201-05-may-28th-2017

First contact had not gone as planned. Two dozen dead littered the forest, lying amongst fallen leaves. Rivers ran with their blood.

Only six crew remained, their minds trapped in the heat of battle. She’d been left in charge, the only senior officer left standing.

“Sir,” a crewmate asked, “what’s our objective?”

She looked through the looming shadows of the trees to where the ship was perched on the mountain, its sweeping white lines looking delicate as glass. To get to it, they would have to walk through a mile of unknown territory.

“Forward,” she ordered. “And eyes on the trees.”

They crept on. Rifles swung at the slightest sound. Even their own footsteps made them cringe.

She kept her chin up. She couldn’t let them know she was as terrified as they were.

The trees gave way to the mountain path, the safety of the ship. They all sighed in relief as the hatch opened.

The aliens descended upon them, white teeth shining in crescent mouths, pink, tan, and brown skin gleaming with sweat, five slim fingers clutching rifle triggers.

She struggled, but they were too fast, their weapons too deadly.

The humans showed her crew no mercy.


Word Count: 199

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Photo credit goes to A Mixed Bag.

tltweek69

At the hands of Cedric the Bull, a hundred yellow heads rolled from the grey two-by-four of the executioner’s slab. When the valiant knights of the Yellow Castle climbed the high walls of his fortress, they found them lying in a pit ten bricks deep, all jumbled together.

It took ages to match them up with their bodies again.


This is for Three Line Tales! Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Carson Arias for providing the prompt photo!

j-hardy-rubble

Ash piled high over racked concrete, splintering rafters, rotting furniture. As far as Jared Thomas looked, there was nothing but grey.

“Look upon what you have wrought,” the woman said, her face hidden behind shining steel. “This is your legacy.”

Jared bent down to see a photograph of a girl and her mother, trodden underfoot and coated in dust. He wondered if there was anyone left.

“I never wanted this,” he said.

“You did not care before you beheld it with your own eyes.”

“I can change,” Jared said. “Please. Take me back. I can change!”

The woman said nothing.


Word Count: 100

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and J. Hardy Carrol for providing the prompt photo!

What? It’s back?

Yes, that’s right! Part 4 of the Fan-Voted Story is back with a vengeance.

Unfortunately, no one voted last time, so I continued on my own. So, if you want to help shape the story about what is going to happen to Kayla, please vote down below. If you like someone’s suggestion, like it! I’ll choose the highest voted suggestion or, if there isn’t one, the suggestion that I like best.

If you want to catch up with the story, please go to the Evan Elias section of the Living Author’s Society page.

Back to the action!

Read the rest of this entry »

photo-20170522162303645

Ian Thorn was happy with his reputation as the finest mind in England, his impressive number of completed cases, and the money that piled up in his bank account. What he could live without were the bodies.

It was all right at first. His clients came in and he solved their murders. But then he found a man stabbed to death on the Underground during his morning commute. A visit to his brother’s house in the country revealed a secret Satanic cult.

Solving mysteries was all very good, but he preferred not to have his work follow him home.

“Take a vacation,” his friend, Inspector Banks, said. “Try the beach.”

So Thorn went to the beach. He walked the golden sands, watching sunlight play over clear waters, a salty breeze in his face.

And then he found it, floating in the shallows.

He sighed. There was another case to solve.


Word Count: 150

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Louise for providing the prompt photo!

200-05-may-21st-2017

Nine days.

That was how long she sat on the throne she’d been forced into, how long she had held all the power and none of it. Each night she had woken in a sweat, knowing that it could all only end one way.

There had been one moment, sitting beside her husband, when it all felt real. For an instant, Jane Grey had imagined her England, an England ruled with kindness and justice. She imagined children, grandchildren, a future.

And then they came, Mary and her supporters, and Jane was thrown in the Tower, staring at grey stone. Each day she felt the shadow of the axe over her. Each day she waited for it to fall.

Wyatt’s Rebellion was the death sentence. Mary knew she could be lenient no longer. She could permit no other queen to live, not even a Nine Day Queen.

They brought Jane out into the green and she felt sunlight on her face even as she saw it glinting on the axe. She bowed her head and remembered that moment when she thought she’d have it all: family, throne, future.

She was seventeen years old.

The axe fell.


Word Count: 195

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction! Thanks to A Mixed Bag for the photo prompt!

Welcome to yet another Living Authors’ Society Doctor Who Discussion! Join Jaden C. Kilmer and J.A. Prentice as we examine the latest Doctor Who episode, Extremis. 

matt-lucas-peter-capaldi-and-pearl-mackie-in-doctor-who-extremis

Warning. There are Spoilers ahead. Everyone who has read the Spoilers has chosen Hell. Proceed with caution.

Read the rest of this entry »