Category Archives: fiction

Friday Fictioneers: Magic

Today’s Music: Edwin Star – War

And if you can, please help out Merbear. Just click The “Save A…” link on the left..

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff Fields posts a photo, and challenges her readers to write 100 words (ish) inspired by the picture. This week’s picture is from D. Lovering at 40 Again, and it’s followed by a story exactly 100 words long, with a beginning, a middle and an end.
(I figured since it’s my first time, I should follow the rules.)
Click over to her site to read some other great entries, and maybe leave your own!

They entered the canopy and the air smelled cleaner, the laughter of children around the square louder and more vibrant.
The man in the suit turned to their guide.
“Odd decoration for the entrance to a missile defense, isn’t it?”
The guide smiled. “No entrance. This is it.” He whipped out a handgun, pointing it at the man, who barely had time to cringe before the trigger was pulled.
The bullet dribbled from the barrel, bouncing harmlessly off the pavement.
“H-how…?” sputtered the man in the suit.
“The magic of the Maypole”, answered the guide. “Don’t you believe in magic?

All criticism is welcome. Hell, since you’re reading, it’s in your interest to help me write better. 😉

Trifextra: Goin around, one last time.

Today’s Music: Yeah Yeah Yeahs – These Paths

And if you can, please click the pic under Give Merbear A Hand on the left and, well…give Merbear a hand.

After umpteen challenges and countless entries, I’ve gotten to read some incredible stuff. Despite only entering irregularly, it’s been an honor to be a member of the Trifecta Writing Challenge community.

After all the effort they’ve put in, and a great string of challenges either weekly or twice a week, the judges have decided to pack it in and leave before they lost their enthusiasm for it.
I wish them well, and to the rest of their writers, I look forward to seeing what you do next!

Here’s their Final Challenge:
we’re lovingly, and eagerly, placing the choice in your hands. There’s no topic, no word, just a free write. Go anywhere your mind wants to travel. Take us there too. Just make it count, leave your blood all over this page. Thirty-three words exactly.
Of course. We couldn’t end it any other way.

And here’s my last entry. Unless they start up again! (Thanks to polysyllabic profundities for getting me off my ass to contribute.)

Last Time Around
Thirty three…
How do you sum up something so rewarding so quickly?
Twenty one…
How do you thank and appreciate so concisely?
You write, and hope they understand how you feel.


Thank you Trifecta. It was a pleasure.

Trifecta – Gladiators

Today’s Music: Hayley Sales – Just Pretend
Note on Today’s Music: Once again, John Phillips turned me on to something I’m really enjoying. Hope you do too.
Days Til Spring: 51

I don’t usually post so frequently. Feel free to blame Trifecta for this one, a request for 33 words on this picture:


Thomas Leuthard
Click image for original

I saw her nearing the arena. This time I would be ready.
Her tennis whites gave an air of nonchalance. I cleared the table, stood.
“Checkers?” I asked.
She sat.
“To the death.”

And I thank you.

Guapo Playhouse Presents: Can You Hear Me Now?

Today’s Music: The Kids – Groenplaats
This piece is sponsored by The Belgian Society for Bored Students and the Belgium Department of Tourism.
Author note – I have absolutely no idea what people are named in Belgium.

Dramatis Personae
Ervina – A university age girl, spunky, with a variety of piercings
Ardralla – A university age girl, neat, straitlaced. She seeks adventure
Coralla – A university age girl, relaxed. Actually, she seems kind of bored.
Herbert – A professional ear-piercer, who looks like he learned by practicing on himself.

(The late winter Belgium sun shines through a glass plate, emblazoned with “Herbert’s Belgian Ear Piercing And Waffle Emporium”. Three girls sit at a table, talking across their plates laden with waffles and chocolate.
A waiter brings them another round of Belgian beer.)

Ardralla: Of course I’m going to do it. One little prick. How bad can it be? (She faces Ervina) you have plenty of them. Do they hurt?
Ervina: All of my piercings are significant. (She runs her hand across her face, fingering piercings as she speaks.) These were for the first men I loved. (She touches another) And this was for the first woman I loved.
(She touches a Belgian Flag stud pierced through her lower lip. She turns full-on to the audience, with a glowing smile.)
And this is the flag of our beloved Belgium – a great place to live, a great place to visit!
(Her teeth sparkle)
Coralla: (Yawning) Yawn.
Ardralla: (sighing) You’re so dramatic. You should post that little story.
Ervina: (grinning) Well, no blog intended, but my piercings tell the story of me and my life. (She flicks a gold waffle earring hanging from her ear and grins again.) And of course, our beloved Belgium, where we make over 800 different beers!
(Her teeth sparkle.)
Ardralla: (Looking out to the audience) Why do you keep doing that? Besides, I thought we were talking about me. Do you think Olaf Olafsoen will like me with an earring?
Ervina: (Smirking) Oh, Olaf loves the girls with earrings!
Coralla: (Yawning) Yawn.
Ardralla: (Rising angrily) Ervina, how could you? You know I like him!
(Ardralla reaches for the Belgian pastry, a gozette (delicious!) and prepares to throw it at Ervina.
Her arm is grabbed by HERBERT, the tattooed and pierced professional whose shop this is.)

Herbert:(His voice comes out as a lisp, a side effect of the 72 tongue piercings he has, and nerve damage to his face from the Belgian flag tattooed on his cheek.) It would be a shame to waste that turnover, my dear. (He turns to the audience) The gozette is one of our local delicacies, renowned for its deliciousness! (turning back to Ardralla) I understand you’re here for a piercing?
Coralla: (Yawning) Yawn.
Exit stage right

Interior, Piercing/Tattoo parlor.
(Herbert finishes another Belgian made beer and exhales, satisfied. The mug joins many others on a crowded table. Ardralla watches him from the chair.)
Herbert: Ok, let’s get this done.
(He reaches for his tools and turns to Ardralla, just as Ervina rushes in.)
Ervina: Wait- I love Olaf!
(Ardralla shrieks as Herbert stumbles. The lights fade. Ardralla shrieks again.)

(The girls are sitting on a bench in front of the famous Little Boy Peeing fountain. Ervina’s mascara has run from crying. Ardralla has a large bump on her shoulder under her shirt. Corvalla looks bored.)
Ervina: I’m so so sorry…
Ardralla: I have to wait three weeks to take this off so it doesn’t get infected! I can’t believe you thought drunken Herbert was a great piercing artist!
Ervina: Well it doesn’t look that bad. Can I see?
Ardralla: (Ripping her shirt open) HE PIERCED MY SHOULDER! (She turns to the audience, gesturing at the stud.) But it is a tasteful representation of Tintin, one of Belgiums most famous characters!
(Her teeth sparkle.)
Coralla: (Yawning) Yawn.

The curtain falls.

Trifecta: Death Takes A Holiday – Part 2

Today’s Music: Cutting Crew – I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight
Note On Today’s Music: Hey, if you’re gonna go with a cheesy story, you should have a cheesy song to match…

This is not a link back to Reapers With Issues, or the accompanying limerick.
No, this is a completely different link!

This week, the finely fettled folks at Trifecta picked the third definition of the word Death
(3 capitalized : the destroyer of life represented usually as a skeleton with a scythe).

And to make it even M O R E, this also links up with the gloriously fabulous AccordingToMags (Part 1), and the fabulously glorious OldDogNewTits (Part 3) for parts one and three.
Each stands well alone, all three fit well together. (like a trifecta!)(see what I did there?)(hehehe)

So start there, come here, then finish off the triad, as Death takes a holiday! (Or at least tries to…)

Death Takes A Holiday – Part 2

The tall gaunt figure strode across the beach, pale skin reflecting more than his garish teal and orange shorts. Others pulled back, clearing a path for him and his companions to the beachfront.
One companion followed, carrying a large cooler. He showed no discomfort under his robe, snapping gum excitedly with each step. The other companion lagged, his overweight body sweating profusely in the sun.
“Here” boomed the leader, pointing a bony finger.
“You got it Boss”, said the second, snapping his gum.
The first sighed. “It’s our day off, Nausea. No need to call me Boss.”
“Sorry boss”, said Nausea, settling the cooler.

“I got it!” shouted the third. “’I got the motive which is money, and the body which is dead!’ Bet you don’t know that one”.
The gaunt one smiled, a ghastly display of moldy recessed teeth. “In The Heat Of The Night.” He chuckled, a cavernous echoing sound. “Good try, George.”
George laughed. “I’ll stump you one day.”

The cadaverous fellow grinned, pulling out stacks of wood. He twisted and bent, unfolding them against their hinges to form three beautiful Adirondack chairs, which he and his companions fell into with sighs.
“You make these, boss?” asked Nausea, gum snapping.
”Well, carpentry is a hobby. It relieves stress.”
George said “You should see the stuff he made for my Accounting Office!”
They opened the cooler, enjoying cold drinks, snacks, conversation, until a scream disturbed them.

“Oh god!” shrieked a woman. “Harry! My god, he’s had a heart attack!” she wailed over the prone man beside her.
Nausea squinted at the vague outline of a spirit rising slowly. “No rest for guys like us, huh boss?” he asked, rising. His boss reached out, nudging Nausea into his chair. His other hand rose towards the spirit, clenched, and slammed down.
The spirit jerked back into its vessel. Harry coughed, sputtered, and sat up to stare at the trio.

The gaunt man settled in his chair, popping another beer.
“Death is off today.”

Trifecta – Alley Confusion

Today’s Music: V V Brown – Shark In The Water
Note on Today’s Music: The rest of her album is good, and not near as pop-ie as this. But the chorus got stuck in my head, so hear it is.

This is a response to this weeks Trifecta Challenge. It plays with a theme that keeps rattling around in my head, but I haven’t figured out how to develop it. Yet.

Oh, and to the judges, I used the definition for the challenge almost exactly. hehehe.
Hope y’all enjoy it.

Wait – What?!?

Everything – every piece of fiction, even an inkling of an idea – that’s written creates a world. Bright sunny spaces, dark foreboding places, and everything in between.
I like the ideas best. It leaves us, those that populate these worlds, a lot more leeway to interpret and develop them.
Sometimes, magic can happen.
And sometimes…not.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?”
I wore my gardening apron that says “Dig It!” in bright letters. I had my toolbelt – mini-spade, a bottle of plant food in water, and a short stake to hold the bloom off the ground until she got settled.
My compatriot was not dressed for gardening.
The boots weren’t flashy. They were tough, well worn. The motorcycle jacket fit like a coat of armor, the leather of his waist holster matching the leather of the twin shoulder holsters he wore.
The twilight reflected off the long knife strapped to his hip.

“Man”, I said, “That metal’s gonna rust while we’re planting in the valley”.
He looked confused. “What valley?”
“Didn’t you read the challenge idea he wrote?” I’m going to plant a Lily.”
His palm smacked his forehead. “Can’t. You. Read?” he asked slowly, through clenched teeth. “This isn’t a fun summer outing. We’re going to be dodging bullets, hiding behind dumpsters in cramped spaces.”
“But we agreed”, I answered. “We both said we should go with Lily for the challenge”. I held up my potted plant. “I took Lily, the word and came up with Lily of the Valley!”, I finished, grinning.

He sighed, squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he whipped out his smart phone, tapped the screen and held it up to me.
3: a narrow street through the middle of a block giving access to the rear of lots or buildings

“Nooo”, he said even slower. “We’re rescuing Lily from the ALLEY!”

I looked down at my plant, my apron.
He nodded.
“Rats too?”


Storie Game – 600 Words of Romance

Today’s Music: Scorpions – Rock You Like A Hurricane
Days Til Spring: 10
Vina’s Storie Book (Romance Edition) Challenge is underway. click for the Rules and Part 1
Hobbler contributed Part 2

Just a quick note – I don’t really write Romance. After reading the below, I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.

So be it.
I tightened the leather armor around my broad, muscled chest. I drew my sword, stepping out from behind the jagged up thrust rock.
“Behold”, I announced, “I have come for my beloved.”
The tip of my sword spun decisively to the two craven fools holding her. I advanced upon them, as, sneering, they drew their weapons.
Hope cried out form within her cage – “My love!”
Was there fear in her quavering voice? I looked away from my opponents to take in her gorgeous visage, her locks of flaming red, the heaving of her bosom. The sight of her sweat besmirched décolletage, and the sadness and terror on her wide, engulfing eyes only spurred me to greater anger.
I raised my sword up high.
“Father” I bellowed. “Show yourself!”
The two guardsmen rushed at me. I dispatched one instantly with one shrewd flick of my wrist, my lean, sweat glistening limbs completing their appointed task..
His companion was more of a challenge.
We circled each other, the swarthy inner province man, his long dark hair swaying in waves as the moonlight glistened down upon us.
His eyes caught the light – glinting savagely, hungrily at me. I watched his body as his strong frame clenched, relaxed, clenched.
I found myself growing more tense as I watched for signs of what he would do, studying his handsome figure.
He came towards me, slowly.
For a moment, I was stunned, rooted to my spot by the power of his gaze.
What is this I was experiencing? What feelings were these as I imagined I could feel his hot, intamed breath against my soft cerulean skin?
I jerked my head, snapping out of it as he closed upon me.
Our swords clashed, each fighting for mastery over the other. Thrust, parry, recoil. Counterstrike.
A fluid, vital ballet, a dance with meanings layered within layers.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, taunting me. “Is this what love is to you? Giving your life for a woman?- I mean, a woman so easily captured?”
He stopped, unsure for a moment. My bare hand slapped at his free arm, grazing the wiry curls of hair draped on his arm. I seized his shoulder, spinning him around and coming up behind him, my arm sliding it’s sinewy way under his neck to press his back against my chest.
I heard Hope gasp. Turning to her, I saw her dainty hand covering the small moue of her raspberry red lips. The cage hadn’t been locked, and she surged out of it, her dress catching and ripping, leaving her alabaster legs exposed.
She ran over to me, fitting herself to me, under my sword arm.
She buried her head against me, the soft sound of tears muffled by the leather.
I felt my opponent writhe, seeking purchase and freedom, but I continued to overpower him. The three of us stood, our musky scents intertwining, rolling over each other.
I leaned even closer to the enemy, my hot breath on his ear.
“Where is my father?”
He stiffened, an involuntary reaction, But I felt it, his being betrayed by his own biology. I savored the moment of strength and control, the thrill of him answering to my will.
I leaned even closer, our sweat intermingling as I continued the moment of dominating intimacy.
“I’ll not ask again” I whispered, watching the thick locks of ear hair way in my breath.
Hope wriggled out from between us, her small, firm buttocks grinding against me as she escaped the overwhelming aroma of maleness.
She drew my dagger from my belt…

Part 4 is being handed off to Gillian Colbert.