Flash Fiction Friday # 12

This is sort of a two parter. Part one can be found over here.

(just to be on the safe side)

How it Began; Part 2

(c) 2013 Necia Phoenix

The cave stank of fear and desperation. Greyson stopped just inside the entry to gain control of his stomach, and let his night vision adjust. Seeing in the dim light, while a blessing in the mountains, was a curse in the dank tunnel. There were things he didn’t want to see. Remains of other victims lay by the doors of their cells. They were far too late to save them. Dmitri, hadn’t been willing to come inside, now that he was there, Grey couldn’t blame him.

“Come on, boy, she’d be down this way.” Stilgar’s voice broke through his thoughts. Grey nodded.

“He said four or five cells.” Habcore said. “There’s a lot more here than four or five.”

“Aye.” Toura looked ill.

“Lothos is crazy.” Grey said. A whimper drifted from the depths of the tunnel.

“Someone is down there.” Stilgar said softly.

“Dragonmaster, she might know him,” Fiore said, stepping over. “But I’m female, and it was a male that did this to her.”

Stilgar looked back and forth between them and nodded. “Go with her Grey, she may recognize your voice.”

Fiore took the furs from him, and he followed her down the cold tunnel.

She was huddled in a corner, her pale skin covered in dark bruises, her only covering was her pale hair around her. She looked towards them fearfully, cringing.

“Open this door Grey.” Fiore whispered.  She turned her attention to the woman, her voice soft. “My lady? We’re here to get you out, Lady Aunusha sent us.”

Grey nodded, gripping the bars, pulling on the dragon-strength and anger. No one had ever looked at him in such fear. He stepped back, tearing the door from the frame set in the stone, and resisted the urge to throw it, setting it to one side. Fiore crouched beside the woman, draping the fur over her slim form. The woman kept looking towards Grey with a frown.

“Do you remember Greyson?” Fiore asked. The woman’s lower lip trembled.

She looked at Fiore. “The Dragonmaster’s son.”

“Yes. And the Dragonmaster is playing lookout. We’ll take you where it’s safe.” Fiore pushed a strand of hair from the woman’s face.

“He’ll find me.” She whispered. “He said he’ll find me if I try to leave.”

“No, we won’t let that happen.” Grey said, trying to keep his voice calm.

“You can’t stop him.”

“We got here, didn’t we?” Greyson asked. He met her eyes. “Trust us. We won’t let him find you.”

She stilled, her eyes flickering from a pale blue-green, to the blank Spirit state. She nodded, looked up at Fiore and tried to stand, her body swaying. “Take me home.”


She whimpered once when Grey shifted, and Fiore secured her to the carry rig. It hung between his front legs, and would shelter her during the flight. He crouched, preparing to launch when Habcor roared a warning. Two large ice dragons approaching, fast.

Grey lurched into the air, trying to get used to the extra weight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of pale grey, diving from the clouds, slamming into one of the approaching dragons, pushing it into the other, with air-piercing roar. Then he was past them, following Stilgar and Fiore’s dark shapes through the clouds.


“Physically she’ll recover.” Lady Aunusha  said, stepping from the inner room where servants had taken the injured woman. “It’ll take time to see how and if her mind recovers.”

Grey, Fiore and Stilgar had stayed at the Oracle of the Spirit Elementals, the others returned to the Hollow. They watched the Lady as she paced, her hands clasped in front of her.

“What will the Grande Council do about Lothos? This is not the first time this has happened.” She looked at them. “Will there be any justice for them?”

Stilgar frowned. “Before we left, I requested an immediate Council, to discuss this and prior incidents. However, there is a chance Lothos could counter it, I did break multiple treaties…”

“You saved her life.” She whispered. “Are treaties more important?”

“In the eyes of some of the Council, yes. I took a risk that could cause war if Lothos feels so inclined. I felt it was worth taking, others won’t agree.”

“You are the Dragonmaster,” she glared. “You could order him,”

“To what? My authority extends only to my clan. The Ice Dragons have their own rules. We’ll do what we can. But even with the might of the Council behind us, I doubt anything can be done about him. One of his underlings, yes. Lothos is their leader, and that would mean removing him,”

“Which should be done!”

“You and I both agree with that! I don’t think the council will see it that way. The Ice Dragons are a bit unpredictable to begin with, remove their leader and we’d have a serious problem to our North, one the council won’t want to deal with.”

“I see. My thanks, again, Dragonmaster, for your help in this matter.” She turned and went back into the inner room without another word.

Fiore sighed. “One ally lost.”

“Two. I doubt Dmitri made it out unscathed.” Stilgar corrected her, glancing at Grey. “Well?”

“Is this what you do all day?”

“And jump off ledges. It scares the piss out of peasants.” Stilgar flashed a tired smile. “We’ve done all we can here, now to go let Megare know where we were.”

“You didn’t tell mother where we were going?” Grey stared at his father incredulous.

“Oh gods.” Fiore, pushed ahead of them. “This is going to be a loud one.”

“I may have left out a few details.” Stilgar said dryly.

“Mother would have wanted to come along.” Grey said.

“I’d rather spare her the nightmares.” Stilgar said. “I don’t think any of us are going to rest well knowing about that cave.”

“Or the ones we were too late for.”

Stilgar nodded, patting his shoulder. “Come on; let’s go face the angry dragoness.”


Word count came in at 998.

Other Flash Fics can be found over here

As this IS a Dragon/Elemental world snip I’ll go ahead and link over here to the other Dragon snips on the site, in chronological order.

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Friday Flash Fiction – Inside the Author’s Mind installment

So I’ve been slack on getting these written. That whole summer thing I mentioned a few weeks ago, yeah, that’s in full swing. ANYWAYS, here is another Inside the Author’s Mind installment. I giggled through this one and hope I’m not the only one who enjoys it. The last one is over here.


Where’d the Muse Go?

(c) 2013 Necia Phoenix

The Author stood at the doorway to Muse’s office and sighed. Empty. It was deafeningly empty. Author sighed again and went over to the desk, trying to decide what to do. She wanted to work on the next project. But she needed Muse to help her with it. And Muse, was very clearly not there. Author frowned, trying to remember the last time she’d seen or talked to her. Phone call. That’s right, there was a call about something. Author scowled at the empty room, trying to remember what the call was about.

“IE sent her on vacation.” A voice said behind her.

Author turned.It was one of the Redshirts. He was bruised, bandaged from head to toe, and leaning on a cane. Author winched and forced a smile, trying to remember his name. Cole, that’s right, the one Muse asked her not to kill. Well, not in this story. Author smothered a cackle. There were always other stories to write, and situations to kill off Redshirts.

“I beg your pardon?” She tried to focus on what he’d said.

“IE sent her on vacation so you could finish the book without more shinys.” He shrugged.

“Did she say where?”

Cole shook his head and frowned. “Muse was really excited about it, though. Might want to ask IE, if you can get IE to tell you.” He turned and limped out of the room.

Author frowned. Muse hadn’t wanted him to be killed off. Perhaps, she’d spare him indefinitely. She glanced over the room sighed again and left.


IE; Internal Editor, also known as Number 1 and lately; the-damn-thing-that-won’t-shut-up, sat at the desk happily red penning the newly finished story. Author watched it for a moment, trying to gather herself. It looked like a child of two or three. Hair flopped over large eyes. Author had never assigned a gender to it. It simply was. And it had held her stalled on her latest project for years. It took being tied and trunked for Author to finally finish that project.

“Ok, IE, where’d you send her?” Author rested hands on hips. IE barely glanced her way, but smirked.

“Away. She’ll be gone a while. Long enough for you to work on the edits.”

Author screamed. She couldn’t help it. After all she’d just spent months plowing away at ONE story. She glared at IE, took a deep breath and screamed again. She wanted, no she craved something new, something different. Something…flashy, something shiny! IE stared at her with huge, overlarge eyes. It sat back in the chair and took a deep breath.

“I…I sent her to Daydream Paradise Beach.” It whispered. “On the Train of Thought.”

Author stared, aware that other story bits were peeking around the corner of the door to stare, wide eyed, into her office. Plot elements, Story Arcs, a couple redshirts, a main character and lined up in the doorway, noses twitching, were an assortment of plotbunnies. Author glared at them and they scattered faster than she’d seen them scatter before. She made a quiet note of it, for the next time the plots began to plod along. They could move faster, she’d seen them do it!

“I see.” Author shuffled through the paperwork on her desk looking for her phone. “You sent my Muse to a beach.” She found the phone, flipping it open and tapped in the number to the Train of Thought Vacation Offices.

“Well, I figured you needed some peace and,”

“You send a Muse to a tropical resort.” Author pinned a dark look at IE as the phone rang. “How in the hell are we going to cover the shipping costs for bringing back all her plotbunnies?”

IE looked horrified. “I hadn’t thought of that.” It whispered.

Author didn’t think it had. Muse had a very prolific imagination. The last time she went on vacation…when she returned Author had to hire contractors to widen the waiting room. Vacations were dangerous things in the hands of a Muse. She was about to remind IE of that when the operator picked up.

“Hi, yes, I need to book a single round trip to Daydream Paradise Beach. Yes of course! Immediately!” Author listened, scowled and pulled out her wallet. She glared at IE. “You owe me, BIG time for this one!”

IE ducked it’s head down, but said nothing. Author ignored it, turned and headed to her room to pack. She’d take her bathing suit, might as well catch some sun while looking for Muse. And a few extra plotbunny cages. Just in case.


Here is  the Forward Motion Flash Friday blog which lists other folks who do Flash Friday posts. 🙂


If you’d like to see other installments of the Inside the Author’s Mind series, they are available on Smashwords where, for the month of July, they’re free.*
Linked below; The coupon code is SSW50

The Shiny – With coupon is free
Redshirts – With coupon is free
Muse Interrupted – With coupon is free

Other Titles

The Magic Maker – With coupon is 50% off; $1.50
Playing For The Dead – With coupon is free
Help Never Came – With coupon is 50% off; $1.75
River Of Souls – With coupon is free

*They’re also available over at B&N, Amazon and Kobo, but they’re not free-with-coupon over there right now.

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TGIF? No, for me it’s Monday

My hubs only has one day off a week That was yesterday. So as everyone else is moving towards the weekend we’re just starting our new workweek. Blarg. That sums it up pretty well. So. Writing.

I’m currently (as in, in the other window) working on the final two installments of Inside The Author’s Mind, they’re going to be small, they average under 1k, so if I can get them done they’ll be up for Flash Fiction friday later today and next friday *crossing fingers*. Once those are done I’m hoping to compile them into a collection to have up in Sept. If they’re large enough I’ll see about putting together print versions. It may take some doing though, for the ISPNs. I’m considering a kickstarter or something like that to fund getting the ISPN numbers from Bowker. Or just tossing a donate button at the bottom of the page. We shall see.

If anyone has been paying attention to the bars on the **checks other tab** right side of the page, I’ve been puttering away at the first Zander book. I’m about 1/4 of the way through it and I think it’s coming along fairly well. I was thinking over the series itself and it struck me that there are going to be 4, possibly 5, in the whole series. The first three are the Northern Empire books and the last one(two) would be the grande finale/wrap up of that situation. So. 5 in the Zander series. **twitches**

I do need to come up with new titles for them…

I AM still working on getting E1 edited so I can serialize it. Which I’m still planning on doing. What the heck, right? It may be September (ahhh that month again) before I start serializing it. Or maye OCt. Not sure if I can swing it in Aug though. I may do a teaser chapter to see what people think.

Ok, in other pubbing news, Smashwords is holding a coupon special for the month of July. I’ve signed up all my titles for it. Linked below; The coupon code is SSW50

The Shiny – With coupon is free
Redshirts – With coupon is free
Muse Interrupted – With coupon is free
The Magic Maker – With coupon is 50% off; $1.50
Playing For The Dead – With coupon is free
Help Never Came – With coupon is 50% off; $1.75
River Of Souls – With coupon is free

In Aug I’m going to be compiling them into collections for a September release, and possibly pulling down the single titles. I’m undecided on this atm. We’ll see. I’m also working on some new covers (in my *haha* spare time)  and plan on going through the current titles for a typo hunt. Just a typo hunt/grammar fix, no story changes.

Anyways, time to wrap this up and finish the flash fiction stuff. Have a great weekend folks!

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Late Flash Fiction

It’s late. **hangs head** I’m sorry. This is a concept scene for an UF story-line which has never been much more than an idea.


Divine Conspiracy
(c) 2013 Necia Phoenix

            It was, I decided, a bad idea to go check out the new nightclub in the Beville district. Unfortunately, I came to this conclusion AFTER I had spent several hours listening to an unknown band whose singer kept searching for, and failing to find, the right note. Their songs seemed to be about love gone bad, and ending in violent acts of necrophilia. Not exactly my cup of tea.

I was preparing to leave when the empty chair at my table was filled by a tall, heavyset blond bombshell called Big Bertha by the locals. Her real name was Theresa. She was a crack shot and if I had my choice, I’d have her at my back in a tight spot. She smiled at me and set down a thin business card.

“Having fun?” She leaned closer so I’d hear her over the whine of cheap speakers.

“Not really.”

She grinned. She knew why I wasn’t enjoying myself.

“Just give ’em a few minutes, they’re wrapping up.” She nodded towards the stage, and we both winced when the singer hit a wrong note.

“They can’t be why this club is the buzz…”

“Nope. These guys are just opening act.”

“Opening?” I stared at the horrid mish mash of clashing fabrics and angry colors of hair and makeup. They’d been on stage since before I’d arrived. “I thought the opening acts were supposed to be short.”

“They lost track of time. The real act is Divine Conspiracy.” She leaned back in her chair.

“Never heard of ’em.”

“You have not lived then. Trust me, you hear them and you’ll always compare every other  singer to her. They are that good. They will move you to your soul.”

I wasn’t sure I liked Theresa’s grin. I resisted looking back over my shoulder for the guy with the poker aiming for my throat. Theresa wouldn’t do me like that. At least, I hoped she wouldn’t. The band onstage finished and silence, oh that blessed beast, rang for several min as the band hustled their stuff offstage. With the lights dimmed down, it looked like a much classier place than the dingy, hole in the wall nightclub that changed names every four or five months. I heard whispers in the dark, and rustling movements as the waitresses in their slinky outfits made their way around the tables.

A single light shone down on the stage, illuminating a pale female face with blood red, luscious looking lips. The song began and my heart squeezed. There was some old time magic in the music, in her voice. It played along my spine, whispering in my fingertips. I could almost see it. The lead singer was not a exactly a great beauty, over-thin to the point of emaciated, her features too sharp, eyes wide and unnatural looking. Her voice was haunting, alluring, and it  carried through the room. I realized then, she had no microphone. I suspected she didn’t need one. I forgot to breathe until Theresa kicked my shin under the table.

“I told you.” She whispered.

I nodded, unable to speak. The words were lost in a haze of impressions, and the songs went from soft and slow, too fast and heavy, the kind of music you’d head-bang too. She got into it as much as her band did, her long dark hair flying as she, her crew, and the audience head banged merrily. My own neck ached to watch it. My years of head-banging were long over. How they managed to keep hair from catching on fire, I didn’t know.

Old time magic, it had to be. The lead singer somehow pulled off elegant and head banger and when the set was over the applause was thunderous. She smiled at the crowd, a beautiful lifting smile. She loved what she did. And the crowd loved her for it. There were shouts for more and the lead singer looked towards my table. Theresa gave a thumbs up, and the band launched into a slower song. Theresa turned back to me and tapped the card. “They’ve got old world connections I thought you’d might be interested in.”

I lifted the card and eyed Theresa. “You think this is a case for VHI*? I’m not with them anymore.”

Theresa laughed at me. “You’re a bad liar, Paul. You, and VHI, are like peanut butter and jelly. Can’t have one without the other. You call Draven, or maybe Jason, have em come down and take a listen.” Theresa stood and patted my shoulder. “And enjoy the music. It’s like a fine wine.”

I nodded, tucked the card into my pocket and leaned back in my chair. The music ended, the singer and band bowed as one. I sat up a bit as the singer stepped from the stage and walked right over to my table. She set something on the table, smiled brightly, turned and walked away, her perfume, light and flowery, lingering in the air in her wake.

It was a cd case with a hand-written insert. Divine Conspiracy written in a neat script and beneath it a list of songs.  Home recorded, probably in someone’s basement. But I was excited. I glanced up to thank her, but the stage was empty, the singer gone. I swallowed my disappointment, and looked for Theresa. I didn’t see her anywhere. She was probably backstage. I stood, laid a generous tip down for my waitress, and nodded to the bartender as I left, cd in hand.

I drove home, listening to that magic. Theresa was right. They moved my soul. I reluctantly took the cd out and turned off the truck. I could hear my house phone ringing inside. It was probably Draven needing something. Again. I sighed, and tucked the cd case into the inner pocket of my trench-coat. The music, the magic, still swirled in my head. Time to make plans.




Hope yall enjoyed it.

 oops forgot to explain that VHI stands for Vampire Hunter’s Inc. It’s a tie in scene to my current 2 Year Novel project over on Forward Motion.

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Flash Fiction – The Shell

Ok this is weird. Just really…. yeah


The Shell
(c)2013 Necia Phoenix

She watches.

They’re gathered again, laughing, visiting. The bar-b-q is fired up and the beer and wine coolers are being handed out. The children run around, dirty, chalk covered, their laughter echoing through the canyons of apartments and houses. The little brown and black dog, the one with the missing eye and high pitched yap, is running around announcing to the world that he is there. They forgot about her again.

She comes out, book in hand. No one notices her. Not at first. She isn’t like them. She’s too quiet. Too withdrawn. She finds a spot, hiding in plain sight. Half hoping someone, anyone will come over and say hello. Acknowledge that they see her. Acknowledge that someone cares.

The bar-b-q goes on. The flurry of activity around her makes her heart beat faster, makes her palms sweaty. Too many bodies, too many voices. Too much noise.

Someone sees her, says hello. She looks up startled, starts to say hello back but the person flutters away before she can, a good deed done. After all they talked to her. She looks around, hopeful. But everyone is busy. Busy with their own dramas. She sighs, closes her book and goes back to her room. It’s not worth it. No one notices she’s gone.


She waits.

Once upon a time, the stories always start. And they end with the magical …and they lived happily ever after. But there is no ever after. No knight in shining armor to rescue her from mediocrocy. She works. Goes to school. Hopes to find someone, something that sees beyond the shell.

She wants someone to crack it. Pull it apart. Lay out the being, the rainbow that she is for all the world to see. But everyone else is waiting around, hoping for the same thing. No one bothers.

No one cares.

She begins to plan. To change. And is met with stiff resistance. She must conform to their way of doing things, even if they never bother to show they care.


She decides.

She is leaving. Going to another place, a fresh start, a fresh group of people. They’re angry. She’s abandoning them. She shrugs. They gave her no reason to stay. But they won’t hear that. They only hear what they want to hear.

She packs her things amidst howls of outrage and dismay. The bus leaves at 9pm. She promises to visit. Hugs them. Pets the damn dog, and walks towards the bus depot. She knows, and they know, she’s never coming back.


She discovers.

It is busy, day and night. The city lights, the cars, the parties, the life is almost more than she can bear. She finds places she can go, to be alone. Places she can hide from the busy and watch. And she finds she is not alone. There are others in her hiding place. Like-minded people. Rainbows in shells locked tight against society.

They are all hesitant at first. No one has bothered to care. They were not the cheerleaders. The jocks. The band members. They were the ones in the shadows, forgotten until someone needed tutoring, or a book. They are the ones society mocks.

They become family. Closer than blood can ever bring them. They know, they understand what it is like to be forgotten by the ones they want most to notice them. The shells begin to crack in big chunks.


She lives.

There were no letters from home. Though she sent her own. There were no phone calls, unless she made them. She got tired of not hearing back. Of not knowing. She decided to stop, see what would happen. And for a time she wondered if they would pick up the slack. But she was living. She was noticed by her new family. The ones who loved her and cared for her. She brushed aside, hid the hurt of rejection by her own flesh and blood.

She had a life to live.

And she did.


She remembers.

Someone asked her if she would ever go back.

No. She shakes her head. There is nothing to go back too.

They didn’t bother to find her. And she wasn’t interested in them.

She remembers too keenly, hurts too deeply.


She watches.
How much time passed? She’s forgotten. But the television is playing out a drama. The stars were those she’d left behind. Had she stayed it would have been her on that screen. She is tempted to call, find out for herself but her partner tells her it isn’t worth it. He takes the remote, changes the channel. Let’s watch something else, something happy.

She sits, listening to the chatter from the television, not really seeing what was on. He touches her hand and she starts to cry. Her rainbow dims, her heart broken. He holds her, saying nothing. Later than night she pens a letter, the first in years. In it she tells all, everything she couldn’t say. But it is too late. She goes to the patio and burns it.

They hadn’t cared before. She doubted they would now. She chose to live. Staring up at the sky she sighs and smiles. Her rainbow brightens, the shell is gone.




I have to say this is perhaps the oddest thing I’ve written. And that’s saying a lot.


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Flash Fiction Friday

Holy crap I got one done!!!  😀  Eventually this will get packaged with The Shiny, Redshirts, and Muse Interrupted. This is a continuation of that mini-flash series;


Editor In Chains

©2013 Necia Phoenix

Author sat back in her chair staring at the stack of papers in front of her. Done! Finally! The project was done! She blinked rapidly, fighting a surge of tears. It was powerful, it was heartbreaking at times. It was DONE. She pushed away from the desk, still cluttered with research, notes, several decks of playing cards, and a half filled Sudoku chart. She looked around, frowning. She needed to tell someone.

“IE! Where are you?” IE, Internal Editor. The creature which both helped and hindered her writing. She frowned looking around. Where had it gotten to?

There was a muffled sound, from somewhere behind her. She blinked remembering the swift struggle and grinned.

“Oh I forgot about that.”

She made her way to a stack of plastic bins, gripped one of the handles and pulled it aside. Big blue bins full of books and possibly some plotbunnies. Author was a bit wary about going through the bins. Plotbunnies were frighteningly resilient. Even if years had gone by, give them air, a touch of water and they were as frisky and bouncy as when she’d stuffed them, squirming and fighting, into the bins. Behind the bins was a door. Padlocked, chained, with a couple of wooden beams nailed to the frame.

“You still in there IE?”

The muffled noise sounded louder but she still couldn’t quite make it out. IE would be mad. No, not mad furious. At least until she shoved the manuscript into its hands. Then it would do what it did best. Shred it. She suppressed a shudder. It had to be done, to get it ready for the grand sendoff, but still…

She picked up the crowbar hanging next to the door and began prying the beams from across the doorway. It took time, more time than she thought it should have. She fumbled for her keys to unlock the several padlocks. One dropped to the ground with a clatter, the chain made an odd swishing noise as it too dropping in a pile to the floor. She got to the final lock turned it and pulled the door open.

The trunk was sitting in the middle of a cold room, damp and lightless. It moved every now and then, the lid rattling as IE pushed it from inside.

“How you doing in there?”


“You shouldn’t be so angry, you deserved to be put in there.” Author said, kneeling down and fiddled with the combination lock.

“MMph? MMmmmPH!”

Author shook her head. How could someone so bound put so much meaning into mmmph?


“Oh stop it.” Author muttered, letting the first padlock drop. The lid rattled violently. “You weren’t letting me finish my book, you know. Every little thing, every little word, you wanted me to agonize over it. Our cast isn’t going to live that long, you know. I had two redshirts die of old age waiting for you to make up your mind about that one scene. Old age!” She opened the lid, looking down at the bound and gagged IE who was glaring daggers out of its eyes. “Who has ever heard of a Redshirt dying of old age? I had to finish it.”

“Mmmph. Mmph.”

“Of course it’s not perfect, that’s what editing is for. But I’ll never be able to edit it if you don’t shut up and let me finish it!” She untied IE and helped it out of the trunk. It tore off the gag and glared.

“It probably sucks, you know. It’ll be riddled with problems, plot-holes and…”

“Well now that it is done you can go over it and red-pen it.” She stood up and motioned the open door. “But I have other projects to work on, you are going to cooperate this time. You got that?”

IE glared at her, not saying anything.

“Okay. You want to get back into the box?” Author lifted up the gag. “I can put you back.”


“Then agree.” Author crouched, eye to eye with IE. “I am the boss. It is MY story and you are a figment of my imagination. Either behave or you’ll be boxed and replaced.” She pointed to the bricked up wall in the back of the room. “Like that one was.”

IE’s nose flared but it nodded. “Fine.”

Author handed IE the red crayon. “The manuscript is sitting on the desk, all ready for your inspection.”

IE nodded, toddled out of the room, muttering under its breath. Author heard a muffled whimper behind her and glanced towards the bricked up door. She shrugged, turned, and walked from the room. That one wouldn’t let her get beyond the opening sentence. And it wouldn’t listen when she told it to knock it off.

She took a deep breath, it was time to find Muse. Author frowned. Muse had been awfully quiet. Her office would be packed to the brim with plotbunnies.

She closed the door, glanced towards the desk, and IE who was hunched over with the manuscript. She grinned. IE would be busy for a bit, she could start the selection process for the next project. She chuckled under her breath. Chaining the Internal Editor up while finishing the project had been the best idea she’d ever had. Now to talk with Muse about the next manuscript! She skipped down the hallway towards Muse’s station, dodging a couple dark blue plotbunnies. Yes, life was certainly looking up!



I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 😀

For other Flash Fiction pieces you can check out my buddy S.E. Batt’s offering over here. Or Lazette Gifford’s piece over here. And for a list of participants click over here.

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The value of silly

Simon Batt, a fellow self pubber and dear friend of mine, has a tendency to come up with the most absurd, the silliest and yet brilliant ideas for stories. I find myself looking forward to chatting with him, because we (myself and other chatters) never know exactly what will get him going. His outlook is so refreshing in this age of dark, morbid negativity.

You might want to check out some of his titles, (no he doesn’t know I’m telling you all this :D) and for a taste of his writing style check out his Flash Fiction Friday.

Smiling is good, absurdity is fun. It’s refreshing. And in honor of Absurd Sat, I present

Googly Eye Art!!!

2013-03-16 10.29.06


Have a wonderfully absurd Saturday!!!

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Flash Fiction

Ok, so I missed it friday, sorry. Better late than never, right?  Enjoy!


Waking The Beast

©2012 Necia Phoenix

The voices echoed through the cave system, bouncing through the unseen cracks in the rocks. Laughter, giggling, the sound of happy youth exploring the unknown. He opened his eyes, listening to the unfamiliar sounds. Closer, the voices came closer.

He stretched his lean, scaled body, preparing himself to go and investigate.  He was a Forgotten. A leftover from a time of darkness, when magic and religious fervor ruled the day. He could see in the darkness, and propelled himself through the narrow forgotten passages, investigating the noise.

Clawed hands gripped the sides of the caves. He squinted in sudden bright light. He was still far below the ground, where had the light come from? He blinked back tears of pain, waiting for his vision to clear.  Standing in the old sacrificial cave were two, things. Soft. They looked soft. Tasty.

On the ground behind them, in the center of the ceremonial cave was a ring of stones. For a fire, no doubt. Beyond it, a safe distance away, two odd mats lay side by side in colors brighter than any he’d ever seen, save the setting sun. Behind them were two bags, traveling packs perhaps?

His attention was brought back to the two things as they inspected the paintings on the walls. They held a tube which streamed a pure white light. And they were using it to direct light all over the inside of the chamber. One turned to the other, shining the tube in the face.


They were humans!

He fought the rage, the growl. He didn’t want them to know he was there, not yet, not till he understood why they came to this sacred place. The struggle was mighty. Their kind had destroyed his home. Destroyed many of his kind. Leaving him and the other survivors in hiding. The hate festering like an open wound. He crept behind a large boulder, pulling his body into a tight coil. Unless they actually touched him, they would see nothing but a pile of rocks. He waited, watching.

They took little time, passing within inches of him. Their words had no meaning, sounds, with nothing to tie him to what they spoke of. Without another look around they returned to the fire-ring and lit the fire, turning off the tube-lights. He watched them slide into the mats. Their voices drowsy, then, nothing.

He uncoiled, moving towards them. Humans. Hate melted into curiosity. These were not the same as those long ago. He crouched staring at their faces, the firelight casting his shadow against the far wall. What were the humans of now like? Had they changed? He looked at the travel bags and a smile crossed his scaly face. He crawled along the edges of the firelight, willing himself smaller, snakelike. He hesitated, glancing around the cave. At the edge of the firelight, he saw eyes watching him, questioning him. He touched the nearest bag and the assembled nodded.

It was time.

He slid into the bag, digging through clothes, supplies and other things he wasn’t sure of. He found an inner pocket and slid into it, cutting a small hole in the side of the bag to see out. He could see the fire, one of the sleeping bags. The others had disappeared back into the rocks, the crevices the humans could never get through.

He waited.

When they woke, they broke up the camp with practiced ease. He did tense when one lifted the bag and he got a confusing blur of walls, ground and ceiling. Then they were making their way through the twisting tunnels, and he saw, through the hole, his fellows, his kin, following at a distance. He waved them back then pulled the hole tight, curling up in a little ball and closing his eyes. He was going into the world again. Yes.

It was time.



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Flash Fiction Friday – Not.

So I had this up for hours, half wrote a flash fiction and got bogged down by sick kids and a brain that was most disobedient. Darn the thing I kept falling asleep! I just read over the flash fic piece and I have no idea where the heck I was going with it. I’m sorry but I think I have to pass, again, on FFF. OF course it IS a moot point as it is now Saturday.

Anyways, I have been thinking and planning and mostly silent in the blogosphere, mainly because there is so much going on I am hesitant to go into too many details.

Today is the first of December and I think my plan for today is simply get my workout done and get another chapter of Crossroads written. I might even get a snip up here. I stress the might.

As for my december goals; Finish crossroads. That’s it.


Have a great Sat.

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Flash Fiction Friday

Ok, so today is Flash Fiction Friday, I do have an offering for you all. Firstly, here is a link to the other Forward Motion writers’ blogs, who are participating, here http://fmwriters.com/flash.html. Now, this is actually the followup of the first flash fiction I wrote. #1 is over here. I didn’t realize when I wrote that one, that Rebecca was going to have any more to her story. I don’t know if there will be any more after this.

Flash Fiction Friday

Copyright 2012© Necia Phoenix

Holiday shopping, the deafening din of people buying things for relatives they only saw once a year, was giving me a horrendous headache. I leaned heavily against the crutches, wishing I’d gone ahead and taken the motorized chair. My sister cast worried looks my way, pushing the cart with our purchases through the holiday crowd.

“Are you sure you don’t need to sit down?” She asked. I forced a smile, I hurt, but we were so close to being done I wanted to finish and go home. Curl up on my sofa with the latest book, maybe sip some hot tea.

“Let’s get this done.” I glanced towards the front of the store. The lines stretched into the clothing display. I sighed.

“You go sit in the deli, and order us some drinks.” Susan handed me a twenty and made a shooing motion.


“Give me your list, you only have two more things, I’ll grab them, you get off your feet.” She made a shooing motion at me. I nodded, stuffing the twenty into my pocket. “I want a cola!”

“Okay.” I turned slowly, carefully maneuvering around a few children, and a couple talking in loud and angry voices. The way seemed far longer than it looked. I was almost to the deli when the crutch slipped and felt myself falling, too stiff to catch myself. An arm slipped around my waist, holding me up and I found myself looking up at an oddly familiar man. His dark eyes concerned. The clatter of the crutch seemed far away as he helped me upright and then fetched it.

“Are you all right?” He asked. His voice was deep and familiar. For a moment I heard sirens, smelled gasoline.

“I’m just off balance.” I took the crutch, noticed my hands shaking. I finished adjusting the right spot for the crutch and he came around to my other side, offering me his arm. I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m fine, really. I’m going right over there.” I pointed to the ugly orange booths of the deli.

“Take my arm, Rebecca, and don’t argue with me.”  His voice was very low, almost a whisper.

I stared at him, swallowed, and did as he instructed. I was tempted to swat him with the crutch but I was afraid I’d fall again, my balance was shot. The silence was awkward and I hobbled to the booth. He helped me into the seat, and headed up to the counter. I wanted to protest, but wasn’t fast enough. He came back, set the three cups on the table, and slid into the booth across from me.

“You,” I stared at him. The words stuck, frozen in my throat. It was crazy, unreal. He was far too good looking. He would fit well on the cover of one of the books I had waiting for me at home.

“I called 911.” He said, sipping at his drink. “Are you healing well?”

I leaned back in my seat. This was the wolf? My wolf? A whispered ‘You’re welcome’ echoed in my mind. “The doctors are pleased with my progress.” I said, haltingly unable to look away. He’d saved my life, twice. How did one talk to their rescuer? “What was that thing in the road?”

“Here is not the place to talk about that.” He said. He smiled. “Perhaps we can discuss it another time, in a less crowded place.”

“All right.” I forced myself to sip at my soda, looking towards the table, mind racing. What to say, the questions I had seemed silly to ask. Do you always turn into a wolf? Are there more of you? Stupid. The noise of the holiday shoppers began to seep into the calm. “Are you doing Christmas shopping too?” I was flailing inside, uncomfortable. He was watching me, intensely with those dark eyes.

He laughed, easy going. “My alpha sent us for some more plastic bandages.”

“Us? Bandages?”  Alpha? I bit my lip, holding back the questions. This was not the place to discuss it but I wanted to know. There was another world, within the one I lived in and I had a glimpse of it.

“My brother and I are on pup duty. The pups wanted special bandages.” He lifted up a blue plastic bag filled with several boxes inside, each featuring popular cartoon characters. He leaned forward. “We heal fast. Very fast, but they’re pups and love cartoons, so we thought we’d indulge them.”

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. The idea of little wolf pups with cartoon character bandages on them was too funny. He grinned, sipped at his soda and looked past me. He slid a small scrap of paper across the table.  “I have to go now. Be careful, Rebecca, especially at night.

He slid from the booth, took his cup and squeezed my shoulder. “Go slower on the turns.”

“I don’t plan on driving any time soon.” I said, looking up at him. The easy familiarity confused me. I didn’t know him, yet I was comfortable with the gentle hand on my shoulder. Anyone else I would swat their hand away.

“Don’t give it up, just because of this.” He said. He squeezed my shoulder again and strode away. When I turned I couldn’t see him, the crowd of shoppers too dense. I turned back, looking at the scrap of paper. A phone number was scrawled on it and underneath it, a note;

If you see one of those things again, or hear of one, do not hesitate to call me. Lucien

“Oh why did we decide to shop today?” Susan asked. She sank into the seat across from me and lifted the soda.

“To get it over and done with, so we can sit back and laugh at everyone else who waits till the last minute.” I tucked the paper into my wallet. I wasn’t ready to tell her about Lucien yet. She wouldn’t believe me anyways.

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Flash Fiction Friday #3

I have this space operaish idea and this piece of fiction is set on the ship Nausica.  Hope you enjoy it;

Flash Fiction Friday #3

© 2012 Necia Phoenix

“Catch it!” Amber screamed. She and Jake dove after the flash of bright green and pink that vanished behind the boxes in the hold. They moved boxes and bags, trying to be careful but not lose sight of the rare and expensive snake.

“Where’d it go?” Jake demanded after they’d cleared the corner. They stared at each other in horror. It was gone.

Amber looked around, heart pounding. “It’s got to be in here, somewhere.” Linz, the captain of the ship, was going to kill her. Slaughter her. No live cargo. That was the rule. And Amber broke the rule. For a snake. Linz hated snakes. Not even an exotic, bio-engineered snake that glowed under a black light would be allowed.

“She’s going to kill me.” Amber whispered.

“Lets not jump too conclusions. Lynz isn’t that bad.”

“Bullshit.” Amber whispered.

“Think. The doors are closed, we put the mesh over the vents, where else could it have gone?” Jake appeared to be about as panicked as she felt.

They’d rearranged the cargo hold in a panic, looking for the creature when they realized it got loose.

“We have to find it.” Amber whispered.

“I know.” Jake pulled a flat com unit and slid his finger across the screen. Lights flickered and he lifted it up, turning in a slow circle. “Huh.”


“No heat signature.”

“Oh no.”

“Check the crates, make sure it didn’t get into one, and..”

“Are you looking for something?” A deep voice asked. Amber cringed, glancing over her shoulder. Second in Command, Gabriel, stood just inside the door.

“Shit, get out of the doorway, let the doors close before it gets loose!” Even as Amber spoke, she saw the flash of green slide between Gabriel’s feet, out the hold door, and into the hallway beyond. Jake was moving all ready, swearing as he went.

“There it goes!”

“What the hell was that?” Gabriel eyed Amber.

“Gabe, my project,” she faltered. “We have to catch it before Linz does.” She pushed past him. Jake was halfway to the control room. He stopped at the doorway, looking back at Amber.

“Linz is downside for another hour.” Gabe leaned the wall, arms crossed. “If you find it before she gets back, I might not mention this in my report.”

Jake jabbed the control panel, sliding through the doorway before the door finished opening.

“You gonna help us look?” Amber asked Gabe.

He grinned at her. “Nope. It’s your project.”

“Jerk.” She muttered, and followed Jake inside.

“He’s an ass.” Jake whispered. They crouched, looking under the large command desk and sidebar table.

“”As long as he doesn’t tell Lynz, I don’t care. Where the hell did it go?”

Jake pulled the scanner again and searched. “Not here. Vents. Crap. Two uncovered vents here,” he pointed. “And here.”

“It could be anywhere in the ship.” Amber slowly stood, defeated.

Jake gritted his teeth and left the room. Amber followed him. What the hell was she going to do? She’d spent a pretty penny for that snake. Almost two whole paychecks. If Lynz found it…

“Can the computers do a full scan of the ship for heat sigs?” Jake asked Gabe.

“It can, but there might not be enough time to make the adjustments.” Gabe was already moving towards the bridge. Amber had to half run to keep up with him. Leigh and Kurt were both on duty when they entered the bridge.

“Kurt I need you to do a full heat signatures scan of the ship. Amber’s project got loose.” Gabe said going over to his station.

“What kind of project?”

“Just do the scan Kurt.” Amber said. Kurt shot her a disgusted look, but his hands flew over the controls. On the small viewing panel next to him, the schematics of the ship flashed by, level by level, with the heat sigs of the crew in bright reddish orange. On the last one, the officers quarters, a pale white mark pulsed.

“That’s the captain’s quarters.” Kurt looked up at Gabe “What is that?”


“Even more, Captain’s signal is coming through.” Leigh announced, tone amused.

Gabe nodded towards the view-screen. It flared to life, Linz’s face dominated the room.

“Gabe, I need you station-side.” Linz said. Amber caught sight of two men behind her, heads together and talking.


“Guy named George says he knew mom.” Lynz glanced over her shoulder. “I need an assessment of these guys.”

Gabe nodded. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Be ready to ship off when we get back. I have a feeling things may get a bit exciting.”


The screen went black, and Amber took off. She rushed out the door, down the steps and hall to the officer’s quarters. Her hands trembled as she worked the access code. She was maintenance, had the clearance. The door slid open and she crept into Linz’s tidy room. Larger than the standard rooms, the Captain’s quarters came equipped with a bathing chamber and observation window over the bed; sheer luxury. And curled up on Linz’s large, fancy pillows was the snake.

Amber hurried over to the creature. It’s got to be a girl. She likes luxury. Amber thought as she picked the snake up, whispering to her. She didn’t try to slither away as Amber carried her to the door. Gabe stepped into the doorway with crossed arms, and a scowl.

“Captain ain’t back yet.” She said, trying her best little girl voice.

“You’ll have half an hour to get that thing in your quarters, and get the holds fixed and ready to go.”

“Consider it done.” Jake said, patting the taller man as he dashed down the hall.

“Gabe,” Amber hesitated.

“Make sure it can’t escape, again. Understood?” He didn’t wait for an answer, he, turned and left.

Amber slipped from the captain’s quarters, secured the door and regarded her pet with a smile. “So now, back to what we were discussing, what am I going to name you?”



Go here to enjoy other flash fiction pieces! 😀  There is some great stuff over there.

Have a great weekend folks!!


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Flash Fiction Friday

So there is a group of us, from Forward Motion who are part of a Flash Fiction Friday thingy over here. It’s challenging, and a way to work on tightening up writing and having fun. So today I put Bastard Prince aside and played with this…thing.


 Flash Fiction #1

A steady drip, the smell of gasoline. I woke slowly, though I didn’t remember going to sleep. I became aware of other sounds, crinkling sounds, the falling of glass. Something pressed over my eyes and forehead, blocking my vision. Airbag, maybe? I tried to move. Pain exploded through me, yet some of it was suspiciously numb.  I was pinned, my arms trapped against my body.

Around the curves, a bit faster than I should have, but this car was made for speed. Something in the road. Something that shouldn’t be there. A jerk of the steering wheel, then…nothing.

I tried to move my head, pain shot from shoulders to fingertips, throbbing down my back. I tried blinking, but whatever was covering my face wouldn’t move. The smell of gasoline was so strong! I swallowed, afraid.  I smelled smoke. Trapped, I couldn’t get out. No one knew I took dad’s car, that I was going for a drive. My cell phone was sitting on my bed. Gravel crunched, footfalls neared. Fear battled desperation. Red eyes. The thing in the road had red eyes. What if it was out there?

“Help me!” My voice was little more than a whisper. I felt tears on my cheeks. Dear god, I was going to die. Glass broke, and I felt heat. The car was on fire and something was crunching over glass and gravel.

Metal groaned and whatever covered my face was pulled aside. I saw a blur of motion, felt something grip my arms. I was being dragged from the car. I passed out before I was completely freed.

When I opened my eyes, I could see a figure crouched beside the burning wreck. I couldn’t move, I could barely breathe. I heard a scraping sound and turned my head.

Red eyes, glowing in the dark, were creeping towards me. I tried to scream, but my voice was gone. The car exploded. Light illuminated the creature towering over me. Pale dead skin with stringy hair. Glowing eyes and fangs. Long, piercing fangs. Its hands reached out, claw-like brown-stained nails at the end of boney fingers, twitched, grasping. I knew it was going to eat me.

It rushed towards me, mouth agape, and there was a confusing blur of growls and snarls. Something jumped between it and me, and the two things crashed together. I saw fur, and blood, lots of blood. The red-eyed monster fled with a howl and my savior, twice over, knelt beside me. I tried to scoot backwards, but my arms wouldn’t obey.

An elongated, misshapen  jaw with outjutting canines and lower tusks, was the prominent features on this part man, part beast. He wore only pants, ripped and torn. His feet also misshapen and had long claws. His body was covered in a dark fur, his chest marred by eight long scratches that seeped blood. He studied me, dark eyes set deep beneath heavy brows. He reached a clawed hand towards me, I tried to pull away. He smiled at me, his jaw not made for it, the soft fur on his hand brushing my cheek; wiping away my tears.

“It won’t come back.” His voice was deep, the words mushed from the misshapen face. “An ambulance is on its way.”

“Don’t leave yet.” The words were hollow to my ears.

“I’ll stay.” His body began to shift, contort. I heard the crackling of bones, the slithering sound of skin and tissue adjusting to a new form. The large, dark, wolf lay beside me, in the flickering light of the burning car. He licked my face as we waited.

The sirens, and flashing lights woke me. The EMTs questions confused me and I reached for the wolf and almost cried. He was gone. They lifted me onto a stretcher, reassuring me, talking to me. I looked towards the trees and saw him, just sitting, watching. Then I was in the ambulance and we were whizzing to the hospital in the nearest town. I tried to answer the EMT who kept asking questions, but found myself drifting back to sleep. In the moment between awake and unconsciousness,  I felt his fur brushing my cheek.


The sky was a perfect shade of blue. The forest a rich green. Yet at this same spot, just a few months before, I almost died. I leaned on the crutches, staring at the tree-line, the darkened gravel. I almost died here. The words ran in circles through my head. The doctor said an anonymous caller phoned in the wreak. Dispatch walked him through some basic first aid to stop the bleeding. I couldn’t remember it. When the EMTs got there I had rough bandages on me, and the caller was gone.

No one saw a wolf that night, except for me. I stared towards the trees. He was right there, watching them load me up.  I slowly made my way towards the trees, hating the crutches and the casts. I stopped, near where I thought I last saw him. The forest smells wafted my way, rich soil, moist air, and the sound of birds. But no large dark canine with laughing eyes. No red-eyed creature either.

Why was I here? Did I expect him to be there? He was probably long gone, if he was even real. “Thank you.” I whispered the words, hoping that he might be there, hiding in the underbrush, listening.

“Rebecca! Come on!” My sister, Susan, who had brought me out here, leaned against her car, watching me with worried eyes.

“I’m coming!” I made my way back, slow, halting. Crutches in gravel, tended to slip. I was almost to the car door when I heard a whisper behind me.

“You’re welcome.”

By the time I got turned around, I thought I saw in the shadow of the forest, the shape of a large wolf, sitting, watching. I smiled, turned, and made my way back to the car, crunching over glass and gravel.

The End.


word count, according to Word, is 996

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