Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Constellations or Spooky tale for Write, Edit, Publish blog-hop

In this post for the October Write, Edit, Publish blog-hop we are challenged to write about the Constellations or to scare you with a Spooky tale. Denise Covey and Yolanda Renee have really put on their witches hats to come up with such a challenge. We'll, I've done both. Alas I'm not alone, so I've added the link that will take you to the list of all the other writers and artist. To read go here.

Guess which constellation is in my story? You're right.


Half the student body was in the park tonight. At least it felt like half. Some were gathered around the huge bonfire in the pit the park provided. Most were smoking pot and drinking beer. I was using one of the telescopes Mr. Weaver had provided to study the stars along with my classmates.
            “Hey, Wigs,” Brian said, walking up to me along with his buddies, Jack and Paul.
            I glanced at them. “My name is Katie.” The students at my school had started calling me ‘wigs’ after I lost all my hair during chemo, two years ago when I wore a wig. All better now and my hair was back, short but real.
            Brian stopped in front of the telescope blocking my view. “It’s not fair that you were assigned Orion.”
            I stood up straight ready for a fight with the class bullies. “What’s it to you?”
            “We want Orion.” Brian shoved his hands into his pockets.
            “So?” I looked between the three.
            “We are all from Orion,” Paul said.
            “Huh?” Paul was tall and too thin.
            “It’s true,” Jack said. “Aliens came down and colonized this planet from the Orion system.”
            “You’re saying we are from the Orion system? That we are aliens?” This sounded a lot like that weird T.V. show.
            “Not exactly,” Brian said. “We mated with the inhabitants. Changed the DNA.”
            “So what exactly does this have to do with me?” I folded my arms.
            “When you do your report,” Brian said. “Add that in.”
            “You’re joking, right? You want me to humiliate myself by claiming that advanced aliens had sex with cave women? The answers no, boys.”
            “Look.” Jack grabbed my arm. I yanked it out of his fingers and backed up.
            “You three are just pissed because Mr. Weaver gave you the Big and Little Dipper. Maybe you should take it up with Orion, I hear he’s moved in down the street. Big guy, white hair, carries a sickle.” I approached the telescope. Brian picked it up.
            I put my hands on my hip. “Hey Dipper boy, put it down!”
            “You are just---” Jack seemed to have a hard time figuring out how to insult me.
“Hand over the assignment. You take the two Dippers and we take Orion.” Brian’s grin made me want to smack him.
            “Why don’t you go to the nearest cave and dance with the Neanderthals.”
            “Because you won’t be there, ‘Wigs.’” Paul stepped a little to near and I backed up.
            Mr. Weaver came over. “You alright Katherine?”
            “Yeah, just great.” I said. “These three want Orion instead of the Big and Little Dipper.”
            “The assignments stand. Get to work on your project boys and leave Katherine alone.”
            Brian, Paul and Jack walked away grumbling. Mr. Weaver adjusted the telescope and nodded at me. I finished my study of Orion and put my notes in my backpack and left.
            My parents had bought a house that skirted the park. I approached the back gate about fifteen minutes later. I was still mad at the dipper boys and took several steps over the brown grass in the backyard toward the rear of my house. The night had been cool, but a sudden blast of frigid air came on the wind and I was shoved to the ground. I grunted, lost my breath and turned over on my back. The fallen oak leaves rustled beneath me.
            Above me in a cloudless sky was the constellation Orion. Now I’ve never been good at connecting the stars the way the Ancient Greeks did, but as I watched a laser light spread between the stars to outline Orion. His sword sheathed at his side and a sickle raised in one hand.
            As I watched, Orion turned his head and his eyes came alive in shades of red. He leapt from the sky and landed near me. I gasped, my hair was tossed in the wind about my face and I wondered if someone had slipped me a hallucination pill in my coffee.
            “You dare to mock me, human?!” Orion’s deep voice rocked the bare branches of our oat near me. I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak.
            “Die!” Orion swept his sickle past my head. I scooted back like a desperate bug on my hands and feet, straddling the ground. Orion’s sickle slammed into the oak tree. It groaned and a dead branch fell slicing deep into my side. I gasped. Pain coursed through my body like ghostly fingers trying to freeze my soul. The imagine of Orion blurred. I felt the ground shake with his weight as he walked away and realized he had left.
            The wind still whisked through the bitter night. Oak leaves swirled around me. I held my side were the oak had injured me. Blood flowed warm between my fingers. My breath now came in short gasps. My last thought as I died was; The Dipper Boys would get Orion now.

Word Count: 825

Thank you for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed my story.

Now available on Amazon for the low friendship price of 99 cents.

To purchase go here.

Also available:

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N. R. Williams
Copyright 2016
All rights reserved.

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Tribute to Pappy and IWSG

Tribute to Pappy

Last Saturday, Oct. 1, 2016, my step-father passed away. He was born Richard (Dick) Monroe on Oct. 4, 1921. He would have been 95. His health and my mother’s had been failing for a number of years but it still came as a shock.

He was Pappy to my children and the only grandfather they knew. I can still see him with his fingers folded together and making his classic comment, “Yeah,” with a little chuckle.

My mother and Dick went to High School together in Rochester, Minnesota. I remember mother showing me a picture of a class play she was in along with several other students and Dick. Since mother never mentioned Dick other than the one time, I had no idea he was special to her.

After many years here in Colorado, mother returned to Rochester to be close to her own mother during her failing years. One day I stopped by mom’s house to learn that her High School was holding their 50th Class Reunion. Mother had never attended before but she went that year and met up with Dick.

Theirs’s was the classic love story. A best-selling book or tear jerking movie. Right after High School mom went into nursing school and Dick went into the Air Force. Pearl Harbor soon sent America into WWII. But even though mom and Dick were separated they still wrote each other.

After the war my mom met my father and married him a little too fast. They were happy at first but my dad was an alcoholic so mom always worked. Eventually they divorced when I was thirteen.

As it turned out, Dick had intended to ask my mom to marry him, but he waited too long. However, he did marry and have two children. His wife died of M.S. So, they met again and married thirty-six years ago this November. I have never seen my mother so happy.

Here’s to you pappy. You are loved and will be missed.


As you probably know the Insecure Writer’s Support Group was started by Alex J. Cavanaugh to encourage writers of all ages. To read other post go here.

Today’s question: When do you know your story is ready?

This is a subjective question. When writing my epic fantasies, I create a one or two sentence outline. I know where the story is going. I bring up questions throughout and I’m careful to answer them.

However, my flash fiction stories are written by the seat of my pants. So for me, either the outline helps to complete a story or as in the second case, it feels right. My critique group will let me know if it’s not.
How about you?

The spook is on!
My Halloween Collection 1 is available for a low friendship price of 99 cents. This is a collection of 7 stories. The cover is wrong, it say’s five but it is seven flash fiction stories.

Soon my Halloween Collection 2 will be available.

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Announcing the October Challenge; Write, Edit, Publish

It's time to polish your writing skills. October is almost here and you can sign up for the Write, Edit, Publish Challenge. This year you can pick to write about the constellations or to write a spooky horror tale. Or you can combine them. So put on your thinking caps and join the fun.


Sign up here on Oct. 1, 2016

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

IWSG Sept., 2016 Characters

It's the 1st Wednesday in September. Summers almost over in the Northern Hemisphere. For are Southern friends they will soon welcome spring. Changes are coming and it's time for the IWSG blog. Created by Alex J. Cavanuagh who realized that many of us are insecure and created a forum so we could share. Thank you Alex.

If you'd like to see what others have to say about their insecurities go here.

Today I've decided to post about characters. Who better to have insecurities than our characters. What kind and how those nasty insecurities affect them is up to you.

Let's say you are developing a character. It doesn't matter if it's a hero or villain. Why? Because each must be motivated by something as well as challenged.

One character has always had it easy. S/he has been loved and encouraged they're entire life.

The other character has struggled through school and has been told they're worthless.

Which one is the most compelling?

While all of us wish our lives had been the first, I think most of us can honestly say life hasn't always been wonderful.

If it is a hero that you're writing about how does s/he overcome the obstacles that are put in front of them? If a villain, how does his/her past affect their mindset. How does the past make them choose what they do.

I love a story that makes me sympathize with the villain while hating his/her actions.

The choice is yours. "Be a brilliant and prolific writer."  I love this quote but I'm having trouble finding the author. If you know please let me know in the comments.

Name a favorite character, what story or author and why.

Be inspired.

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Insecure Writer's Support Group

The first Wednesday in July means it's time for another Insecure Writer's post. Brain child of Alex J. Cavanguah. To read what others have to say go here.

So...what are you insecure about?...or what are you encouraged about? seems to me that both emotions ebb and flow like the tide. Today I'm going to share my greatest insecurity. It's a whopper, no cheese added. it is. My big ugly problem. I have a lot of great reviews. Even so, I don't believe anything I do is good enough. The euphoria of a good review will last a few hours. Once it lasted all day. It evaporates like dew on a sunny morning. Why?

I am a survivor of abuse. From my father who belittled me. From my mother who gave me mixed signals, saying I was mentally challenged, (I had a learning disability,) to saying I was brilliant with my artistic abilities and then saying I'd never make money at anything I mentioned as an interest. Confusing. I was a brilliant loser who would never amount to anything unless I became a nurse like her. I had no interest in nursing and still don't.

In my early twenties I joined a Christian free group. I was the happiest I'd ever been and then...the elder decided I would like a certain brother who I knew didn't like me. This brother did everything in his power to ignore me and even lied about me to others making me into his scapegoat. The same elder said we couldn't see each other and told all the brothers I wanted to marry them. Ridiculous. Remember my father. I was afraid of men. It took everything inside of me to open up to that brother. Once I was off limits he decided he wanted me after all and started staring at me in every meeting until I developed panic attacks. Over a year. I was excommunicated and moved away. But the fear has never left.

That should do it right? No...I got married. My father-in-law died three years into our marriage and my mother-in-law had terminal cancer. When that happened my husband suddenly remembered his abusive childhood and just like that, he became an abuser. Life was hell. I tried to find a job that paid well enough so I could take the kids and leave. I begged my mother to help me and her response was, "I'll take the kids." No way was I going to abandon my children. The church I was in wouldn't help. My friends wouldn't help. I got to a point where I couldn't cry anymore. My world was darkness.

So, how did I survive? I started writing. All the fears, all the horrors, all my insecurities became fodder for my characters. that process I started to heal. My mother took up writing also when she retired, so I finally had something she approved of. Remember that learning disability? I was switched from my left hand to my right and flunked English grammar. I joined a writers group and learned grammar and how to write. I never had the money to leave my husband and he made sure I never had enough money to go back to school. He has changed though. He found Jesus and has mellowed. There is no more abuse.

Still...scars remain and I suspect my friends get tired of telling me they love my books. So here to you all. I appreciate everyone who tries to encourage me and who buys my book to read it. Soon I'll have a new book cover and also print copies. For now my epic fantasy is an e-book on Amazon and so are the other books in the side bar. I'd really appreciate it if anyone who hasn't read them yet and left a review would do so. The sequel is with my editor and a short story is in the submission process. My motto: Never give up, never surrender.