Stick to Instant

Stick to Instant
Bloop. Carrie-Ann's mouth twisted in a moué of distaste at the sound. Splut. She grimaced and picked up the wooden spoon, turning back to the stove. Garry loved oatmeal. He could eat it every day for breakfast, but Carrie-Ann couldn't bring herself to make it more than once a week. It was Garry's Saturday treat. She hated the liquid-solid sounds it made and the disgusting way bubbles broke open when they reached the surface. She also hated the way it could grow suddenly if she turned her back on the stove for more than fifteen seconds. From nothing to blorfing all over the stove in fifteen damned seconds! Why couldn't Garry settle for instant oatmeal, but no, it was too sugary, too salty, too fast, too convenient. She rolled her eyes, and stuck the spoon into the pot.

Burblup. Blubblurp! Carrie-Ann gave the oatmeal a half-hearted stir. She held her coffee cup in her other hand and took a sip. Ahhh. Lovely. Burblurblplublup! Ow! A minuscule dot of oatmeal had spewed itself out of the pot and landed on the back of her right hand. She dropped the spoon and brought her hand to her mouth. Damn! That hurt. She licked the oatmeal droplet off her hand and studied the red mark underneath. Stupid oatmeal.

Movement caught her eye and she focused on the pot in time to see the spoon disappearing as oatmeal rose. Up and up the sides of the pot, heading for the rim. Dammit! She set her coffee cup on the counter and reached for the knob on the back of the stove to turn the heat down before the miserable stuff spilled out and hit the burner. The only thing worse than oatmeal was the stench of burning oatmeal.

As her arm moved over the pot, a pseudopod reached up and fastened onto her bath robe. She yanked her arm, not quite believing what she had seen, and then screamed when the pseudopod clutched her arm. The heat seared through the thin terrycloth. Oatmeal poured out of the pot, growing exponentially. Carrie-Ann had time for one more terrified shriek before she vanished inside the mass of hot cereal.

It pulsed and burbled to itself, bubbles continuing to burst on the surface from time to time.

“Carrie-Ann? Are you okay?” Garry's voice was thick with sleep. He stumbled down the hallway toward the kitchen, eyes half closed. “Carrie-Ann? Hon?” He was halfway across the kitchen before he saw the toppled pot, the oatmeal spreading across the floor. His left foot was already touching the edge, which felt almost alive, writhing under his toes. He tried to pull back. Blorblup! Garry's days of eating oatmeal were over.

Rain

Rain pours on rooftops
puddles growing everywhere
no golfing today

The Last Dance

He danced on the rooftop. Music soared from speakers dragged up from his apartment, lifting his spirit, lifting his body. He leapt and spun, balletic, graceful. Sunlight sparkled on the river, glinted from windows, dazzled his eyes. Still he danced. Tears slid unheeded down his cheeks.

In the city, bodies lay in the streets, stinking in the heat. Rats and seagulls feasted. The source of the plague no longer mattered. Treatment, vaccinations no longer mattered. Humankind no longer mattered. So few survived.

The parapet drew near. He cried aloud and leapt once more. Up and over. And down.
***

Edited on Aug 8 to switch paragraphs 1 and 2. I like this version better.

Life Changes

Life Changes

Life changes
come at you at the most unexpected times
bringing shivers of anticipation
and shivers of anxiety
where to go next and who to be
what interests to pursue and which to set aside
what friends to cling to and which to let go
and embrace the change that is the only constant in life

Life got in the way

I've been away from here for way too long. Life got in the way, writing inspiration dried up, and I wasn't doing nearly as much as I would have liked to.

Now, however, I've moved from my big old house into a small apartment in a different town. My daughter and her family are living in my house (a family of five is more suited to a 4 bedroom house than a pair, one of which is almost finished high school and ready to move out and onward), and my last chick is just about done school. My work schedule is now allowing me writing time, and I'm starting to grab it.

At the moment, I have two projects on the go. I'm switching a manuscript of over 100K words from first to third person, a task I would wish on no one, and I'm trying to pick up the threads of a horror novel that I began in longhand and am now transcribing as well as adding 250 new words a day. At some point, I'll probably sit down and plot out where I want it all to go.

I've also misplaced a handwritten manuscript of 50,000 words or so; a sequel to a novel I'm trying to find an agent for. I suspect the ms is still in my house and the next time I go visit, I'll scour the likely hiding places for it.

In the meantime, I feel the writing urge and it is good.

New Cover Art

I got the art for the hot and steamy novel coming out from eXtasy Books in the (not-too-distant, but distant enough) future. I'm quite happy with it. Torin has a certain dangerous look, which he should have, and the wolf is pale coloured, as she should be. Now it's all a matter of waiting for the editing stage and all that fun part. In the meantime, I've two fiction projects I'm working on, one non-fiction book, a grammar course for an online site and several articles for various magazines. I'm on a roll!

Update

It's been way too long since I stopped in here. I finished the rewrite and sent the manuscript back to the agent and as yet have heard nothing back. I thought I'd give her until the end of May before sending a polite email to enquire the status of my ms. and whether she's interested in representing it. In the meantime, I've sent out queries to two other agents and I have the manuscript bundled up to send out to a publisher.

I've also been sending out queries to different magazines and to greeting card companies. I've had a few nibbles, a few outright rejections and a few haven't replied at all. There'll be something concrete in the very near future--I'm quite confident on that.

Oh, I did get a contract from eXtasy Books for an erotic novel I wrote as a side story to a medieval fantasy I've been working on for several years. That was a nice development. It had garnered a very nice rejection from one erotica publisher and was accepted by the next one. I'll be sure to announce it to all and sundry when I know the release date. Quite an eclectic selection of writings: one romantic science fiction novel, a young adult murder mystery/ghost story and an erotic novel. Never let it be said I got myself into a rut. I may opt to publish the YA books under another name to separate them from the erotica. I'd hate younger readers to pick up the wrong books.