I’ll like to include me in your will.

Short Story #16

You don’t mess with Marcus and get to live.

You don’t mess with his children and get to see the next daylight. You don’t mess with his wife and get to see the sunset from the Eiffel Tower. But most of all, MOST OF ALL, you don’t get to mess with Marcus da Díxon’s identical mirror image twin and get to breathe the next minute. Ray was the reason why his heart beats. The reason why he existed. When they were created, Ray was chosen as the automatic function between the two meaning that if Ray dies, then Marcus dies.

Ray had danger magnet stamped on his forehead and Marcus found himself trying to do the impossible: protect his twin at all cost in order to keep them both alive, something he recently failed miserably at, hence the reason he found himself in the seediest Parisian district known to the French searching for his missing twin, his heart beat growing fainter with every passing second.

WORDS: 165

*** I am still struggling to write. I don’t have writer’s block, but my focus is not on writing short stories at the moment. This is something I found while going through my flash drive. I kind of added a little bit to it, but that’s about all the writing I did. It’s a Science Fiction story, but I don’t think I’ll be completing this one. It was an experiment of sorts. ^^



Short Story #15

Glassy green eyes met icy gray ones across the mahogany desk, the only thing separating the men and the thickening atmosphere in the small, but cramped room.

“This can only work one way,” the goon in the blue powder suit from behind the desk rose to his full height thinking that it would send a threat to the man still seated in the ugly plush green chair. The gray-eyed man didn’t flinch. He just sat there with a smirk on his stern, but handsome face that the goon wished he could wipe off with just a backhand slap, but he had heard things about this Monsieur. “You have to agree with my terms otherwise the deal is off.”

Jean-Pierre Papin sadistically smiles. “I work only for money. If you want loyalty, get a dog.”

“They say you are the best!”

“And I am the best, but I don’t work on your terms. I work on mine. If you think you can do the job better than me, then you have no need for my help.”

WORDS: 175


“I’ll take whatever you can give.”

Short Story #11

He envisioned long nights and early mornings with her. He wanted to smile with her, share his breakfast with her, and go on cheap dates with her. But she was broken and scarred and seeing her bare her soul took courage, something she was not given enough credit for.

But he was willing to try. He was willing to show her that he was not like the other men in her former life. He was willing to risk his happiness for hers.

He smiled, a small tug at his heart that was like a sweet pain. “I’ll take whatever you can give.” He kissed the jagged scar on her shoulder blade. “And when you’re ready, you can give me more.”

Words: 120



If I close my eyes, you’re mine tonight

Last evening I said I was void of inspiration. I don’t usually rely on music to help fill me up with inspiration unless its gospel, Dave Gahan, Sade… I think I’ll leave this for a future post, but I think you get the point: selected music. I put on Dave Gahan’s Paper Monsters and when ‘Bitter Apple’ came on, a bright flash went off, and here is the result: a sequel to Memory.


It was almost half past twelve when the barkeep had enough of his drinking and threw him out of the bar. He shook his fists threatening to never spend his money at his favorite waterhole again and stumbled down the nearly deserted street towards home. He rubbed his temple scornfully thinking about the empty house that waited to welcome him two blocks from here. 

He didn’t want to go home because her memory still lived there. Her scent still lingered there. Her things were still there. Many times he’ll wish her back into his life and tonight was no different.

If I close my eyes, you’re mine tonight.

But she was never coming back and it was something he was not good at pretending to live with.


Days long gone
And lost hot nights
No crowded streets to walk tonight
Still the stars shine so bright
Don’t need a coat I’ll be alright

Then you walked into my life
Halo bright with dark brown eyes
Just standing in her light
Remembered love again that night


Short Story #10

I am beginning to dislike some men. The way they act, the way they always let you down, their way of thinking and their grand ego. Ugh! I am so fed up of them! They think that they’re God’s gift to women. Newsflash pretty boy, we can do without the likes of you! You’re not God’s gifts to us, but we’re gifts to all of you, men.

All you need to do is show us, women the respect we deserve, show that you value us, show that you’re worth our time, love, and energy. Tell us and show us that you appreciate us. You know what makes us worthy? The fact that we give our all to a man we love only to get hurt in the end when we find out that you’re on games!

Faithful women don’t like games!

Then there are those men whose only concern is getting into our jeans. Once he gets what he’s after, he’s gone in a jiffy. 

Men, stop messing around and playing games with the ladies who care about you. Be a man. Don’t make a woman fall for you only for you to start avoiding her after moving on to the ‘catch of the day’. Did ‘chu ever stop to wonder why there are lesbians and heartless women out here? It’s because of you, man, and what you did to break her fragile heart.

Be a man and act like one. Don’t act like boys whose main goal in life is to treat women as toys. If you start treating us the way we should be treated, then maybe we’ll stop hating you so much and we can talk about forgiveness.

adult, blur, bouquet

*** Today’s short shot was contributed by a dear friend of mine, Des. She writes from life, from the heart, from the soul. I may feature more of her stories if she lets me. She’s a wonderful writer and she has a way with words. Thank you, Des! God bless. 🙂

Never piss off a writer

Short Story #9

She sat at her desk angrily hitting the keys on her computer as she updated her blog. Her jacket hung from the chair behind her, hair tumbled out of a messy bun to curl around her face.

“Alicia, I have something to tell you,”

She knew that tone. That tone was never good. She could still taste his kiss on her lips when he admitted that he cheated on her with the girl from reception. She could still taste his kiss as she gathered her belongings and went home. 

That kiss was soon forgotten when itching fingers made contact with the keyboard.

In her story, she was going to torture him and if she felt like it, he was going to die. She was revved up and inspired. She was going to let her fingers bleed tonight and ignore the pain for in the morning, she’ll have a new novel ready for her publisher.

Words: 154


Image result for don't mess with writers

Image result for don't mess with writers

Just A Little More

Short Story #8

“Well, Lilly, I have an update for you.” The voice spoke low and unhurried given that it was just them alone on this humid evening. He cherished these little moments with just her. “Will is finally learning to draw again. His art is a little bit darker, but I am reminded that he has to take baby steps in order to rediscover the artist within. He mostly uses black, dark blue, bloody red, and gray colors, though. As for Cindy, she is finally bringing home good grades. She also brought home her first boyfriend, Shah, who is a nice boy. He has been a pillar for her to lean on. He also surfs and he’s actually teaching Cindy to catch the waves.”

James wearily smiled and placed the bouquet of his late wife’s favorite flowers on the grave. It’s been two and a half years since the light of his life went out of this world plunging it into temporary darkness.

I can’t bear being apart from you any longer, but just a little more. Just a little more and then I’ll be with you.

Words: 185