I really enjoyed this piece of flash fiction. I want to know more about the old man!

Originally posted on Don Miskel:

“I hate when it rains. Reduces visibility.” That was my uninformed, upstart of a partner running his mouth again, not knowing a damn thing about anything that mattered.

“You talk too fuckin’ much,” I said gruffly. Stakeout tête-à-tête made the time go by, but it was only when that conversation wasn’t for the sake of creating carbon dioxide. “What’d I tell you about that?”

He sighed like a frustrated little brat that’d been relegated to the nearest corner when all he wanted to do was play.

“Rain is a good thing,” I informed him. “Reduced visibility makes it harder for witnesses to make out detail…and it washes away evidence, too. Lemme see your piece.”

I didn’t particularly like breaking in the new guys, tagging along so they didn’t make the stupid mistakes not covered in class. However, it was us older cats—me being one of the most ancient still able…

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Time for another Throwback Thursday post! Let’s revisit a post from the A to Z Blog Challenge: Crush!

Deep in research

Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

Deep in research

I watched out of the corner of my eye as he walked into study hall and casually approached the teacher. He was late. He had an easy-going manner, a suaveness that made me nervous when I was around him. Zander Bloodworth was roughly six feet tall, muscular, but not bulky. He had shoulder length dread locs, and skin the color of dark chocolate.  His eyes were bright, as was his smile. He must floss religiously. His teeth were white and even. Zander leaned against Mrs. Drake’s desk and said something softly that elicited a school-girl giggle from her. He was a skilled flirt. He offered her a charming smile and a wink and turned towards the class to find a seat.

Every female student looked up, eagerly willing him to make eye contact with her. Every male in the classroom watched the Master and took notes. They wanted to be like…

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Instead of posting the usual #FlashFictionFriday piece, I’ve decided to post a poem for Domestic Violence Awareness Month.  This piece is a continuation of the #WhyIStayed hashtag discussion that was started on Twitter last month.  You can read my piece “Why I Stayed,” here.

Photograph: Johner Images / Alamy/Alamy As seen on: http://www.theguardian.com/money/2013/apr/27/save-money-holiday-costs

Why I Left

Because I was tired of being controlled and manipulated

Because I was tired being told I was crazy

Because I was tired of being told I didn’t measure up

Because he wouldn’t, didn’t protect my heart

Because being alone in the world no longer mattered,

Especially since I was so alone in my relationship.

Because the love was clearly one-sided.

Because I learned how to love myself more.

Because my child didn’t need to witness another fight.

Because I caught a glimpse of my strength

And his weakness was exposed.

Because it was time for me to go.

If you are a victim of Domestic Violence or know someone who needs help, visit http://www.thehotline.org/  or call 1-800-799-7233 | 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)



Ahhhhhh…..Rico! Tough-guy! There is so much more to his story. I can’t wait to tell you the rest! But for now, enjoy this Throwback Thursday piece! :D

© Copyright 2010 CorbisCorporation

Originally posted on Nikewrites Blog:

© Copyright 2010 CorbisCorporation

Jericho laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound.  His laughter dripped with pain and anger.

“He needs me? That’s not what he said when he threw me out!”

I really didn’t feel like participating in his bout of emotional constipation.  His bitterness was not my problem.

“Listen, Rico, you have to let that go.  He did what he did for your benefit. You probably wouldn’t have all of this if…”

“Cressida, don’t,” his said in a warning tone.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Rico! Own your mess! You made the choices that got your tail tossed out.”

“Own my mess? Own my mess? He did the same things I did, and worse, and tells those stories with great pride! He just didn’t get caught! He didn’t have to worry about his life being on public display because of who his daddy was. He wears his sins like a badge…

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My insomnia is at work again so…


Check out this web series on An Insomniac’s Dreams! Little Brother Wil is a FANTASTIC writer and supporter! Make sure you check out his links after the story. He’s shouting out the talents of fellow writers and artists! Thanks Wil! :D

Originally posted on An Insomniac's Dreams:

Here’s a little snippet of what I’ve been working on. Take a look and tell me what you think folks.


It was the late hours of the evening, and Jameson was lying in his bed listening to music. There was a knock on the door. Jameson glanced up. “Jameson,” came his father’s voice. “May I come in?”

“Sure, dad,” said Jameson.

Tom Smith opened the door to his son’s room. Tom looked like a mustached, middle aged version of his son—indeed, the thought that his father might be an accurate representation of himself in the future had caused Jameson to awake in a cold sweat on more than one night.

Tom glanced around the room at the various mystical accruements. “Nice décor…” he stated nervously.

Jameson nodded. “Thank you. I decided to give the Addams Family look a try…”

His father looked over at a bronze mirror. “That’s lying…

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I Am

Today’s Throwback Thursday piece is a poem from my book, Persistence of Vision. November will mark the 5 year anniversary of the publication of my book! How exciting! :D


I Am

“I am the miracle.”
Buddha quotes (Hindu Prince Gautama Siddharta, the founder of Buddhism, 563-483 B.C.)

I am the miracle
you left for dead,
the hope for the future
you tried to kill.
I am the rose
that grew in concrete.
I am the success
you could never achieve.
I am the life
you wish you could live.
I am the love
you will never know.
I am more
than the survivor you tried to slay.
I am
the fear in your eyes,
the trembling in your heart,
the quivering in your gut,
the secret you want forever quieted.
I am the conqueror
of your inflicted pain.


The Danger of the Single Story

Today’s #TBT post is a TedTalk video I posted about a year ago.  Chimamanda Adichie, author of “Half of A Yellow Sun,” talks about the danger of the single story. We have all believed in the single story at some point in our lives – even now, many of us believe the “single stories” we hear on the news or read in the papers. We believe the limited information, many times, turning the tale into a stereotype. We end up missing out on the “more” that exists in any given story.

She states, “The consequence of the single story is this: It robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar.”

Take a listen. What do you think about “the single story?” How dangerous do you think it is?