Category Archives: Gwendolyn Cease

First Time – First Meeting

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We have a new feature added to the blogging schedule this year called “First Time.” This will be a chance to showcase characters, either from a story already on our blog, from a new piece, or from a another WIP, doing something specific for the first time. This month’s theme is First Meeting. I chose something a little different for this month. While there is a first meeting involved, the two characters don’t know each other, even after they “meet.” You’ll see what I mean. This snippet is the opening from a young adult paranormal/thriller type story I’ve been working on.

 

Standing on the top deck of the ferry, I closed my eyes and let the wind whip my hair around my face. We were almost to the island and as much as I was looking forward to being back there, I didn’t want the ride to end. Finally, I opened my eyes to look around when a shoulder bumped lightly against mine. Just dad, coming to enjoy the view with me. He loved the island as much as I did, it felt like home to both of us. 

In silence we watched the island grow closer. The majestic Grand Hotel stood like a sentry, watching all the ferries on their way to and from the island. The green tops of the trees in the state park glittered in the sunshine and the blue skies overhead were cloudless and bright. Eventually, the boat made its way to the dock where the practiced hands of the crew parked it gently, so the passengers could disembark.  

We met the third member of our party, my best friend Will, on the bottom deck where he had chosen to wait out the ride. He wouldn’t listen when I said the fresh air would help his queasy stomach, so when we met up with him, he looked pale and sweaty. 

The three of us gathered our computers and duffel bags, the rest of our stuff was already at our destination and joined the throngs of people streaming onto dry land. Seemingly without thinking, Dad and Will took positions on either side of me to create a little insulation. The gesture was automatic for both of them, even though it wasn’t really necessary anymore. 

As I was stepping off the walkway onto the dock, I was jostled by the crowd and the world fell away. 

I was in a dimly lit large room of some sort, high ceilings and few furnishings. The only sound was a constant drip, but it was muffled and sounded far away. My vision improved as I walked farther into the room and I could make out a table, with a shape on top of it. I got within a few feet and realized the shape was a person or had been. Parts were missing, a leg below the knee, some of the fingers. What remained was sliced and torn and covered in blood. I could see blood dripping onto a tarp under the table, the source of the sound. 

In a burst of sunlight, I came back to myself and realized I was clinging to Will’s arm, my dad trying to lead us away from the crowd. On shaky legs I let them guide me to a bench and sat down to catch my breath. 

“Sweetie, are you ok?” 

It took me a second to find my voice so that I could answer my dad. “Just need to sit a minute. That came out of nowhere.” 

“What happened?” Will asked, looking concerned. 

“Not sure. Must have bumped into someone’s arm or something. I couldn’t block it, it cut through my shields.” 

“What did you see?” 

Looking around I noticed a few people staring at us curiously. “Not here. Can I tell you when we get to Gran and Grandpa’s?” 

“Sure.” 

Before I could stop them, they each grabbed one of my bags and added to their own loads. They were both so protective of me, especially after a vision. It was sweet but infuriating at the same time. As much as they wanted to help, they weren’t psychic. They couldn’t know what it was like to see into someone else’s mind.

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Bronwyn Green | Jess Jarman | Siobhan Muir | Kris Norris | Gwen Cease |

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Flash Fiction – January 2019

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I feel like every time I blog, I start out by saying, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve blogged…

This time is no different, so I won’t do that except to say, I think I’m finally starting to pull out of a major depressive episode I’ve been in for almost for a year, so I feel like I’m coming back to myself a bit. This is my first attempt at writing anything since I blogged last January. I hope it’s the first of many this year.

 

 

Walking into the room, I was assaulted by memories. Everything was different, but also, it was exactly how I remembered it.

“Kate, what are we doing here?”

I could hear Marie behind me, I knew she was asking me something, but I couldn’t pull myself out of my thoughts long enough to answer her. The shelves that used to be lined with books now stood empty, most of the contents strewn on the floor. Or gone, from what I could tell. That probably happened in the blast, I assumed. The hours I used to spend in here, reading titles off the spines, planning which book I would read next. All gone now.

“Hello! Kate! What is this place?”

Marie was getting more impatient by the minute and she was going to start yelling if I didn’t answer her soon.

Finally, I turned to my companion and met her anxious gaze. “This was my house.”

“Oh, for the love! Please don’t tell me we came here so you could keep looking for Matthew? I thought you finally gave up on him!” The disgust was clear in her voice.

“I have given up on him, I’m not looking for him anymore. I promised you that. It’s just…” I paused for a second to gather my thoughts. “A couple of days ago when I realize where our route was taking us, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least stop by here and see what, if anything might be left. It’s been almost a year, I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

Marie snorted delicately. “Right, hurt you or hurt us? If you get depressed again after this, I’m not dragging you out of here.”

I rolled my eyes at her. She wouldn’t let me forget the shape I was in when she first found me, practically comatose and waiting to die. What did she expect? My world had turned upside down, hers too. I’m still not sure how she held it together back then, and how she was now.

Looking around the room once more, I noticed a couple of books standing neatly on the shelves, the only items not on the floor. Dumbfounded I walked closer. They were my journals, of all things. I couldn’t imagine how they ended up down here, since I had always kept them in my closet, and that was where I had left them when I fled. Reaching up, I started to grab the red one, the last one I had.

“Don’t touch that.” I stopped moving at the voice, and the soft click of someone turning off the safety on a gun. “Don’t you touch a damn thing.” he said again.

Meeting Marie’s eyes, I could see she was terrified. With my hands in the air, to show I was unarmed, I slowly pivoted in place pulling back my hood at the same time. My ears hadn’t been deceiving me, I knew that voice.

“Matthew?” It came out in barely a whisper.

“Kate?” The surprise and confusion was clear on his face, I was the last person he had expected to see here.

Without thinking I ran to him and launched myself into his arms. He buried his face against my neck and I could feel him shaking as I hugged him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling back to look at me. “How long have you been here?”

“Me, what about you? Have you been here this whole time?”

“No,” he said. “I only came back through a couple of days ago, and thought I would check and see if there had been any sign of you. I didn’t really expect to find anything, or any one.”

Gesturing towards the shelf, I asked, “did you set my journals up there?”

He looked embarrassed, but nodded. “Yeah, I thought. Well, I thought they shouldn’t be hidden away anymore. Stupid, I know.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat reminded me that we had company.

“Matthew, this Marie. We’ve been traveling together, looking for, anything I suppose.”

He nodded at her in hello, but didn’t acknowledge her beyond that. “Have you seen anyone else?” Matthew asked.

“No. Marie found me about two weeks after the blast. Have you found anyone, Matthew? Anyone at all?”

“Not a soul.” The fear and confusion were evident in his voice.

Looking back and forth between my two companions I asked the question no one wanted to ask. “Are we really the last three people left on Earth?”

 

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Bronwyn Green | Jess Jarman | Kris Norris | Siobhan Muir | Gwendolyn Cease

Photo Flash Fiction – Jan 2018

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Alright, I’m trying to get back in the swing of things. This will probably be short, but I’m writing something for the first time in quite a while. Here goes…

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“Damn car. I told Aaron we needed a new battery, but he was all, nooooo, it’s fine. Fine my ass. He’s never lived in the frozen tundra, he doesn’t know what it does to car batteries. And now, here I am, the middle of nowhere, no car, no heat.” I kept up the bitching as I made my way along the side of the road, my righteous anger helping to keep me warm. When I got back home, I was going to show him exactly what the snow and cold could do to a body.

After about fifteen minutes, and ten partially numb toes, I found a driveway leading off the road. Driveway was probably a generous term, more like tiny path that a hearty truck would maybe make it through. But, I could see a house at the end of it, and there was a light in the window, so I headed off that way.

Knocking on the front door didn’t produce an answer, so I hollered a few times to see if maybe someone was outside but close by. “Hello! Is anyone home!” Nothing. Pulling my phone out I checked again to see if there was a signal. Also nothing there. This area was a notorious dead zone. Of course.

Trying the front door I found it was unlocked. Time to go Goldilocks, I was done freezing out here. Walking into the front hall, I called out again, “hello! Is anyone home? My car died and I need to use a phone!”

“Sorry dear, were you knocking? I was in the basement.”

Screaming, I jumped and turned to find Mother Goose behind me. Or at least the real life version of her. White hair up in a bun, flowered apron, orthopedic shoes and all.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “Of course, you are the one in my house uninvited.”

”Yes, um…please forgive.” I was stammering, trying to get my breathing back under control. “No one answered and the door was open.” I faltered, unnerved by the way she was staring at me, without blinking. “So, yeah, my car died and I can’t get a cell signal. I was getting really cold outside. Could, uh, do you have a phone I could borrow?”

“Of course,” she said. “It’s in the kitchen.” I started to follow after her. “Boots off, please. We don’t want to track in snow.”

I hesitated a second before reaching down and unlacing my boots. I was a little unsettled by the old lady, but chalked it up to her probably being uneasy about a stranger showing up out of nowhere.

In the kitchen, I found a phone straight from the 1980’s on the wall but when I picked up the receiver there was no dial tone. I turned around to tell her the phone was dead and saw I was alone. The bad feelings spiked and I headed straight back to the front door, only to find my boots were gone.

”Now, dear.” The voice came from behind me. “First lesson, never walk into someone’s home uninvited.”

Turning slowly, I came to face to face with a large, bloody, butcher knife.

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Bronwyn Green | Siobhan Muir | Gwendolyn Cease | Kris Norris

Flash Fiction Monday – Ghost by Halsey

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The inspiration for this week’s flash fiction is Ghost by Halsey. If you’re interested, you can read the lyrics here or listen to it here.

This is kind of short, but I’m just getting back into the swing of things…

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“Is that guy over there, watching me?”

“Which one?”

“The one by the pool table, with the group. Haven’t seen him play once, just keeps watching me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.”

I sneak a glance over that way again to see if I can catch the guy’s eye and I do, just as he glances away from me. Not bad, tall, dark hair, motorcycle jacket. My type on the outside.

“What do you think, Libby? Going to go introduce yourself?”

“No, I think he might come my way.”

I decided to put myself a little more in the mystery man’s realm and walked through the group of pool tables on the way to the bar to get another drink, Jackson following the whole time. I did my best to look like I wanted to be noticed, without trying to be noticed.

At the bar, waiting for my drink I felt a body move up next to me. A little too close really, unless that’s what you were going for.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Already have one,” I replied, as the bartender handed me a beer. “But you can join me outside for a smoke if you want.”

“Ok, sure. I’m Ethan.”

“Libby.” Taking a  drink from by beer I turned and lead the way to the back entrance of the bar, the one that let out into an alley between this building and the one next door.

“Lib,” Jackson said, trailing behind us. “What are you doing?”

I ignored him and pulled Ethan along with me. Once outside I set my beer down and pushed Ethan up against the wall, attacking his mouth with mine. He seemed stunned at first, but caught on quick.

“Libby, really,” Jackson was seriously annoyed now. “I thought you said it was going to be just us, for awhile at least. It’s only been a few months.”

I spared Jackson a quick glance, marveling again how the lights in the alley made a halo around his form. And he was right, I had promised him it would be just us for awhile. But, I was weak. And Ethan was cute. And who knew where things would go with him. Just because I made Jackson into a ghost who would stay with me, didn’t mean I would have to do the same for Ethan.

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Jess Jarman | Bronwyn Green | Kris Norris | Siobhan Muir | Deelylah Mullin | Gwendolyn Cease

Wednesday Randomness – Behind the scenes of my current project

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This week’s random Wednesday topic is a peek behind the scenes of my current project. I haven’t been super productive lately, or productive at all, but I’m going to give you a sneak peek of the project I WANT to be working on.

This story came about from a photo flash fiction prompt last year. If you’re interested and want to read the story that started it all, click here. I think this is going to end up being the prologue, or maybe some sort of flashback. I definitely want it in the story somewhere.

The main location of the story is a bed and breakfast in New England, I see a house in my mind kind of like this:

B&B1

 

I also have a pictures in my head for a few key characters. The main character is Abigail, a widow who moves out East to start over. For her, I picture someone very girl-next-door, wholesome, sweet.

Abigail

 

For her deceased husband (who I realize isn’t actually in the book but still plays a large part), I didn’t have a specific person in mind. Not someone famous anyway, but a certain look for sure. This character is based on someone I knew in high school, but we’ll need to add some curly hair.

Mark

For the dashing doctor, Kyle, non other than the beautiful Chris Pine. Let’s all just take a minute to appreciate those eyes.

Kyle

And finally, for Abigail’s new friend Maya, who brings a wonderful group of people into Abby’s life:

Maya

This is basically just the most beautiful town ever, obviously.

I’m not sure what else I can say about the story at this point. I guess it would be categorized as a contemporary romance, my first foray into that area. Up until now I’ve focused mainly on YA. I’m probably a third of way through the first draft and I’d really like to finish it by the end of the year. That’s my goal.

See what the other bloggers are working on, and say hello to our newest blogger, Torrance!

Bronwyn
Jess
Gwen
Jessica
Kris
Paige
Torrance

Wordless Wednesday – Anger/Rage

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Mrs. White 5

Mrs. White 3

Mrs. White 4

 

Check out the other bloggers to experience their rage:

Bronwyn
Kris
Jess
Paige
Gwen

 

Wednesday Randomness – An Angry Letter

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This week’s topic is an angry letter to anyone or anything we want. I thought for a long time about the subject of this letter, and last night while I was trying to fall asleep, it came to me. Gizmo.

Gizmo is my neighbor’s dog. I can’t get a picture of Gizmo without looking super creepy and stalkery, so we’ll just substitute in this one:

Gizmo_(in_blue_flame-like_background)

The Gizmo that lives next door is not that cute. He (or she) is some sort of tiny mutt that’s black and white (dirty, dingy white), with a Mohawk. But not even a cute Mohawk. It’s a dumb Mohawk. The neighbors (otherwise known has Creepy Old Dude and his Wife) tie Gizmo to the front door to let it out, which ends up being next to our drive way. So when we park and get out of the car, we are treated to a lots of high-pitched, angry barking. Or, when we go out on our front porch. Or take our dog out at night for a last bathroom break. Or, as happened last night that prompted this post, our dog and Gizmo saw each other through our living window which started a barking/beagle howling battle at 10:30 at night. Awesome.

I’ve never been a dog person per se, I’m more of one now that I have a dog. I’ve gotten to like many more of them in general.

I severely dislike Gizmo.

I guess this wasn’t so much of a angry letter. Here, I’ll end on a short one.

Dear Stupid Gizmo,

Don’t choke on a bone or anything.*

Love, Me.

*I would like to point out that I would never wish or condone harm on an animal, but that is the most annoying little bastard of a dog.

Check out the links below to read the other angry letters:
Bronwyn
Gwen
Paige