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Flash: Burdened Reflections

Erin Penn

Photo by Antoine Da cunha on Unsplash

Art cropped by Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Heather pulled into the daycare parking lot shaking from exhaustion. Two co-workers had quit in the early morning because of the insulting and vulgar rudeness of the pre-Christmas crowd, leaving the rest of the store to take up the slack. Lunch never happened. Getting off at her normal time had required her to demand the ability to leave, or payment to cover the daycare penalties if she showed up late.

The backup at the registers had been bad enough the tightwads running the outlet debated the costs until she shut off her light and walked away from the waiting customers.

Prying her fingers from the staring wheel, Heather shouldered her handbag before leaving the car, feeling a little naked without extra weight of the diaper bag she had left when she dropped off the children. She glanced around at the four other cars, recognizing all the them, as she quickly crossed the graveled lot, shivering in the cold. The daycare wasn’t the best, but it was willing to take in the twins and the government covered all costs so she could work. She didn’t know how she would have made ends meet without welfare assistance.

It wasn’t like her ex would be paying child support. After he dumped her once the baby bump showed, he disappeared without a trace. Phone number, facebook, twitter, old address – nothing worked. She had been so stupidly enthralled she hadn’t notice she never met any of his friends and he hadn’t bother meeting any of hers. No one existed anywhere with the name Jevil Horne, and she had looked in ways not available to most people. It was like he wasn’t on the planet anymore. She couldn’t even find where he got his inks, and they had been elaborate.

Heat embraced her through her windbreaker once the door closed behind her. The tight entryway required her to step out of the path of an exiting parent, toddler on his hip. The father nodded in passing, looking as harried as she felt. They overlapped each day during pickup and dropoff. One day she should ask his name.

She needed a new group of friends since her old ones dumped her. Babies didn’t mix with the half she used to club with, and the rest, well, they had good reason for distancing themselves even if it hurt. Getting involved with other parents might be the answer, because she sure as sunspots wasn’t going to stick around at the General Outlet after the holidays. They already treated her as a second-class citizen since she gave birth.

Breezing by the always unmanned receptionist desk at the understaffed, cut-rate daycare, Heather made her way back to the nursery area.

“Hey, Mrs. Forester, running a little late today?” asked the extremely overweight woman rocking one of the babies in the crib area, greed gleaming in her eyes.

“Only twelve minutes, which, since I usually run twenty minutes early, means I am still ontime.” Heather snapped going to the crib where they double-bunked her twins. “And it’s Miss,” she muttered under her breath, knowing no amount of correction worked with the caregiver. Heather picked up the pink and blue striped bag hanging off the side of the crib, automatically counting diapers and bottles. She hadn’t got to pump today, missing lunch, but she had enough at home for tomorrow.

“They ate just fine and needed three changes today, plus one change of clothes.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gula.” Heather pulled out her customer service smile for the hag, then lifted first one and then the other of her twins from the crib. She should complain about the daycare putting them in the same crib, but she did the same at home. At two months, there was plenty of room. Thinking into the New Year, and what her growing babies would need, required sleep she seriously lacked. Decision would be made later.

Juggling the two mostly awake children, Heather exited the building and loaded them in her blue Honda, carefully checking all the straps and kissing first her son and then her daughter on their foreheads, saying “I love you.”

Her parents, and her several sets of step-parents, never said it enough to her. If she remember right, and since she had wrote it in her diary because it had been unusual even then, the last time was her eleventh birthday. When she left home, she swore she was never going back.

If that means raising two children on her own, so mote it be.

It would be nice to hear the words from someone again. Not even her coven-mates said those magical words. Only things like “We support each other before the gods.” and “Blessed be.”

Tucking her blonde curls behind her ears, Heather climbed into the car and started shutting her door. The coven had been relieved to have a reason to kick her out; they always been scared about how quickly she learned and mastered new magics. Magic soaked into her like sunlight into a tan, it didn’t matter the form – fire or water, nature or –

The door wouldn’t close.

Heather looked up to find her ex, Jevil, grasping the top.

“Hello sexy.”

***Chapter Break

Heather’s breast tingled at the voice, trained after nearly a year under his kinky appetites, but her mind pulled the rest of her deeper in the car. He looked dangerously delicious, silhouetted against the gray, winter sky. His black curls hung around his shoulders ready to swing forward and cut off the world has he hovered above her, building anticipation before he slammed into her the first time, every time. His large hand pulled the door completely open, and he filled the space with his wickedly well-muscled body. She remember digging her hands into the hallows and stroking the planes of his sinfully perfect build. All she could think about is how much she wanted to kiss him, have him work his way down her body until she screamed for release.

Then someone tried to open the car door into the back seat. She always locked them after loading the children.

“What?” She snapped her head around to find two men, even larger than Jevil, if that was possible, trying to get in the car. The back of her car. Where her babies were.

“The door’s locked,” one of them reported, his voice satin and melted chocolate late at night, stirring hormones buried beneath the changes to her body required during nursing.

When Jevil reached to the button on her door to unlock the car, she called the winter wind and shoved him back, his unseasonably thin shirt covered in a light layer of ice.

He smiled, his eyes darkening beyond black, like they did when he applied nipple clamps or taught her a new incantation. “Don’t be that way babe.” He wiped the crusty frost from his front and strode toward the car again. “We just want the brats. It’s not like they are anything but a burden.”

burden. burden.

The day weighed down on her. Lack of food made her shake. Every screaming, demanding customer. The looks the daycare workers gave her. The abandonment of her friends. And all for what?

Her son made a sound, a half-cry for attention.

“Don’t you dare!” she spat, slamming the door. The Honda turned over instantly without her touching the key, and she peeled out, spraying gravel, hearing a slight thud when one of the men with Jevil didn’t move out of her way quickly enough.

She saw him leap impossibly high in the air, and for a second, a split second, that if she didn’t have the Sight, her mind would have brush aside for a more comfortable version of reality. Behind the suddenly naked man stretched two large wings. Black, shimmering with midnight purple and sunless silver scales, and perfectly matching the horns growing out of his head. One hand gave her a single taloned finger in her rear-view mirror, as he landed back on the ground, pulling the illusion back into place.

“Oh goddess, oh goddess.” Heather kept looking at her side mirror all the way home, though nothing seemed to be following her.

The rental was small, but affordable, at least on the salary she had before she got fired because of missing days from morning sickness. The hard scrabble since then from one minimum wage to job to another destroyed her anemic savings long before the babies were born. Government assistance workers had helped arrange partial payment until some real section 8 housing opened up, but she had to make up the difference. She hadn’t made her portion of this month’s payment; she didn’t think her landlord would kick her out until after Christmas. Her luck said today might be the day.

Well, good luck with that. No one would get anywhere near the house today. Pulling into the garage, she raised the wards her coven had put in place back when they used to meet here and locked the house up tighter than a fortress. When Jevil had dumped her, she had rescinded his welcome and cleaned the house of all traces of his existence. The first pass had been mostly to find something to cast a tracking spell because she wanted to give the jerk a piece of her mind, but the bastard hadn’t left even a hair behind. No way he could get inside now.

She breathed deeply instead of hyperventilating, and turned off the car, this time with the key.

“So, Apollo and Diana, how did you like meeting your daddy?”

The twins started crying after being silent the entire wild ride home.

(Words 1610; first published 1/27/2019)

Other Cool Blogs: 6 Ways You’re Botching Your Dialogue

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

On June 5, 2013 writing for Litreactor.com (has changed to a pay-per-view around 2/28/2023), Robbie Blair encapsulated the perfect advice for adding energy to dialogue. Why is dialogue so important? Dialogue is where character development meets action. Capturing the way the characters speak metamorphosizes the perfectly dressed poseable dolls sculptured with words into believable people.

Dialogue is where character development meets action.

Every single one of the “6 Ways You’re Botching Your Dialogue” are ones I have bounced slushes on, corrected authors on while editing, commented on during reviews, AND needed to fix in my own writing. See the whole article here:  (link no longer working as of 2/24/2023).

WRITING EXERCISE: Go to your work in-progress (WIP) and pick out a dialogue scene. Use at least one of the six comments to attack the dialogue and make it better – adjust a character’s speech to match their education and background, show hierarchy by who is polite to whom, kill the clones.

***

You can see some of these techniques in action in two recent pieces on the blog, Old Dragon and Small Fiddle.

In Old Dragon, the dialogue reveals much about each character. From the disrespect of the young man addressing the town elder as “grandpa”, to the simple words of the child listening in the audience. The POV character is a master storyteller and his words have a pace to them the others lack, but he speaks differently to each person and when in storytelling mode.

In Small Fiddle, the main character is addressed differently by several people in chapter one. Olivia is formal, but adult familiar, addressing the POV as “Rebecca”. That woman’s voice is haughty and cutting. Meanwhile, Paulie, the short order cook, calls her “Becca” while his daughters address the adult as “Mrs. Hurt.” All three of the food truck workers are polite to the customer with just the right touch of friendly for repeat business.

How Rebecca talks to the other people around her changes based on her relationships with them as well. Finally linear dialogue is avoided because Rebecca is actively trying to derail Olivia’s self-righteous gossip-mongering.

Writing Exercise: Let’s Do This (Part One)

Erin Penn

Image found with multiple postings on the Interweb

Who all has made New Year’s Resolutions promising to “finish that book” or just to “write more”? Okay, I see more than one hand up. The question is: How do you write more? How do you become the writer you want to be?

First rule of a writer is write, second rule is write more, third rule is write regularly, and fourth is writing something to completion.

To do this professionally means producing words with consistency and commitment, the question is how best to deliver yourself for BIC (butt in chair) HOK (hand on keyboard). Especially while working a day job, meeting family commitments, and (maybe) having enough social life to maintain the requirements for sanity.

Each month for the next three months, I will introduce two methods, and the writing challenge will be testing one of the two to see if it works for you. For January, let’s do a quick trip back to National Novel Writing Month (NaNo) for two tools for your writing chest.

First. Word Sprints. The National Novel Writing Month gold standard.

Five minute, fifteen minutes, or thirty minute typing or scribing crunches. Getting words on paper as fast as possible. This technique is used by many to destroy a writer’s block. Can’t write, then stop thinking about writing and just do it. Get words out, in any order. Don’t edit. Don’t worry. Just open the tap and get the water flowing, however rusty it is. People swear by word sprint.

So you don’t have to watch the time while typing, go to your phone’s alarm clock function. Many of them have a countdown alarm. Set it to the length you will be sprinting, click start to make sure it is actually counting down, flip it over so you can’t see the countdown, and GO.

Second. Every.Single.Day.

Just sit down at the keyboard or in your favorite chair, and do it. If nothing happens after five minutes, get up and walk away. But what matters is you tried. Day-in and day-out. You sat in the chair at some point with the intent to write. Commitment made.

WRITING EXERCISE: Try one of the two techniques.

(A) Every.Single.Day – for one week try the E.S.D. method. BICHOK.

(B) Word Sprint – For either one week, or for three weekends in January/February, do word sprints. Choose a length of time to work with and just type away or scribble in a notebook until the time is up.

Evaluate. Did you ENJOY the technique you tried? Did you feel COMMITTED while working on it? Did you PRODUCE a good product? (note – good product is a first draft you can edit later, not a finished product worthy of publication)

***

My Attempts

Every.Single.Day – I started the year with the intent to write E.S.D. Then a work convention happened the second week and I didn’t have time for three days. This always happens. I usually have too many irons in the fire and suddenly I miss a day, then a month. The simple goal of E.S.D. doesn’t make me happy; while writing is work, it shouldn’t be a toil. 

Word Sprints – I tried them once, but instead of swearing by them like some NaNo writers, I swear at them. I cannot shut off my inner editor enough and writing just to write doesn’t work for me, not even to break a writer’s block. Going outside and mowing the lawn and weeding the garden is ten times a better use of my time. But what doesn’t work for me, might work for you so try it out.

Flash: Reversed Reflections

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of Ben Schonewille at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The men were still following her, she was sure of it.

Heather adjusted her mirrors after pulling into the rest stop. She watched as the black Tahoe continued down the highway, positive that when she passed the next gas station it would be pulling in behind her again. But for the moment, she was off their radar.

Leaning  back, she took a moment to breathe and center herself, then adjusted the mirrors for real. Cars with intent to follow would have a red haze around them going forward. At least until nightfall, when her sun and nature-based magic failed. That’s when they will attack again, her gut said.

“I guess I could try some of the night magic.” Heather suggested to the two rear-facing seats shown in her inside rear-view mirror. The twins neither approved or disapproved the suggestion.

Not that she would do the night magic her ex-boyfriend taught her. Her demon lover. She hadn’t known how true that appellation had been when Jevil had introduced himself at the club. She thought he had just been a bragging asshole, and she always liked bad boys.

Having a guy gyrate behind her while she was dancing, and somehow whisper in her ear , “I’ll be your demon lover tonight,” made her panties melt five beers in to the night. She hadn’t questioned the magic required to perform a whisper while dancing to ear-shattering club music after sunset.

When she started showing, Jevil had flicked her aside like the butt from a used smoke, and she thought that was that. Lesson learned, sun and darkness don’t mix. Until yesterday when he had shown up at the daycare with two other men who could have passed for his brothers, wanting the kids. The twins had already been strapped in, so she floored her sedan, making one of the men leap out of the way and she had seen wings behind him for a moment before the illusion reformed. Real, honest-to-badness, bat-like wings shimmering like oil in the dim winter sun.

She had spent the night at her house, her haven, behind wards made by her coven before they had cut her from the circle, while the trio battered and pounded the magical walls denying entrance. It was the night before winter solstice, so nearly fifteen hours of her tossing what little magic she had under moonless skies. Every stone and plant in her house was drained or dead by the time the sun rose. The house would not survive another night.

Not that it mattered, because they had tossed gasoline against the side they had breached close enough to touch the physical siding, and then added a match.

Heather barely managed to get the kids into the garage and strapped into their seat in the Honda Civic before flames roared through their living quarters. She pulled out from the flames and smoke while dawn broke the horizon, which she used to power a nuclear blast of Light, capital L intended, to clear her path. She had been driving ever since, exhaustion held off only by magic. She wouldn’t make it through the night.

Stumbling out of the car, she opened the driver-side rear door. Carefully unbuckling her daughter, she took the baby over to a picnic table. Looking around, to see who was about to get an eyeful and finding no one, she kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the sod. After that she lifted her shirt and unsnapped the nursing bra pad protecting an aching breast. The child latched on as soon as the nipple was in range.

“I know, I know. I am so sorry to have missed your morning feeding. You’ve been so good, Diana.” She had been feeding Apollo when she had smelled the gas; he had not been happy about the interruption, but settled immediately after the car started moving. Both of them had been eerily quiet as she drove in a panic to nowhere. Her coven had removed her when she had shown up with a reverse witch streak, the black lock damning against her blonde hair. Dabbling with Jevil, using sex magic at night and other seductive tricks, left its mark on her body, life, and soul.

“I should have known better.” Heather talked using the rise and fall babies love to hear. “You will know better, won’t you? You are going to be my smart little girl.” The baby sucked steady, leeching liquid from her body she hadn’t replaced since yesterday’s, goddess help her, breakfast. She had worked through lunch at her retail job since two of the staff quit. Well, management must be having a field day with her being a no-show today. She drew more energy from the soil to push back the low-blood-sugar headache and dehydration migraine. The brownish grass turned black as she killed it for her survival, removing every particle of light the living mass had stored for the winter.

The clear blue eyes of the very young stared up at Heather, studying her intently, until, finally, Diana slowed her sucking. Unlatching the nipple, Heather tucked everything back in and slipped on her shoes, not worrying about the mud clinging to her toes, before carrying the drowsy baby to the car. Laying the two-month old back into the seat, Heather started buckling the child in. Kissing her lightly on the forehead, she promised, “I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you and your brother.”

Heather quaked as she considered her words. Everything in her power. She had to do it. Closing the door, she walked around to the other side where Apollo patiently waited for her with his black eyes. As she unbuckled him for the afternoon feeding, Heather commented, “Well, I guess your daddy is going to find out how well he taught me the Empty Magics.”

(Word 975; First published 1/20/2019)

 

Geeking Science: The New Horizon and the Old Sexy

Erin Penn

Image created in a Meme generator by Erin Penn

Our relationship with the International Space Station has moved into old married couple stage. Sexy new ideas, exciting discoveries, touches of imagination, lust of exploration, all are distant thrills of yesteryear. That doesn’t mean the relationship is over. Like an old couple, we check in periodically, encouraging those involved in our space exploration relationship to keep the long hours in the endless night. The pains of old equipment and the housecoat covered in solar dust isn’t exactly a candlelight dinner, but starlight is always there.

While we keep looking for the new thrill, like the furthest distant world ever visited by spacecraft which the New Horizon just passed and will be sending information back to us for the next 20 months (talk about long download speeds! – more about all this New Sexy here), we shouldn’t ignore this amazing relationship and responsibility we share with the world. The information gathered by the years and decades of operation will help us settle the great beyond.

If you don’t already have NASA bookmarked, go here.

I would also recommend joining the Planetary Society, a non-profit group supporting space exploration around the globe by government agencies, non-profit groups, universities, and commercial endeavors.

Space and the International Space Station may not be the New Sexy, but sometimes the best thing in the world is curling up by the fire with a good friend and sharing what is happening in our boring every-day lives. Especially when it involves Dragons. 

On Sunday, the Dragon module from the Space Station returned to earth with the newest scientific research. The experiments brought back by the Dragon include:

    1. The Design of Scalable Gas Separation Membranes via Synthesis Under Microgravity – An environmental experiment to remove excess carbon dioxide from the air. Useful for space exploration AND could maybe lead to developments which could reverse some of the carbon load damage here on Earth.
    2. Three-D printer-recycler – Turning waste plastic into filament for three-D printing. Cutting down on space debris, making every pound put into space worthwhile, and providing versatility once there. As with everything space-worthy, constant testing to make it the most robust product possible also translates to Earth uses in other harsh environments.
    3. Virtual Reality – This particular experiment is testing how astronauts react to and perceive microgravity. Long-term space use could mean we will be visiting Ultima Thule instead of just our cameras. Earth use includes helping people suffering vertigo and other perception issues.

More details about the experiments can be found at space.com: Some Strange Science Will Launch Into Space This Week for NASA (November 13, 2018) and throughout the web.

 

Image acquired from NASA – (the original blog post related to this has been deleted)
The SpaceX Dragon cargo craft is pictured moments after being released from the Canadarm2 robotic arm.