her green shirt. He smiled tenderly watching her casually move around, adjusting the blinds so they were nicely pulled back before they took off.

He was still thinking about her. Everything seemed to slow as her graceful movements overtook him. So much could happen within a day, and he was leaving without her. He had to just remind himself that she would be back tomorrow. And as if she had read his thoughts her shoulders fell in satisfaction. Turning around to face him, pieces of golden curls fell to the side, gracing her beauty.