Spark Prompts 7 – Daggers


Here’s this week’s writing prompt for you. My response is below. Enjoy!

My breath robbed from my chest, I hunch over wondering if the pools of gray were the last thing I’d remember from this life. They cut through bone and through sinew until finally connecting with my heart. Why dear Rogue would you do this to me now?

His sweet smile void of any innocence shines back at me. He knows exactly what he’s doing. His dual-wielding pair of gray eyes flash once more like enchanted daggers. Staring too long back at them has rendered me useless. Instinct tells me to nock an arrow, to pierce him through his heart as penance for putting me under his spell. So why are my arms heavy as steel?

His gloved hand brushes back a chuck of my hair that has escaped from my braid. A cold shiver prickles my skin on this warm day. My stomach churns as my head sways, turning my vision into loops of blurred images. My knees buckle, threatening to collide with the forest floor. His presence alone has sapped me.

I curse myself for not sticking to the path as I should have. This adventurous soul of mine decided to explore supposed shortcuts. Hunters are expected to know the land better than others. It is our territory, our playing field. My bold steps have led me only to an inevitable demise.

“Why?” I force myself to ask him.

Rogue’s lips remain closed. Instead of answering me, he surveys my quiver full of the arrows that should be penetrating his core. Turning his attention to the left, it seems I have nothing of use to him. Would it be wrong to ask for my heart back then?

“If you’re going to kill me, please get on with it,” I mumble.

Head hung low, I gaze at the worn tips of my leather boots. How many steps have these feet of mine ventured? Will he take these from my lifeless body to sell at the market? What price will they hold if my blood splatters upon them? What else of mine will he claim as loot? These must be the nonsensical questions one asks themselves when death is certain. I close my eyes, forcing myself to summon the best memory I can from this life. All I see is his steel-gray stare.

My eyes crack open to steal one last look at him. With a hand raised, I accept the woods as my burial ground. Teeth clenched tight, I only hope the pain will be swift.

Instead his soft fingers touch my forehead.

I lift my head to confirm I’m not already dead. The faintest trace of a smile lifts the corner of his lips. His finger moves like the tip of a brush, painting what I assume to be a cross against my forehead. Withdrawing his hand, he pierced me once again with those dagger eyes of his.

The fur of my vest tickles my neck as a rush of wind sweeps through the forest. Pine and peat moss permeate the space between Rogue and I. Saliva pools in my mouth.

I’m alive.

My lips part to thank him, but the words stick to the roof of my mouth. If this hunter is to become the hunted, I will be his prey forever. He takes a step and leans into my side.

“Until we meet again,” he whispers.

Whipping around, I draw my axe, ready to defend myself. My jaw lowers when only trees stare back at me. He is gone just as quick as he came.

Sheathing my axe, I look around the forest for any trace of him. Birds chirp as sunrise creeps over the horizon. I hook my thumbs around the straps of my pack and resume my journey.  I may travel to the ends of every forest, see the rarest of creatures and tallest trees, but none of these wonders will compare to his dagger eyes.


Spark Prompts #6 – Today


It’s time for your character to give something up! What’s it going to be? Here’s my response:

“That’s it! Today is the day I give up magic,” she shouted into the bathroom mirror. Hands cradling the sink, she leaned toward her reflection. Bloodshot eyes taunted her. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept. Yesterday’s eyeliner dripped down her cheeks. Or was that from the day before? She closed her eyes and shook away her fatigue. It was then she felt his presence.

“You’re not going to give up that easy, are you dear?”

His sticky breath clung to her earlobes like a humid day. She hunched her shoulders to create a barrier between him and her, but she had known by now he would never leave her.

“I’m serious, Conscious. I’m done with magic. All I do is hurt people.”

He blanketed around her in the thick, black smoke he was. She shrugged him away as she tightened her grip around the sink. If only he were human. Then she could blast him with fire faster than taking a breath.

“If you give up magic then you will only upset your ancestors,” he hissed. He draped his wispy self around her. “And you know we both can’t have that.”

She spun around and thrust her open hands in the air. “How many more times must I prove my worth? Every spell, every hex, every healing… it doesn’t matter to them! If I’m to carry on the dark arts of my family, why have they forsaken me?”

She turned her hands face up. Dark red lines covered her skin like bloodied graph paper. Every spell cast required a sacrifice — her hands spoke as much.

Conscious solidified into his tall human form. He pressed his fingers into her shoulders. Dark bristles of his chin stubble scraped against the side of her face.

“You will comply with our orders,” he whispered.


She gulped down the helpless cry that begged to escape her. The subway-tiled walls seemed to close in around her, creating a polished white prison for her obligatory dark future. If she were to scream, would anyone hear her? No, she acknowledged. He would silence her voice to no more than a yelp.

She glanced over her shoulder back at the mirror. Conscious embraced her like a lover, though she knew him as nothing but a serpent. Seeing him so close was a reminder of their bond. Even if she ran to the ends of the earth, he would find her. He always would find her.

“Fine,” he sneered. “If you won’t perform magic then I will make you.”

Her eyes shot open once Conscious returned to black smoke. He swirled around her like a dark vortex sucking her in against her will. She looked down to see her lacerations open once more.


It was too late. Her wounds closed back up to red slits. Lips trembling, she approached the sink once more. Terror constricted her heart as she watched black pool in her irises like spilled ink. There was nothing she could do. They were joined as one.

What did your character give up? Share your response!


Until next post,


Guest Post: Interview with Jess Moore

This past week I had the opportunity to chat with Jess Moore about her writing and her creative process. To hear my responses, check out my interview with her here. And now, meet Jess Moore!

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Hello all! I’m Jess Moore, writer of stuff that usually falls in the Young Adult novel realm with one set to be published next winter by Ninestar Press’s YA imprint, SunFire, one trunked, and one work in progress. I’ve also written short stories, a handful of community interest pieces for the local newspaper, a children’s book, and the weekly blog on my website:

Where are you in the process right now?

Depending on the project, I’m all over the place in terms of the process. The children’s book is stalled, probably until I learn enough to feel comfortable self-publishing. I have a YA fantasy under my bed. I queried that thing forever, got some feedback through PitchWars, but just haven’t had the time needed to attempt the complete overhaul that it needs. My debut novel, a coming of age story set in the 90s, is set to release next winter with a small press. So, I’ve spent a lot of time this year starting my website and all that. Then, because I needed more on my plate, I started working on an old novel idea I found in one of my journals.

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What’s your routine like?

Monday through Wednesday, I’m up at five a.m. writing new material while my family sometimes sleeps. First, I jot some notes on ideas for future chapters. I have mad respect for authors that move on to handwrite drafts, but that’s not me. So, I move to the computer where my typing rate moves at a speed that’s closer to my thoughts. Then when a session is done, I take time to sit back down with my writer’s notebook and  predict what questions I think a reader may have after reading what I just wrote. This helps me plan, which is something I generally dislike. All my handwritten stuff is hugely unorganized and illegible for anyone but me.

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A view of her desk, minus the plant who lost in a battle against a cat.


The rest of the week, writing time is happenstance and categorized by thinking/planning, editing, or reading. Every other Friday, I bring ten pages of new material to a critique group. While there, we present our thoughts on the previous week’s work and hand out our new chapters. It’s been immensely helpful at keeping me focused and moving forward.

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What’s a book you always recommend to friends? Why?

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Book recs are one of my favorite things! Okay, my book coming out next winter is a coming of age story set in the 90s. Depending on who you talk to, it’s either contemporary or historical. So, I think I’ll go with Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell. Gosh, it’s five years old now, but it’s just a sweet love story that sticks with you.  I devoured this book in, like, half a week.


Thanks again for stopping by to share about your writing process!

To follow Jess on her writing adventures, be sure to check out her blog at and follow her on Twitter @it_was_jess


Until next post,


Tangerine – Prompt #5


Here’s another Spark Prompt for ya! My response is below.

“I hate fire,” he said.

She glanced up from her laptop. Her fingers paused from slamming the keys. “Then why did you become an incendiary investigator?”

He sucked away the thick saliva that clung to his teeth. Watching the billowing smoke miles away brought stinging tears to his eyes. His callused fingertips smoothed his brown beard before stopping at the roughened patch of skin on his lower right jaw. The sting of the scar dulled from the thirty days since the incident.

“Because someone needs to figure out what or who is starting these damn fires,” he said.

“Working on it,” she said as she resumed typing.

The dirt kicked up from his boots as he followed the blackened trail through the grass field. He snatched up a handful of tall green grass that bordered the burn scar. Lifting the torn blades to his face, the herbaceous scent tickled his nose. He slid his tongue against the seeping end of a blade, proving the grass was as fresh as a spring day. It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense. Why would the fire spread in a geometric pattern?

Tossing the batch of sample grass down, he bent over to meet the blackened soil. He scooped up a small amount of dirt and brought it to his nose. An inquisitive hum escaped him. No scent of kerosene, no sulfur… just smoky ash. How could this fire have been started?

“You’re sure this is the starting point,” he asked over his shoulder.

“As sure as our need for rain.”

Soil spread between his fingers as he returned the dirt back to the ground. He turned around and put his hands on his hips. “Well, what do we know so far Janis?”

She slid a flattened hand underneath her laptop. Steadying her feet, she stood up while holding her computer balanced with one hand like a waitress with a platter of cocktails. She joined him down the burned path and presented him a view of her screen.

“As you can see Melvin, it’s following exactly the same fire we found at the north fork. These right angles here show that whoever or whatever started this fire was somehow able to construct the direct path. It’s not like it’s a wildfire, even though this is the wildest batch of fires I’ve ever seen,” she said.

Thermal images splayed across the screen, mapping out the recent fires like squished rainbows. He furrowed his brows as he studied the data. Something wasn’t right. He tapped the screen.

“What’s with this blip of color here?”

She leaned closer to where Melvin pointed. “That seems to be where the ignition begins. What’s weird is it seems to be coming from the sky like lightning.”

He looked at her with incredulous eyes. “But we haven’t had storms in over six months.”

She bit the edge of her lower lip. “Right…”

He looked up from the screen out to the orange horizon. If they didn’t figure this out quick enough the world would turn into a global inferno. He blinked away moisture as he turned his head to the ground, his eyes grateful to be away from the resonating heat. It was then he saw it.

A scant amount of purple goo bent blades of grass back. He went to his knees to inspect the substance further. He threw caution aside as he placed his bare fingers into the goo. Upon pulling his hand back, a trail of sticky purple connected him with the grass.

“What the…”

“Mel, what is it?”

He squished the goo between his fingers. The heat of the substance intensified the more he kneaded it in his hand. Thin hairs on the back of his neck stood upright . He looked up to the cloudless sky.

“Whatever it is, I know it’s not man made.”

Got a response of your own to share? I’d love to read it!

Until next post,


Questions Only – Prompt #4

Questions only

An ode to the numerous reruns of Whose Line Is It Anyway? that I’ve been watching of late. I hope you enjoy.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Do you think I should open it?”

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“What if we didn’t do the spell right?”

“Would you just trust me?”

“Have you forgotten what happened last time?”

“Why must you bring that up again?”

“What if the cup isn’t in the box and we’ve come all this way for nothing?”

“Would you hurry up already?”

“Can you give me a second?”

“Could you take any longer?”

“What the –”

“Is that a baby dragon?!”

“Isn’t it adorable?”

“How could this be possible?”

“Should we keep it?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Aren’t they supposed to bring good luck?”

“Since when do you believe in luck?”

“What should we call it?”

“What is this we you speak of?”

“Gosh, you really hate dragons, don’t you?”

“Can we just get out of here?”

“How ‘bout we call him Gilbert?”


“You don’t like it?”

“How do you even know it’s male?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Since when did you become a dragon expert?”

“Did I not tell you about my dragon hunting days?”

“Why would you waste your time with that?”

“Seems to be prudent now, doesn’t it?”

“Can you put him away so we can get out of here?”

“Put who away?”

“Can you put Gilbert away so we can get out of here?”

“Where are your manners?”

“Can you please put Gilbert away so we can get out of here?”

“Do you think he’ll be all right cooped up in this box?”

“Hasn’t he been fine all this time?”

“It would appear that way, huh?”

“Wait, is that the authorities?!”

“Could you keep your voice down?”

“Can you hurry up?”

“Can’t you see I’m trying?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Is it me or has Gilbert doubled in size?”

“Are you kidding me?!”

That sure was fun. 🙂 What scene did you come up with? Feel free to share!

Until next post,


Spark Prompts #3 – Darkness


My response:

The young man scoffed. “That’s just your excuse to make bad decisions.”

“An excuse? No, Demtri. It’s simply an explanation as to why we do what we do,” his older brother remarked.

Demtri scrunched his face, the urge to argue diminishing with the cool air of the evening. Instead, he pulled up his hood over his head before gripping the edges of his cape.

“Can we get this over with Josef? The sun will be up before we know it,” he whispered.

His brother flashed him a grin. “Now that’s more like it.”

Down the alleyway they sprinted, jumping over trashcans and dodging debris with grace given to them by their feline hybrid blood. The roughened pads of their feet muffled their footsteps. No one would know they were coming. Demtri continued to follow Josef, their movements synchronizing like a symphony. Upon reaching the street, his older brother shot out a cautious hand to stop.

“Now we wait,” Josef whispered.

Demtri tucked strands of his thick black hair back into his hood. Maintaining an unrecognizable identity would be for the best. If the public knew what they really were it would be the death of them. Still, he considered whether or not such an outcome was certain. Would the authorities really kill him and his brother if they were caught? What if there were other hybrids of the dark just like them?

“There. That one,” Josef said with an extended finger.

Demtri traced the direction with bright eyes, curious to see who would be their intended prey. What he didn’t expect was a beautiful olive-skinned woman waiting by the bus stop. He squint his eyes to focus on her. Her lips parted as though whispering, but by the way she swayed her hips Demtri concluded she whispered a song stuck in her head. The way she fiddled with the ends of her chestnut hair made his pulse quicken.

“N- no. I don’t think she’s got anything,” Demtri said.

“Oh? And why not? She’s young, she’s alone, and judging by the size of her coat, I’m sure those pockets are holding plenty,” Josef said with a sly smile.

Demtri strained his neck as he looked to the left and to the right for any other possible victim. Only traffic lights and littered gutters extended in both directions. The poor woman left them only one choice.

“Let’s go,” Josef commanded.

The pair rushed the woman, circling her on both sides. She shrieked once they approached her. Josef grabbed the lapel of her coat and peeled it off of her. Buttons popped from their seams before clinking as they met the ground. Demtri dove for the coat and began fishing through its pockets. He shoved a coin purse into the inside of his cape.

“Get off of me!” the woman cried as Josef wrapped his arms around her.

“It will be over soon,” Josef said.

“Well, I tried to warn you,” she whispered.

The woman gripped Josef’s forearm and stepped to the right. In one fluid movement, he flipped over her and collided to the ground. He cried out in pain as the back of his skull bounced on the concrete. She mounted him and pinned both his outstretched arms to the ground.


Demtri threw the coat aside and charged the woman. He grabbed her shoulder in an attempt to free his brother. A low hiss emitted from her as she spun toward Demtri. Before he knew it, he found himself on his back. The woman pounced onto his torso, pressing her knees into his ribs. Demtri’s eyes widened as he watched the woman’s irises transform into black slits. She bent forward, her face only inches away from him. His breath became light as a feather.

“You’re one of us too,” he whispered.

What did you think of this dark tale? Got one of your own? Feel free to share!

Until next post,


Spark Prompts #2 – Extraordinary


Her laughter shot up to the treetops, threatening to reveal their location.

“That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve heard all day!”

His gaze met the tips of his leather boots, her words shrinking him further than his three-foot dwarven stature. A twig snapped underneath his heel as he swept the forest floor.

“So much for being honest,” he murmured.

Her laughter faded into a sweet sigh. She traced his jawline through his thick beard before lifting his chin with her knuckle, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Daknar, I’ve never heard you speak in that manner. You’ve slain dragons, wear their hide as armor, for the Maker’s sake, but now you speak in terms as flowery as the spring’s meadow? It’s not like you,” she admitted.

“That may be,” he whispered.

He leapt up onto the tips of his toes. Wrapping his arm around her neck, he pulled her down to his level. She let out a yelp before her lips curled into that smile of hers, the same one she greeted him with at their first meeting.

“But your effect on me has always been a good thing, Faelena.”

Their lips pressed together, warming him like a bonfire. It had been too long since he’d had the pleasure of inhaling her intoxicating honeysuckle-scented skin. After another moment lingered, she pulled back and cradled his callused hands in hers.

It was then he saw it. Sorrow stole her smile. Her gray eyes glossed over with tears. She sniffed as she broke from his embrace.

“Faelena, what’s the matter?”

“We don’t have much time,” she whispered.

He failed to suppress a scoff. “Please don’t spoil our time together with the formalities. Come, sit with me and let’s enjoy each other’s company.” He fished through his leather pack, tossing items onto the leaf-speckled ground.

“Here, I brought you something.”

Lifting his hand, he presented her with a gift that cost him nearly all his earnings. Silver chain draped over the edge of his hand. The oval centered stone shone bright like the stars in the summer’s night sky.

“For you, my love,” he said as he presented the necklace to her.


Seeing the bright white reflect in her eyes was all he needed. He knew it was her favorite.

“Allow me,” he offered as he waved her closer.

Reaching behind her, Daknar secured the ends of the chain together. The silver draped across her ivory skin as if it had belonged there all along. She turned around and flashed a smile brighter than the stone she wore.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he replied.

They exchanged smile for smile, Faelena’s cheeks reddening right before him like a rose in full bloom. A breeze blew through the trees, leaves falling like rustic raindrops onto their heads. Daknar reached out to brush back a chunk of her gray hair.  He hooked it behind her pointed ear before dropping his hand down to the nape of her neck to pull her closer. She gripped his forearm.

“Why do we continue to fool ourselves? We can’t be together. We’ll never be,” she groaned.

“We are here right now, Faelena. Of course we can be together.”

“Ha, a dwarf uniting with an elf?! Have you forgotten the war just across the river? Our people will never be at peace. The elves would kill me where I stand if they caught us being intimate, no less just speaking with each other.” She shook her head. “I should’ve never let you seduce me.”

Daknar chuckled. “Me seduce you? Oh no, my dear. You were the one to seduce me. I had never seen a woman wield an axe the way you do. Such strength and such elegance. Of course I had to speak with you.”

“Even though you stumbled on your words like a drunk in the dark,” she jeered.

“Yes, yes I did. But if I hadn’t we wouldn’t be here now.”

He pulled her close, his head resting against her chest. He closed his eyes to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

“You worry too much,” he whispered.

“Perhaps you don’t worry enough, Daknar.”

Looking up at her, he recognized the sorrow returning to her face. He pressed his thumb into the cleft of her chin. True as the sun setting in the west, their lives were in danger. But being with her gave his life purpose. She shed light onto his otherwise dark world. To be with her was worth any risk.

“Faelena, let them come right now and shoot me dead with the truest arrow if it would please you. My love for you cannot be bound. In this life and even into the next, nothing will stop me from finding my way back to you.”

She grabbed the lapel of his tunic and drew him in for another kiss.

Enjoy this writing prompt response? Let me know! And always, feel free to share your response. I love reading them!

Until next post,