About this blog

As a writer, not yet published, I needed a place to showcase some of my work. That's what this blog is about. Sometimes I'll write about myself or what's going on in my life, but mostly, it'll be a place where you can come to read some fun short stories and/or a chapter from my book. Please feel free to leave comments and I welcome good feedback about my writing. Also, I'm trying to get my first book published and so if you know anyone in the field..... :)

Anyway, here's the first chapter of my book, Open Immediately. I hope you like it.

Chapter 1

She felt the lions watching her. They always did. Their cold, grey eyes followed her. She picked up her pace and quickly found herself in front of the Field Museum of Natural Science.
Pushing open the massive glass doors that led into the museum, Reilly Thompson shook the light frosting of snowfall from her auburn shoulder-length hair. She was home. Following in her father’s footsteps, she’d studied archeology and ancient cultures in college. She hoped to one day take his place as curator of the museum, and remembering the reason for his departure, she reached up to rub the amulet she’d worn every day for three years and thought of her parents.
As she stomped the slush off her very practical boots, she looked up, smiled, and gave what had become a daily good morning wave to Sue, who didn’t respond. But what can you expect from a life-size skeleton of a T-Rex.
Humming quietly she looked around the main floor and noted the museum’s daily ritual of getting ready for the onslaught of curious visitors.
The museum shop manager was quickly refilling the stock of stuffed mastodons and posters of King Tut, the clerks at the information desk were counting tickets and stuffing brochures, while the midnight cleaning crew was shuffling out the front door on its way home to cozy beds.
Reilly headed off towards her office.
She made it as far as the ticket counter before she was approached by her assistant, Billy who had the habit of getting to work at least thirty minutes before her. Billy was great at his job, but Reilly suspected his early arrivals had more to do with the fact that, at 24, he still lived at home than with his work ethic.
“Morning, Reilly,” Billy said as they walked to the main offices, “You’ve got three voice mails, ten emails that need immediate attention, there’s a bulb out in the hall of gems, and your sister called twice. Oh, and you got a package delivered this morning.”
“Well, good morning to you, too. Carly called twice? Geez, it’s not even 8:00. OK, first get Bob to fix the….wait; did you say I got a package? Fed Ex doesn’t deliver this early. Who’s it from?”
Billy shrugged and headed off to make the coffee. Reilly turned and opened the door to her office and stepped into what could only be termed as her haven. Thick, dark mahogany furniture was accented by two solid walls of built-in bookshelves, lined with treasures from around the world. Some from her travels, but mostly from her father’s collections.
Behind her impressive and incredibly organized desk the bay windows let in the morning light shining off Lake Michigan. That was one of her favorite parts about the office, seeing the gleam of diamonds off the lapping waves of the lake. Her office always felt so comforting and had a great view of the Chicago skyline. She walked over to the antique lamp her father had found during one of his digs in India and switched on the amber colored light.
As she walked toward her desk, she looked over at the well-worn leather couch in the corner. Whenever she had visited her father in this office, she’d curl up on that couch and listen to him convince a wealthy donor to fund yet another dig in yet another far-away place. But, that memory had to be put on hold because on her desk was the package Billy mentioned.
Reilly’s brow crinkled. She never got a package delivered directly to her. Plus, nobody delivers this early.

The package was wrapped in plain white butcher paper with only two labels on it. One label said “Open immediately” and the other had her name printed in block letters. It was small. No bigger than a business card in shape and size. When she picked it up, she noticed it hardly weighed half a pound. Curious, she began to tear off the paper and nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang.

“Hello? Oh hi Carly. Yeah, Billy told me you called,” Reilly said. “Look, I can’t talk now. What? Well, I’m busy, ya know, running a museum and all…, no,… I’m not implying that working part time at a library isn’t hard work….Look, can I call you back?” Reilly asked.
“Did you get a package today?”
“Yeah….why?”
“Just don’t open it, ok? I can’t tell you more over the phone. Don’t open it and come over as soon as you can,” Carly said.

Reilly hung up the phone and quickly put her coat back on. She was halfway down the hall when Billy came back with coffee. He stared at her receding back, shrugged, and returned to his desk.

Carly unloaded the whites from the dryer and was about to switch the colors from the washer when her oldest son came into the basement.

“Mom, I’m supposed to take a dozen cupcakes for the student council bake sale today.” Brian gave her his best sarcastic smile. “Don’t suppose you happened to make some last night?”
“Um, since this is the first I’ve heard of it, I’d have to say no. Stop by Hammerson’s Bakery on the way to school. Oh, and would you take your brother, too?” Carly said as she turned back towards the laundry.

Carly sighed, she had a full day ahead of her and didn’t have time to worry about Brian’s lack of planning. She needed to finish the laundry, write her grocery list, get to the market and talk to Reilly all before she left for work at eleven.
She didn’t know what to make of the dream, but she knew it meant something. She’d been having these special dreams ever since she was a kid. Her mom called it a gift, but sometimes it felt more like a burden. She remembered the dream she’d had right before her ninth birthday. That had been a good one, her family at the beach, laughing, playing in the water and having a great time. Sure enough, two months later, they all took a surprise vacation to Florida. But, not all the dreams were so happy. She also remembered the one she had three years ago, right before her parents’ plane went down outside Cairo. The dream last night had been like that one. Full of fear and danger. But this one also had mysterious places and unknown people, and it had started with a package.
Carly could hear her boys running around getting ready for school and was heading up the stairs towards the kitchen when she heard her youngest son cry out that his Auntie Reilly was here. Setting the laundry basket down, Carly took a deep breath and walked into the sunlit room.
She loved her kitchen. Full of windows and natural light, it was the centerpiece of her world. Spacious countertops and bright colors filled the work space while the nook held the old picnic table Tom had refinished. It took up the whole space reserved for eating, but Carly loved it. It had a feel about it, warm, inviting, and homey. She had made the cushions herself when Brian was just a toddler and now the wood and cushions both had the worn-in look and feel of a well loved security blanket.
And now, seated around it were her favorite people. Her husband Tom, her sons, Brian and Patrick, and her sister.
“What’s up, sis?” Reilly asked while helping herself to another slice of Patrick’s toast.
“Well, we need to talk. Brian, Patrick, you’re late. Get your coats and backpacks and get going. Tom, I got your suit from the cleaners yesterday, it’s in our closet. Reilly, follow me.” Carly said as she walked towards the living room.
The boys scattered, following the directions of their mom and Tom headed upstairs to finish getting ready for his day at the lab. Reilly shook her head as she followed Carly into the living room. How does she do that, she thought. If I could control people like that, I’d rule the world.
Walking into the living room, Reilly looked over to the mantle. Proudly displayed was the first thing her father had ever found during a dig. It was, however, about as valuable to a museum or collector as a tin can.
As a matter of fact, it was a tin can. Her father found it about ten feet under his back yard when he was eight. It dated back to 1845 and was an original can of Copenhagen snuff.
It was that find that got her father interested in archeology, had him traveling all over the globe in search of what the earth had hidden, allowed him to meet and marry her mom and eventually led to both their deaths. Still, every time Reilly saw it, she only remembered the adventures and the victories of his life and it always made her smile. Her father was her idol. His logic, humor and sense of adventure captivated students and donors alike. He loved teaching and spent most of his days talking to museum goers. Reilly had wanted to be just like him and believed that she was. Her only fear was that she couldn’t live up to the expectations she believed he’d had for her.
“Ok,” Carly began, “I know you never really believed in my dreams, but I had a doozy of one last night and I think it’s about you.” She moved over to the sofa and curled her stout legs underneath her as she sat. “I can’t remember all the details right now, you know how sometimes they come to me later, but it was clear that you would receive a package this morning and that it was dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?” asked Reilly as she stretched her long, toned legs out.
“Um…ya know how mom always said she was a witch?”
“Right and how I never believed her. I mean, come on, Carly, a witch? We’re supposed to believe that mom had magical powers handed down from some ancestral grandmother that we’ve never met or can find any record of? Plus, if she did have powers, why didn’t she use them to stop the plane from going down?” Reilly hated the idea that her mom was a witch. It just sounded so contrived. Seriously, witches are best left for story-telling around a camp fire, she thought. It was bad enough that her mom and sister claimed to have “powers” but they kept trying to convince Reilly that she was also gifted. Yeah, right, she thought. I have witch’s powers. If that were true, I wouldn’t have had my heart broken more times than I can count. I would’ve just turned them all to frogs.
Coming back to the moment, Reilly tried to focus on what Carly was saying.
“I don’t know, maybe they weren’t those kinds of powers. All I know is what she told us and that my dreams have always come true. Why does it always upset you talk about?”
“Look, I’m not upset; I’m just busy and have to get back to work. I don’t have time to debate whether or not our mother was a witch.” She took hold of her amulet.
Every time Reilly touched it, the dark purple stone seemed to glow. A starburst of light and mystery radiated from the center. It was as if the sun was trapped inside the stone and its rays were beating against the surface to be let out.
Carly remembered the story. Their father had found the stone in Egypt. It was supposed to be their honeymoon, but Dad could never miss a chance to dig in the dirt. He found it on the first day of the autumn equinox and Mom used to say it was blessed. She had it made into a necklace and never took it off, for thirty years she wore that amulet. Yet, as they left for another dig in Egypt, she had placed it in a box lined with velvet and left instructions that it should be given to Reilly.
“Well, why do you think Mom left you the amulet before their last trip?”
“What does the amulet have to do with your dream?”
Carly shifted in her seat, “Nothing, never mind. Here’s what I remember of the dream. You were in the museum and opening a package. I could feel your excitement about it. I couldn’t see what was inside, but all of a sudden, you were gone. Then, I was flying over a castle on a green hill. In the courtyard there was a commotion. They were burning a witch. I couldn’t make out anymore detail, but could smell the stench of burning flesh and hear her crying for help. She kept saying that they were wrong and that she didn’t belong there. The next thing I knew, I was back home and at your funeral. So, what do you make of that? You got a package this morning, didn’t you? That’s why you’re here. You never would’ve come otherwise.”
Reilly tried to swallow the incredibly large lump that had manifested in her throat and simply nodded. She had to admit, she was scared. She didn’t believe her mom was a witch, nor did she believe that Carly had magical powers of premonitions, but she did believe that Carly’s dreams usually came true. And, that worried her just a little since she had no intention of dying any time soon.

My favorite childhood toy

Quickly, I jab with the left and punch him squarely in the shoulder. He counters, but he’s not strong enough, I throw a one-two punch and stun him into silence. Just as his hand comes up to connect with my jaw, my fists fly into a flurry of punches and jabs and suddenly – his head pops off.

I am “The Red Rocket”.

My opponent, The Blue Bomber, otherwise known as my sister, sits defeated. She knows the odds are against her. But she likes to play the odds.Sitting up straighter in her bean bag, she cries for a re-match.

“Two out of three.”

In the corner of our wood-paneled, shag carpeted basement, sits the long forgotten game of Pong. All the focus is on the ring of our Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots.I, The Red Rocket, am up for the challenge. Afraid of no one, especially The Bomber.

I roll my shoulders back, get a nice loose grip on the joystick and start the countdown for the match to begin. “Let’s have a good, clean fight.” I say. My sister cocks her head and tells me to shut up.

Suddenly, I’m hit. I never saw it coming. Checking to make sure I still have my head, I let loose a barrage of punches and counter attacks. Sweat pours down my nine year old face as I try to keep my head on. My sister, older and therefore used to winning, begins to smile.The bomber hits with such a force that my hand shakes from the impact. I’m still upright and still in the fight, but I fear it’s not for long.

Sure enough, The Bomber sneaks an uppercut into the melee of arms flying and I watch horrified as my head flies to the side of the ring.

I’m down.

I’m out.

But, do I give up? Does that dissuade me enough that I’d throw in the towel and go play with my Barbie Dolls and EZ Bake Oven?Never! Vengeance would be mine.I slowly lock my head back into place and say those important words.

"Two out of three.”

Another short story

The Writer's League of Texas has once again chosen one of my short stories. I've linked to the webpage (it's also a blog for the WLT) and have copied the story here. The premise of these stories is that WLT gives a writing prompt (the first sentence or concept) and writers go from there. In this week's story, the first two sentences were given. Enjoy:

Alma wanted nothing more than to tell him how she really felt about him before he died. She held the gun steady while she looked for the words.

She looked around the room she had deemed “hell”. Everything was perfect. Not a dust speck in sight. No dirt on the floor. Not even a loose hair from the dog could be spotted in the foyer. Martha Stewart had nothing on the décor. It was exactly the same set-up as last month’s cover of The World of Interiors. Even the white roses on the table were arranged in such a way that each petal was in perfect proportion to the other.

Below her feet, the gleaming white marble tiles shone like the sun and blended in with the lustrous mother-of-pearl banister. The expensive white pine -wood on the stairs was polished daily and looked new. Above her, the crystal chandelier dazzled the eyes with over 100 bulbs. Even the walls shone. They were painted snow-white with a white trim and molding.

To her right, she could see her reflection in the silver mirror. Standing at 5’, she seemed so out of place. Dark skin the color of molasses and her long black hair seemed to scream her presence in the opulent white room.Looking back at him now, she saw his fear. It almost made her laugh.

There he stood. All 6’5” of him. Shock white hair, white shirt and suit. Freshly polished white leather loafers on his feet. But his face, oh, his face. Finally his wildest dream had come true. Everything about him was white. The color of his skin had paled to almost translucent. It was too bad he couldn’t see himself. Oh how much he would have loved that!

Finally she spoke. As she pulled the trigger, Alma finally told him exactly what she’d wanted to say for years. “I’m NOT cleaning this up.”