Invite #AtoZchallenge #ShortStory #AdForRoomatesStory #Paranormal #UrbanFantasy

This month-long story, “Ad for Roommates,” told in twenty-six parts, is an urban fantasy intended for readers over age fifteen. Liv, the main character, is an adult in her thirties. This is a prequel to a forthcoming book and my theme for the #AtoZchallenge. To meet another character from from this story world, visit the (adult) blog of co-host Jayden R Vincente.



The doorbell rings, waking me up. My heavy left eyelid pries open, glancing at the clock. It’s a quarter to midnight. Who the hell would ring the bell at this time of night? I check my phone.

“Ahh! Bright,” I cry to myself as the phone blinds me. No missed calls. No messages. I check social media messages, but there’s nothing there. Maybe they have the wrong house.

Then there’s a knock at my back door. My bedroom is downstairs, in the library I converted so as to avoid the steps. So the knock sounds like it’s just outside my bedroom door.

“Catty!” I scream as I roll out of bed. I test my ability to stand. Pain shoots through my hip, causing me to fall back on the mattress. My young wendigo is at my side by the time I’m in my wheelchair. I tie the belt of my robe before rolling to the back door.

The young wendigo stands at the ready as I crack the sliding door open. “Yes?”

“So sorry to bother you at this hour. May I come in?”

I stare at the stranger. He’s mostly in the shadows. I can make out the tip of his nose. He’s wearing a long jacket, probably a black trench coat.

“Do we know each other?” I don’t move from my spot or take my hand off the door handle.

“We will know each other very well soon enough. Invite me in.”

“No.”

He leans closer. Silver eyes, unnatural for a human, glare at me. It’s a penetrating gaze. As if he’s a tiger and I am his prey. “Invite me in.”

“No. And don’t think your stare down is making the request more appealing. Leave this place and never return, or it will be your death.” There. I’ve warned him. That’s as nice as I’ll be to a stranger at this hour.

He swipes his hand over his eyes. They brighten as he leans closer. “I said invite me in.”

“Catty, dinner.” I roll back just enough for the young wendigo to get between myself and the door. His pointy, overbite teeth glisten in the moonlight. Claws as sharp as obsidian blades extend toward the midnight caller.

“You keep a wendigo?” Where normal people would run screaming, and rightfully so, the stranger kneels down for a closer look.

“How do you know what he is? And why are you foolish enough to bring your jugular closer?”

The stranger offers his hand to Catty, allowing my young wendigo to sniff him before petting. “I am called Judah. You have befriended this creature. I take it you know what he is? You are not blind or suffering from a mental impairment?”

“My young wendigo isn’t even the strangest creature in this house. And no, I’m not blind, and my mental facilities are in place. Though I’m talking to a stranger at my door around midnight. So I might be dreaming. And the fact that Catty hasn’t killed you yet is kinda blowing my mind.”

“If you would be so kind as to invite me in, I would explain gladly. On my honor, no harm will come to you or yours while in my presence. It would be too great a loss for this world to be deprived of someone who keeps company with a wendigo, even a young one. And I would love to meet your other creatures.”

*** 569 words

Tenth Anniversary of the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge bloghop.

Horrible Kisser #AtoZchallenge #ShortStory #AdForRoomatesStory #LGBTQIA+ #UrbanFantasy

This month-long story, “Ad for Roommates,” told in twenty-six parts, is an urban fantasy intended for readers over age fifteen. Liv, the main character, is an adult in her thirties. This is a prequel to a forthcoming book and my theme for the #AtoZchallenge. To meet another character from from this story world, visit the (adult) blog of co-host Jayden R Vincente.



Eunice leans closer. I think an even bigger secret is coming. Not sure I want to know. Then her lips are on mine. She parts them, her whole mouth engulfing my lips. Her tongue slides up my nose.

And I remember why I never tried to get back with Eunice. She’s a horrible kisser. Not just bad, but in a huge turn-off kind of way. For me, at least. I pull back.

“I can’t. Eunice, I’m sorry. Too much grief.” I lie. Her lip quivers.

“What if I spent our summer getting to know my dad? I mean, I don’t regret us. Really, it was wonderful.” No, it wasn’t. I was having fun and she let me explore. I was her first for a lot of intimate steps. And it was with her that I first ventured to third base. President Clinton made it clear that it’s not a home run. Ah, the good old days, when that was the biggest controversy.

I lean my head against her neck. Could I put up with bad kissing? I remember the way she trembled under my touch. The desire in her voice when she begged me not to stop. How she arched against me under the stars.

But when our clothes were on? We didn’t have much in common. I don’t think she liked me as a person. Then again, maybe we never knew each other. Just who our parents and teachers were trying to make us become. We were young and stupid.

“Can I at least give you my number? Maybe when you’re more at peace. Or if there’s a dark night and you don’t want to be in the woods alone, but can’t miss an eclipse.”

“The Fourth of June, back in ninety-three. I was only fourteen.” I laugh, moving my head from her shoulder as I sit upright.

“You said you were fifteen.”

I laugh. “Actually, I said I’d be sixteen soon. And yeah, twenty-two months later, I did turn sixteen.”

We both laugh. She holds up a napkin and asks if I have a pen. I pull out my phone.

“Just put it in here. I can’t promise anything. I’m really not ready for, well, anything right now. It wouldn’t be fair to you to pretend otherwise.”

Eunice does some quick tapping. Then she takes a selfie. A few more taps and she’s finished. She puts her finger to my lips. Our gazes lock as she eases the zipper on my hoodie down a few clicks. Her fingernails float along my v-neck. She sucks on her lower lip as she eases my phone into my bra.

“I’m not the same girl who only wants to receive and isn’t ready to give. Hopefully, you’ll give me a chance to prove that to you.” She kisses under my earlobe. Then nips the soft patch of skin behind my ear, making me ache. And then she leaves, taking our tray of empties with her.

Maybe I will call her. Should probably get roommates first though. Don’t want her getting ideas about moving in. I really don’t want that kind of commitment. And I don’t think she could ever be ready to meet the creatures I live with. I’m not sure she’d even believe I’m psychic.

*** 544 words

Tenth Anniversary of the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge bloghop.

Grief #AtoZchallenge #ShortStory #AdForRoomatesStory #LGBTQIA+ #UrbanFantasy

This month-long story, “Ad for Roommates,” told in twenty-six parts, is an urban fantasy intended for readers over age fifteen. Liv, the main character, is an adult in her thirties. This is a prequel to a forthcoming book and my theme for the #AtoZchallenge. To meet another character from from this story world, visit the (adult) blog of co-host Jayden R Vincente.



“Divorce?”

“Yeah. For the best. He never, well, I,” Eunice bites her lip. “You gave me my only big O.”

“Oh. Wow.” Not just the only girl experience she’s had.

This is not how I saw today going. Or ever, really. Who discusses this over salad? As if I don’t have enough abnormal in my life. Chatting with ghosts, caring for paranormal creatures, and now being my ex’s fantasy.

“So, how about you? End up with someone?” She takes a bite of salad and then stares at her cup.

I know this is a loaded question. She’s hoping for a hookup. There’s no way I can live up to the memory of who I once was. “Honestly, it has been awhile. Just haven’t been in that headspace, you know?”

“Sure. Though, they say it can help to process grief.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I just haven’t wanted to. Plus I didn’t bring dating clothing.” Okay, now I’m lying. Everything I own is at dad’s place. My place. The house.

Eunice reaches over to toy with my hoodie string. “You were the only girl I knew our age to have sexy underwear. I remember wondering how you got your mom to buy it for you. Took a few years to figure out that you were allowed to shop for yourself. You still have that under this?”

“Well, I mean, yeah. I like lace and satin.” And other things, but I’m not mentioning that right now. Not in a salad place.

“That spot in the woods is still there. Kids don’t venture to it anymore. But I still take walks out that way. The path is worn enough, I bet I could get you there.” She puts her hand on my knee.

“I, umm, I’m not sure about a trip to the forest.”

She tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Anywhere. Really. My place has a lot of steps though.”

“Your place. Right. Because you would have your own place since you got divorced.” Dumb. My brain is getting dumb. It has been ages since I’ve been on a date. Wait. This isn’t a date. Is it? She’s not asking me for a second date, right? Oh crap.

Eunice smiles as she strokes my ear. “Look, we’re both going through stuff. Obviously, neither of us is ready for some epic romance. But what are the odds we’d both grab a salad today? The universe has given us a chance for a fun night. Why not take it?”

“Yeah. But, Eunice, am I really the only girl you hooked up with? I don’t want to hurt you, or have you feeling confused.”

She shrugs. “One girl. One guy. One mostly good experience. One mostly bad one. Not much to be confused about.”

“I don’t want to be a rebound.” Then again, that might be fast and easy. No. Bad Liv, bad.

Eunice laughs. “Pretty sure Fynn was the rebound. And not a worthy one. Look, I can’t say I ever got over you. And, yeah, you’ve been my fantasy for years. Which has been a problem at confession. To the point that I stopped going. I got tired of feeling guilty all the time for the only experience that ever made me feel good. You’re better than anti-depressants.”

“Oh, wow. That’s, wow.” Danger. Danger. Roll away!

*** 554 words
Tenth Anniversary of the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge bloghop.

Vaccines

*This is a Sunday ramble. Not part of the A to Z challenge. I sometimes rant on my blog because it is my safe space to do so.


There are outbreaks of preventable diseases left and right. Preventable, not very treatable. And once it breaks out, it mutates, so the prevention stops working.

I believe the science behind it is like...

If you got all the dogs (for example) onto a ranch. They're contained and can't make puppies. Maybe one or two out there, but they can't breed either, so it's okay. Then someone knocks out the fence and 20% of the dogs get out. Young ones not fixed yet. And they breed with wolves. Cyber-genetically enhanced ones. So now you don't just have dogs to contain, you've got wolves. And people cry wolf but others are all, "stop crying wolf," and then more dogs get out and make more wolves. Then the super wolves eat everyone.

Except dogs and wolves don't actually do this. A virus, however, is a super breeder that exists to evolve and destroy, so it absolutely does this.
And that's why they needed as many people as possible to be vaccinated, because the problem could only escalate if it got out. Well, it got out. And the pharmaceutical companies are gonna make SO MUCH MONEY. Vaccines were selling well. But this is creating a whole new need. Like the twist in the "Promised Land" movie with Matt Damon.

Hopefully the outbreaks this year will be enough to stop the antivaxxers. It's literally a question of  "how many people have to die?"

Yes, there are always some people who really can't have a vaccine. But the point is the others do get them and we protect each other. We live as a society or we die in mass numbers. 😔

This is why education is so important. Knowledge is the only weapon against herd mentality.

Frisée Fresh #AtoZchallenge #ShortStory #AdForRoomatesStory #LGBTQIA+ #UrbanFantasy

This month-long story, “Ad for Roommates,” told in twenty-six parts, is an urban fantasy intended for readers over age fifteen. Liv, the main character, is an adult in her thirties. This is a prequel to a forthcoming book and my theme for the #AtoZchallenge. To meet another character from from this story world, visit the (adult) blog of co-host Jayden R Vincente.



“So far? I’ve hung my roommate flyers at an adult shop and my favorite coffee house. And a new friend who works at a tattoo parlor took one.”

“Perhaps a store that sells objects like tarot cards and crystals?” Dr. Patel suggests.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea. The Wiccan community is generally more open. We should put a discussion about religion on the books for future sessions, if you think you’re up to the task.”

She smiles. “You may be misjudging how much I might believe in your so-called other reality. Perhaps we’ll work on that as well, hmm?”

“Are you saying you don’t want to lock me away for chatting with ghosts?”

“People have done that for thousands of years. Why should I deny you the right to speak with the ancestors?”

I leave her office with an appointment card for next week. Maybe Dr. Patel will work out as a therapist.

Frisée Fresh, a salad restaurant, is across the street. My wallet says no, but my stomach says it’s a non-negotiable yes.

“Liv?” I hear as I roll inside. This chair makes it impossible to get through a non-automatic door unnoticed. It’s Eunice, a girl I dated briefly when we were teens.

“Hey! Long time, no see. How have you been?” I roll in line behind her.

“Doing well. Just started a new job as a receptionist. You?”

I contemplate what to tell her. Her head tilts and her eyes start to narrow, as if she’s expecting me to lie. So I frown and say, “My dad died recently. I’m handling his estate and whatnot.”

Her eyes go wide. “I didn’t expect that. I’m so sorry. How did he die?”

I shake my head. “It was sudden and unexpected. You’re up.”

“What?” She takes a step back. The guy behind the counter clears his throat. “Oh! To order. Right. Yes.”

Ah, she does remember me. It was a strained relationship. Eunice was always trying to get me to go to confession. Wanted me to be a good Catholic and give up who I am. Just pretend that reality isn’t there. Pray it away or something. I don’t know.

I note how short and tight her skirt is. Maybe she’s changed? Her top half has certainly filled in. She was barely a B cup when we dated, but now—

“Liv?” I feel my face redden as Eunice pulls me back into the moment.

“Hmm?”

“What are you ordering? I’m buying.”

“Oh. Thanks. You don’t have to.” I smile.

“Your dad died. I can buy you a meal. What’ll it be?”

I order a salad that mixes fruits and nuts with the lettuce and veggies. Eunice carries the tray with our meals and cups to a table near the back. She moves a chair out of the way for me.

“Just grabbing our drinks. Be right back!”

I was going to have water. But she returns with two cups of soda. It’s fine.

“Cherry Peppers! Haven’t had this in years. Remember, Liv?”

“Yeah, I haven’t mixed soda flavors since high school.” I take a sip, expecting it to be disgusting. It isn’t. It tastes like my childhood. As I lick my lips, Eunice laughs.

“I remember that tongue. Has it been used for something other than getting drops of soda off your lips?” She smiles and takes a bite of her salad.

Blushing, I look around to make sure there aren’t children in earshot. “Wow. Umm, yeah, I’ve used it since high school.”

“Since our brief summer. Are you going to be in town long?”

I shrug and chew a bite of salad before answering. “This was my dad’s neighborhood. He chose this place over my mom and I. There are roads that would have been his shortcuts. Places he had a usual at. Not chains like this place, but local restaurants and bars. His history, his life, it’s all here. Since we were never close, I guess I’m taking some time now to get to know him. You know, to say goodbye better.”

She nods. “Guess you two never became close. I remember that summer that you said you were just spending time doing anything but being around him. Sorry. Is it wrong to mention it?”

“No. That’s just the past.” I rub the bridge of my nose.

She smiles. “One where a spin-the-bottle game resulted in my only girl on girl experience.”

“Only one?” I shove a large bite into my mouth. The danger bell goes off in my head.

“Yeah, well, you know. There weren’t other girls like you around. I ended up with Fynn Flanders for a few years.” She taps the vacant finger on her left hand. There’s a fading dent on her skin where a ring once rested.

*** 794words

Tenth Anniversary of the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge bloghop.

Exotic Animals #AtoZchallenge #ShortStory #AdForRoomatesStory #Paranormal #UrbanFantasy

This month-long story, “Ad for Roommates,” told in twenty-six parts, is an urban fantasy intended for readers over age fifteen. Liv, the main character, is an adult in her thirties. This is a prequel to a forthcoming book and my theme for the #AtoZchallenge. To meet another character from from this story world, visit the (adult) blog of co-host Jayden R Vincente.



“Okay. What is it that you’re doing?” Dr. Patel folds her hands together.

“I inherited my father’s home. The taxes are expensive. But I don’t really need the second floor or most of the basement. So I’m planning to rent those.” I pull a flyer out of my hoodie pocket, along with my business card. She probably doesn’t need a psychic reading, but maybe it’ll help her take me seriously.

“You see, I’ve only ever lived with my mother. I kind of stayed with dad a few times, but we avoided one another. When I was in college, I had a place to myself. And I’ve lived in apartments since then. I’ve had friends who crashed for a week or just short of a month. But I’m in my mid-thirties and I’ve never lived with someone by choice. Just me and my… uh, let’s call them pets.”

“Exotic animals?”

“Yeah.” Lying to a therapist. Nothing new. I look at the soft throw pillows on her couch. Be great to hug one right about now. “And the ghost of my dad is there for now.”

“Is having his ghost there important to you?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. She didn’t tell me there are no ghosts. That’s something. “No. Helping him to pass on is important to me. But he has issues to resolve. That’s something you should be able to understand, I would think. Our jobs have some common ground. That might offend you, and I’m sorry if it does. But we’re both in the business of helping people to deal with their issues so they can get on to handling whatever’s next. The big difference is that you probably delve more into that whatever’s next part. Whereas both ghosts and their loved ones only briefly need me.”

“Well then. What would you tell you about your current dilemma?”

“Doc, if I knew that, I wouldn’t shell out a co-pay to be here. I can handle the dead. And misunderstood supernatural creatures? No problem. Love them. But other humans?”

“Creatures? You mean your pets?”

Shit. I close my eyes for a moment. “You and I live in different worlds. Our realities intersect. But where I am fully aware of yours, you chose to ignore mine. It’s a choice you make over and over. Every bump in the night you dismiss. Every shadow that moves as it shouldn’t. Animals changing direction or growling at what you call nothing. Not to mention all the unexplained accidents and missing items.”

I open my eyes and glare at her, allowing a grin to spread along my face. I know what goes bump in the night. One lives with me. I call him Caddy. He’s young, so he mostly eats small creatures. But he’ll grow into something large that people don’t believe in soon enough. None of this is something I’ll tell her. One day, Caddy will likely be responsible for a string of missing persons. My hope is they’ll be the worst sort of people. Or perhaps people who are dying and wish to be saved from misery, torment, and enormous hospital bills that would bankrupt their heirs.

“You won’t believe in any of that. I’m not asking you to. Though, if you care to come over, I can ruin your life by showing you the truth. That offer stands. In the event you ever think to tell me I’m delusional, I will prove I’m not. And then you’ll quit your job and move far away. It has happened before.”

“I see.” She uncrosses her legs and looks at the clock.

“Our time is almost up for today, isn’t it? I came in with just one question, and we’ve gotten nowhere.” Waste of money that I don’t have.

“You say that if I come over it will ruin my life. Yet you intended to have two other people move in with you?”

I shrug. “That’s another part of the problem. I have to find the right sort of people. Ones who are like me, or are aware of this side of reality. Believers.”

“Did you come here hoping I would know some? I can’t share patient information. You must know that.”

“No. Of course you can’t. Though I do wonder if I’ve worded my ad well enough.”

“Perhaps add a line that you feel suits you. Acceptance of the other reality, maybe. The monsters icon might be making your ad look like a meme, a joke.” She runs her fingers along the tight bun of her thick, raven hair.

“Weird not just welcome, but required?”

“If you feel that description is accurate. Where are you hanging these?”

*** 775 words

Tenth Anniversary of the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge bloghop.

Doc #AtoZchallenge #MentalHealth #AdForRoomatesStory #Paranormal #UrbanFantasy

This month-long story, “Ad for Roommates,” told in twenty-six parts, is an urban fantasy intended for readers over age fifteen. Liv, the main character, is an adult in her thirties. This is a prequel to a forthcoming book and my theme for the #AtoZchallenge. To meet another character from from this story world, visit the (adult) blog of co-host Jayden R Vincente.



The very idea of seeing another therapist has me in the lavatory wiping cold sweat from my face. I considering vomiting. My phone dings, reminding me that the appointment is in five minutes. I’m here, I’m signed in. But I’m hiding in the lavatory instead of the waiting room. I hate those waiting rooms.

Mushroom risotto. It took a lot of time and energy to prepare. And, though it tasted great going down, it’d be horrible coming up. Would probably get caught in my teeth. I don’t have enough time to vomit and brush my teeth. So, there it is. I can’t vomit because I don’t have time.

My stomach is less convinced. It doesn’t care for logic. Asking a therapist for help is hard enough, I won’t add on bad breath. I wheel to the sink, wash my hands, and check my makeup. It’s just some eyeliner and lipgloss. No harm done. I head to the evil waiting room.

“Liv Good?” A woman who could easily be a plus-sized model smiles at me.

“That’s me. I like your glasses.” Copper and purple are swirled together along the frame. The rims have sparkling gems, probably cubic zirconia.

“Thank you. Come with me, please.” I follow her to an office and park next to a couch.

She sits in what looks like a very expensive swivel chair and crosses her legs. “I’m Dr. Patel. You may call me that, or Doc, or Doctor, or Deepanwita if you can pronounce it. Is it Liv or Olivia?”

“It’s Liv. It’s Norwegian. And I know what it’s like to have people mess up your name.”

“Liv Good? People have trouble saying that?” She presses her pen to a notepad.

“No. My dad. His surname is Skjeggestad. He wants me to change my name to that. But I prefer my mom’s name. I think you can understand why.”

She nods. “Is that what brings you in?”

“My dad, in general, yeah. I mean, that’s not my biggest problem.” I motion to the chair. “The hip and spine arthritis, dealing with that, obviously is my biggest issue.”

“Why do you say that it is obvious?”

“Because you can see it? It’s an inconvenience to myself and others.” I bite my tongue. Here comes the lecture.

I wait. But she just smiles.

“Okay. I know I’m not supposed to call myself an inconvenience. But because of me, and people like me, there have to be special bathrooms and curbs with ramps and reserved parking spaces. Plus, the chair takes up space. It gets stuck in the rain and snow. If I do things that others consider normal or fun, I become an annoyance. I’m in the way. And it’s proof that I’m not taking care of myself. Then I become a burden to others. They end up having to take care of me.”

“You think people aren’t interested in taking care of one another?”

I stare at her. “Not really. Maybe some of them, if they have time. But on the whole, no.”

She nods.

“I see it when I go shopping. People wish I wasn’t there. And imply that maybe I should just stick with home delivery. Pay for the service. But I like seeing what’s at the store, comparing prices and finding sales. More than that, I like to pick my own produce.”

She smiles again. I’ve said way too much. And haven’t touched on my ad for roommates or the paranormal creatures in my home. “None of this is what I’ve come to talk about. I just want to know if I’m crazy… wait, no, not crazy. I mean, I’m doing something and I need to know if I’m doing the right thing. Or if there’s a downside of which I’m not considering.”

***629 words

Tenth Anniversary of the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge bloghop.