Out of the Question #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.



Dad’s ghost goes past again, grumbling about the rearranged furniture in the living room. Nancy shutters, feeling the cold of his form.

“Is that where the draft is coming from? Well, don’t you worry about that. The first month of rent can go toward fixing it up. We’ll call it a trade. Did you figure out what the good news is yet?”

“Get out. I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to work. You won’t like living here.”

“Oh, I can get along anywhere. You’ll see. In a week or two, we’ll be right as rain.”

This better not cost me Maisy as a client. “No. In a day or two, you’ll be reported missing. But really, you’ll be dead. This place isn’t safe for you.”

She shakes her head. “Is the damage all that bad? Look, I’ll call an inspector and a contractor and we’ll get on track.”

“I have a contractor. He helped dig a few of the graves outback. Leave before you land in one.” Okay, I don’t really have graves dug. But she needs to go.

“I like you, Liv. A real riot. What’s over here?” She heads past the dining room.

“Stop! That door leads to my office. My work. I can’t have you in there. Insurance reasons.” There’s a pantry and the stairs to the basement between the door she’s at and the door to my office. But she doesn’t need to know that. And since I haven’t figured out what all my new friend in the shadows there eats, it’s best not to make an offering.

Then again, it’d solve my problem.

She turns around and heads down the hall toward the back door.

“How do you keep your lawn so well-maintained? Do you have a ride on mower or have you hired a lawn service?”

Poor Nancy. She’s not the roommate for me. And I’m running out of polite ways to tell her to get out of my house.

I take a long, slow deep breath as I contemplate how best to answer her question. The real way is, of course, that I adopted a xanntace. It’s one of the more adorable creatures. Spends most of the time curled up, looking like an opal gazing ball. Though it could be mistaken for a white bowling ball with too many holes. Because a xanntace is covered in nostrils. Their sinus cavity runs all over their body, which allows them to breathe easily while rolling around. It isn’t as if they have arms or legs. Maybe that’s why they aren’t loved? Mistaken for snakes, even though they’re round, not oblong like serpents.

“Nancy? I really can’t rent a space to you. It’s out of the question. I appreciate you coming by. And I’m grateful that Maisy thought to share my flyer with you.”

She sighs. “He has risen. And I think you need to learn about the teachings. Then maybe you would be more thankful and polite when someone shows up at your door looking for a home.”

“Out. Of. The. Question.” I point toward the front door. She doesn’t know it, but I’m saving her life.

“Liv? What are you pointing at?” I hear Dad ask.

“Nothing. Just an intruder I’m trying to see out.”

“An intruder? Where! You should fight them off!”

“Yeah. I’ll get right on that.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Nancy tilts her head.

“No, a ghost. Told you there’s one here. Sometimes more. And various monsters as well. I won’t tolerate being told that I’m going to Hell. I’m not changing my profession or hiding who I am to make you or anyone else comfortable. There will be no burning at the stake or drowning or what have you. Which is all too common with people who ask me if I’ve heard good news. I won’t be part of a religion that can’t tolerate me as living and existing. No matter how much I might want to believe, I won’t be hated. Now get out.”

Nancy pulls a monogrammed handkerchief from her purse and dabs her eyes. “I really feel you need me. Your soul needs to be saved!”

I shake my head. "Do not turn to mediums or seek out spiritists, for you will be defiled by them. Leviticus. See, you can’t live with me. I’ll defile you. We’re a terrible match. I don’t know why Maisy thought otherwise.”

“Perhaps she sent me to help you?”

“No. More likely she doesn’t know that your beliefs will always keep us apart. At worse, I’m your enemy. At best, I have to live a lie to please you. That won’t happen. Thanks for coming. Goodbye.”

*** 775 words

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

Nancy #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.



After Maisy has gotten her fill of answers from her dearly departed neighbor Grace, she finishes her tea and rises to leave.

“Oh, and about that roommate. A woman in my garden club has a daughter fresh out of college looking for a place to live. I’ll get your flyer to her. The name is Nancy Goodwynn. Now then, that should be easy for you to remember. Like your surname, Good, but with wynn on the end. W-y-n-n, not w-i-n, mind you. I’m meeting the garden club tomorrow, so you should expect to hear from Nancy later this week.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say as I see her out.

“Nonsense. Suppose you don’t find a roommate and then can’t live here and I’m forced to drive into town to see someone. The parking is atrocious. No, I like you right where you are so I’ll see to it that you can stay put. This isn’t charity, mind you. It’s networking. You’re young, so you know all about that.”

We’re ten years apart in age, at most. But if she wants to call me young, so be it. “Thank you.”

On Thursday, Nancy Goodwynn shows up at my door.

“I know I should have called first. But Maisy said you have a home business so you wouldn’t mind if I just dropped by. I’m Nancy, by the way, Nancy Goodwynn. Nearly the same last name as you, but with wynn at the end.”

Her red curls bob up and down as she speaks. I swear each freckle on her face has a piece of glitter on it, making her appear to sparkle in the sunlight.

The just-after-dawn barely-morning-sunlight.

When normal people are sleeping. Okay, maybe not normal people. But certainly me. She’s a morning person.

“May I come in?” She says as she sidesteps around me, not waiting for an answer. “Oh, dear. Have I caught you too soon in the day? Shall I wait in the parlor while you freshen up?”

“I, umm, it’s just really early.”

“Yes. Did you oversleep, or do you usually waste daylight? I like to have ten things done before the sun is finished rising.”

Really, really a morning person. “I tend to do things closer to midnight.”

“Oh no, that isn’t good for you. Early to bed, early to rise.”

“Yeah. This isn’t that kind of house.” No sooner do I say it then dad’s ghost blows by.

Nancy shutters. “Oh my, quite a chill. Have you had the insulation checked? My father knows a good home inspector. You should have that done before I move in. Wouldn’t want either of us to catch our death from a chill.”

“It was a ghost,” I say as I rub my eyes.

“Oh you,” she laughs. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. Let me ask you this, how do you get in your bathroom while in that wheelchair? I notice there’s no button to shoot the door open.”

“I manage.” What kind of question is that? Not as if it matters. There’s no way she’s moving in.

“Well, I suppose at home you can make do. But what about out in public? I know there are stalls for you people in the restrooms, but how do you get past the heavy doors to get into the room?”

There should be a law against morning people. Especially if they’re going to impose on the rest of us and not even have the decency to bring coffee. “It’s a challenge sometimes. But that’s the way of the world. Doors aren’t made or hung by many people who are largely confined to sitting. Look, if this is going to continue, especially with you calling me a ‘you people,’ I’m going to need caffeine.”

“That’s against the Lord’s law. Nothing addictive but prayer. We’ll get your life cleaned up, don’t you worry about that. Have you heard the good news?”

“Is it that you’re leaving now?” Shut it down. There’s zero chance I’m letting this girl move in.

“Of course not! Oh you are a silly billy, aren’t you? I’m just going to rise up your stairs and have a peek at the floor I’ll be renting. You just stay there and think about it.”

I wheel into her path. “No. The upstairs is closed.”

*** 718 words

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

Monday with Maisy #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.



“Liv, darling!” My newest client, Maisy Astaire, twirls as she enters the room. Her outfit probably costs more than a new car. Especially if adding in the jewelry. Why would anyone get that blinged out to visit a psychic? I don’t know. But she’s paying, so I’m happy.

“Come on in, Maisy. I poured you a cup of tea.”

“Ah, you know me so well. Thank you, darling. Now, what’s this rumor that you’re looking for a roommate?” Her garments flow around her as she settles into her seat.

“Yes. This wonderful house comes with a large yearly tax bill. I’d hate to lose the home if I come up short on funds. But that’s nothing to trouble yourself with. Please, tell me what I can do for you today.”

“Well, the most terrible thing happened this weekend. My cat, Sir Butterball the Third, was outside.”

Please don’t be a dead cat story. I hate stories where cats die.

“And he got it in his head to chase a bird. A finch, I think. I wasn’t near enough to see. Well, he chased the bird from the bath, then to the feeder, and then even got up on the roof. Naturally, I was beside myself. I don’t have to tell you, dear. You have two cats.”

I nod.

“The next thing I know, Sir Butterball the Third is in the neighbor’s yard. Well, of course, I had to go over there to get him. He’s a cat, for Pete's sake. I can’t just leave him to wonder. Never know what trouble he would get into. So I went to my neighbor’s yard. Just for the cat, of course.”

“Of course.” Does she think I’m going to call her out on a trespassing charge? Honestly, I don’t care.

“Well, there’s my neighbor, on a lounge chair. So I called out to her and let her know my cat was in the yard and I was only there to retrieve him. As I got closer, I said it again. Figured she didn’t hear me. She hadn’t waved or acknowledged me. Then I spotted Sir Butterball the Third. He was sitting beside Grace, licking her fingers. But she wasn’t petting him. I figured she must have been napping.”

I nod again. “Sure.”

“That’s when I noticed she was naked. Can you imagine? In this weather! So I rushed over and shook her. And that’s when I realized her eyes weren’t closed, they were gone. Picked clean by the birds, I think. So I picked up my cat, ran home, and called the police. But, would you believe, they won’t tell me what happened! Not one word. They questioned me for hours. Went over it twice now, but won’t tell me what happened.”

“You found your neighbor dead, and naked, in her backyard?”

Maisy sips her tea. “All because my cat chased a bird.”

It takes a lot to floor me. The supernatural has desensitized me to most of the darkness in this world. But, somehow, this nearly knocks the wind from me. “That’s quite incredible.”

“Yes. Now then, dear, I’d like you to reach out to Grace and asked her what happened. The police won’t tell me. So, straight to the source.”

Just another mundane Monday with Maisy.

*** 545 words

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

Funny or Writer Genius

Ahh, Facebook. I have a love-hate relationship with you. When I'm feeling lonely (which is most of the time) it's good to be able to check up on friends. To see memories. To feel connected.

But then there's a challenge thrown out by my brother. "400 comments" and he'll egg me. I don't currently have quarters to do a load of wash. So this really means he gets 400 comments and it costs me $4 in quarters plus at least 2 hours of my life, and my husband's life as he has to carry the wash basket because I can't physically pick it up anymore.

I made a counter offer that instead of egging me, my brother should have to do his own laundry and my parents for a weekend this summer. Since our mom does his. And no, he doesn't pay her. She works part-time and dad is retired, and they're deep in debt. My brother spends his weekends getting ready for car demo derbies. That's where you buy a car and then smash it. But he can't afford the time or cost to do his own wash.

And now I'll have to pay to do an extra load of my laundry because one of his friends sat there for several hours leaving the same bee emoji over and over again to get it to 400 comments. Comments, not likes, because he doesn't know that many people.

I feel like writers should be able to use this. 400 responses to this post about a book and... someone has to send me money but not to buy a copy! A random bit of food is wasted! I don't know.

Maybe I'd be amused if doing laundry was free and didn't cost me exhaustion. Or if there was even a change machine around here. Because $4 is the base price. The dryer often doesn't dry, so that's another $2. It gets refunded by check a few weeks later. Then the check has to be deposited. And the atm doesn't give quarters, or less than $20. So I have to go to a 24-hour store to buy something to get cash back to go to the creepy carwash across town to buy quarters. I don't have a way to hang dry things in this apartment.

Comments are closed because I'm just venting.

I'm sure it sounds really funny to someone who doesn't do their own wash, or doesn't have health issues that make even that simple task far more difficult than it should be.

But the child who is medically allowed to hold a job (and does work) and is capable of doing his own wash has mom doing it for him.

Ley Lines #AtoZchallenge #AdForRoomatesStory #Paranormal #UrbanFantasy #LGBTQIA+

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.



I wake up to the sound of cursing coming from my backyard.

“Please tell me you’re not turning to ash out here.” I climb from the couch to my chair and wheel out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My friend Jaxson replies as he hops around on one foot.

I rub my eyes. “Nothing. Thought you were someone else. What’s going on?”

“Your rock kicked my toe.”

“They do that. I haven’t had any caffeine yet. Want to come in and tell me why you’re here?” I need a better lock on my fence. Jaxson follows me inside. He goes to my kitchen and starts making breakfast.

“Over-easy or sunnyside?”

I roll to my usual spot at the island. It’s too early to argue about him showing up and then cooking. “Over-easy. Just one slice of toast, please.”

He doesn’t say anything until our food is plated and tea is poured. “There was a surge in your ley lines.”

“My what? I didn’t have an orgy, not that it’d be your business if I did.”

He z-snaps and purses his lips. I laugh. The move looks better now than when we were younger, back before Jaxson had his true body. “Girl, that’s definitely my business if you have one! I’d expect an invite.”

I laugh harder. Should have peed before breakfast. “Stop, stop. I surrender.”

“Good.” He nibbles his toast. “Your ley lines. The magnetic energy that connects powerful places? Remember I told you that two intersect in your house.”

“Right. Yes. I know what ley lines are, I’m not an idiot. Just thought you said something else. What do you mean by a surge?” I polish off my eggs. Jaxson could be a professional chef if he wanted to.

“There was a surge. I thought maybe Catty had a growth spurt. Or one of your other friends gave birth. Figured I should check on you.”

“Which is why we have phones.”

He shrugs and clears the plates. “And if you were dead? Or if something was faking your voice? Maybe Daddy turned vengeful. Best to just come see for myself.”

“Uh huh. But the front door didn’t look pretty enough for you?”

Jaxson gives a wicked grin. “You know I prefer the back door.”

I put my hands up. “That’s it! I’m going to use the bathroom before you make me have an accident.”

When I roll back into the kitchen a few minutes later, Jaxson is gone. I call out, but no one answers. Then I notice the sunroom door is ajar.

“Oh no. Please don’t let him be dead.” I roll over.

Thankfully, none of the creatures ate him. In fact, they seem to be entertained by his magic show. Witches!

“Everyone looks fine,” he tells me.

“Yeah. I told you not to go in here without me. They don’t know you well enough yet.”

He shrugs. “They know I can see the lines, feed from them as they do. Maybe you should give them more credit.”

“Yeah. Next, you’ll tell me that the vampire I invited in last night just wanted me for my location.”

Jaxson’s jaw drops. “You hung out with a vampire and didn’t tell me? Liv, seriously, I’m questioning our friendship. And, by the way, that’s obviously the surge.”

I shrug. “He’ll be back in twenty-eight days. I think I’m his dealer now. By the way, I’m looking for roommates. Oh, and I told a creepy wanna-be biker guy that you were the one looking.”

If sunbeams could shoot out of person, I’d be blind. “I’m that guy? Your protector? Okay, friendship refortified.”

Too bad everyone isn’t that easy to please.

“Twenty- eight days from now? Is it a lunar cycle?”

I laugh. “Well, some women call periods the moon goddess cycle, so in a way. Judah, my vampire friend, has a taste for certain blood. Makes me seem like a fine wine, doesn’t it?”

*** 652 words

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

Katlin Marie #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.



“Interestingly, I am looking at ways to make additional funds. The psychic business isn’t the cash cow people think it is.”

Judah laughs. “Not seeing lotto numbers in the future, eh? Yeah, I’ve never met a psychic, fortune teller, seer, prognosticator, diviner, profit, or the like who had knowledge such as that. The myth persists though, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I down my shot of vodka and pour another. “Clairaudience, clairsentience, clairempathy, and some channeling, none of which foretells the future. People sometimes ask me if I’ll just look into my crystal ball.”

“Let me guess, you don’t have one?”

I shake my head after downing another shot. “Nope. I have a xanntace though. They are frequently mistaken for a crystal ball. Or a gazing globe lawn ornament.”

“Ah. Finest lawn care in the world though. And they’re excellent caretakers of goats and chickens.”

“Huh. I didn’t know about the chickens.”

Judah nods. “Yes. Anyway, about my offer. I’m happy to stop by monthly. For pick up. I have two other suppliers. One in Chhokangparo, Nepal. She’s an older woman who would likely have passed a decade ago if not for our arrangement.”

“That’s near a mountain, isn’t it?”

He nods. “Beautiful place.”

“I would like to go to Thailand one day. But Nepal sounds nice. I’m just not sure about the accessibility options.” I motion to my wheelchair.

“Perhaps when we are better acquainted you will permit me to be your traveling companion. I assure you that I could carry you. And, as I am sure you know, I will not tire.”

“Especially if it’s around this time of the month for me?”

He smiles. “It would certainly be beneficial.”

“Tell me about the other one you have an arrangement with.”

“Ah. That is a very long line. The women of the family have been my suppliers since early in my change. Angela, the current one, lives in Paris, France. They’ve been scattered around Europe over the centuries. Angela’s grandparents and great-grandmother lived in one of my castles during the Holocaust.”

“Nazi’s not knocking at your door?”

He grins, those pointy canines glimmering. “A unit or two may have vanished.”

I laugh. We head into the living room. I leave my wheelchair in favor of the couch. Judah asks if the fireplace works. He gets a blaze going before sitting on the cushion beside me.

“My hypnosis didn’t work on you. I’m curious as to if that’s because of your psychic powers or your closeness with supernatural creatures. Fourteen hundred years ago is the last time I recall it failing. I was starving at the time. Africa did not prove to be the fruitful trip of which I had hoped and dreamed.”

“You did say you were hungry earlier.”

Judah nods. “Katlin Marie was my local supplier. She was not home three months ago when I came to call. It was unlike her. She was a shut-in, you see.”

I nod. Judah hands me the nearest blanket. Could he tell I was getting cold? Being a vampire, I suppose it’s possible.

“I stayed nearby, watching over her place, trying to figure out where she could have gone. As it turns out, she was struck by a vehicle while in her home. Drove into the living room. From there, she was taken to the hospital. On her way home, there was another traffic accident. The vehicle she was in took multiple blows.”

“Oh my,” I frown as I snuggle closer to him.

He wraps his arm around me. “Katlin Marie perished. She had no family to care for her. It took ages to track down her remains and get her laid to rest properly.”

“Kind of you to do that.” My eyelids feel heavy. Fred, one of my cats, climbs in between us on the couch. I rub his ears, enjoying the reward of his purring.

*** 645 words

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

Judah #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.



“Funny thing, I’m not in the habit of inviting strangers into my house. Why are you here?”

“Ah. Well, the answer is unlikely to incline you to honor my request. I shall give it honestly though. My plan was to hypnotize you so that you would invite me inside. Then I intended to feast on your blood. Your ripeness called to me. A scent so sweet I could not resist. Especially as it has been three moons since I last fed.”

Judah grins, exposing his teeth. His canines elongate, resembling Catty’s wendigo teeth rather than human ones.

“Oh.” I rub my temples. “So I get my period and a vampire comes to call at midnight. This is what I missed living with my dad all those years? Fantastic.”

He bows to me. “If you wish it, I will go and never darken your doorstep again.”

“No. I won’t turn away a hungry creature. But know that you will honor your word about no harm coming to any in this place. Catty might not have eaten you, but I’m sure I’ve got someone around here who would.” I roll out of the way. “Come in, Judah.”

“Thank you, Mistress of Supernatural Creatures.”

“Liv.”

“I am between living and dead, I suppose,” he says as he steps inside.

I laugh. “No. Liv. It’s my name. Liv Good.”

“Ah. Mistress Liv. Is that from the Norse?”

“Norwegian, yeah,” I roll toward the kitchen. But I stop when I notice that Judah isn’t following me.

I roll back toward him. He’s leaning against the frame of the bathroom door. “Hey. You all right?”

“Liv, would it offend you greatly if I were to remove something from your trash?”

“You want to take out my trash? Dude, one less thing for me to do. Just make sure you wash your hands after you’re done.” I shrug. Sure, it’s a strange request. But he could have asked for far worse.

He bows. “It is only an item that I require. As you’ve discarded it, and seem unattached to your rubbish, I shall make use of it.”

I raise my eyebrow as he dashes into my bathroom. Curious, I roll closer to see what he’s taking. My stomach churns as I watch him lick an item pulled from my trash.

“Oh, whoa. I, that’s really gross. But, yeah, I can see why you’d like it.” I hide my face in my hands.

“I do apologize. You are compatible with my needs. The waste was a means to sustain and strengthen my existence. It had to be done.”

“Right. Yeah. Do you want some tea or something? Or a spare toothbrush? I probably have one.”

He laughs. “Thank you for your kindness. I have done far worse to remain sustained. If you would consider continuing our friendship though, perhaps I could purchase menstrual cups for you?”

“Wow. Well, that’s just about the oddest offer I’ve ever gotten. Forget the tea, this calls for alcohol.” I roll toward the liquor cabinet.

Judah follows me, Catty dancing between us. Nothing unusual here. Just a vampire licking my used feminine products.

“I don’t mean to alarm or offend you. At the moment, your trash contains my treasure. Something which I trust to be true every month.”

“Yup,” I say as I pour myself a shot. Using the bottle, I motion to him, questioning if he’d like one. He declines. Saw that coming.

“One benefit of my long time on this world is the extended time to accumulate wealth. I could pay you for a for something you throw in the trash. An arrangement that could last for years. Quite a handsome sum to be earned for doing next to nothing.”

He’s speaking to my basic needs.

*** 625 words

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