Panther – Literary Lion


“It’s big.  The earliest print number two of one twenty two. I really think we need this one.”  I point the third down the hall out.   Emphatically, I wave to the others. “Best money.   Right here!”

Ronnie waves me off.   He has an Eagle print in sights.   Audubon prints highly collectable.   It’s a guarantee price, but lots of numbers out there.  

“Ronnie, check the number.   Early or late print. Ronnie, Ronnie!” I’m taking louder than I should.  The others hush me with hisses.

“We can only take four.   We agree, all of us!  Partners, man.   Don’t go artsy.  We know better, man. …”  Ronnie trails off his words.

I pass my phone down.  The caption “Panther in Pink” nets $55,000 at Sotheby’s.  He twists his head back at me.  “Grab it!  I really hate bringing you along sometimes.”

The four black cloaked figures run out of the gallery.   Alarms ring out into the night.

Written as part of a challenge called Literary Lion,


Drink Me – Literary Lion

Literary Lion. 72.

Literary lion prompt Drink Me
The challenge twenty five words only.


The Summit.  The patron and his disciple.

“It’s muddling of classes. Worthy rise above. .. ..  Apex sunlight… … sunk below peasants.”

“War and drinks. Next round, yours!”

The Big Gamble – Literary Lion


I play you like a game.  We both know it.  I laugh at it sometimes.  I let you gamble with me.  I’m your penny slot.  You are risking nothing and winning nothing.  Sure a dollar disappears, whoa I give fifteen cents back!  You’ll never learn.  I hope not.  This is my life’s work.  

“I’m so glad we went to Vegas!  It’s so glam! I can’t believe we are in a real pyramid!  Can we walk the street again?!  Do you think the girls would come to the room?  You know….to show people, men… A good time?!  It so weird.  The guys flicking the cards” Emily fights back the anxiety of it all.  A small town girl lost in lights.  Real bad people but what if they are real people.  A small town girl knows everyone.  Secrets aren’t allowed.  You embarrass the family. If you know did, what they do here.

“I told you. When I take you out of Indiana, you’ll be reborn!” Kiel kisses her on the head. “You won’t to talk to a stripper? I bet we can find them over on Industrial Street.  Strip Clubs.  Maybe I get to see you on a pole.  You’d be so sexy!  Would you spin for me?  Or would the dollars in the panties go to your head?” 

She blushes.  “I couldn’t do it. I love to watch them dance.”

Kiel’s mind flashes.  You lose!  Pull the handle gamble again! As long as you think small…

Emily smiles. “You know me so well. If I could do it….well, you would let me..right?  It’s not that I want to… Just I’ve never known someone who did.  Forget it!  I like the pyramid game over there.  Let’s go but a couple dollars in it!”

Kiel smiles. “Babe, you do what ever you want.  I’m right behind you.”

Kiel laughs.  He knows she wouldn’t go anywhere but back to nowhere.   She gambled and lost.  Now she has him.

This is a response to a challenge known as literary lion. Please see the details here.

The Edge -Literary Lion Challenge


This week’s feline growl has told me of the prompt ‘Edge‘.

You have a two weeks to craft your stories of 400 words or less. Remember to pingback to this post, include the tag ‘Literary Lion’ so we can find all your stories in the WP reader, and of course give me a shoutout on Instagram and twitter.

The line one crosses takes many shapes.   It’s not always a straight line.   It may not even be a line at all.  Sometimes it’s an edge.  A sheer cliff.  The place the heart sinks taking the body with it.  It separates the after from the now.  

“It’s a blur.  The last week.  I’m not sure how it happened.” Jacob sifts his feet.  The wind runs across the roof of the building.  It pushes his back.  

The parking lot looks purple in the dim light.  Traffic noises raise up to the seventh floor.  The world below is cut off up here.  It has cut itself away from Jacob.  The ties that bind you to everything around you severed.  Nothing is the sum of his parts at this moment in time.

The night air runs its fingers through Jacob’s hair.  It cool embrace makes the pain of his life diminish.  The call of no pain whispers in his ear.  His troubles slowly fade.  Time around him stop.

A filament of haze dances in front of him.  The swirl forms a pale outline.  The form sways side to side before him.   A face in grey, melting to white looks back at Jacob.  Black hollow eyes shift to pale blue grey.  The sharp nose draws toward a thin set of lips.  High cheek bones create shadow features.  The face is haunting, but comforting.

“Aaahhh, aahhh.  Oh my god!”  Jacob tries to talk.  His color quickly pales to match the spectre.  His mind can’t react properly.  His eyes see, his heart freezes his blood in place.

Her face is perfect.  Her features are alluringly cloaked in shadow.  Pale skin with outlines in heavenly curves.  Her thin lips form a smile.  She rides a current in the night air.  Bobbing up and down, side to side.  Her elegant hand extends to him.  Dainty fingernails, thin bony hand reaching for Jacob.  Peace, tranquility radiate from the ghostly flesh.

Jacob froze in wonder that grows from fear.  A dream has present to him. The thoughts of his loses mean little know.  The hand draws him in.  Her beauty can not match her peacefulness.  With a single step, he reaches for that hand.  The sensation is warmth.  Fulfilment never known.  A flash in the air.  His heart and being become weightless.

“Oh my God!  He just jumped!  He went through the sunroof of my car!   Oh my, oh my, oh my, oh my God!  Someone help!  Someone help me!  Why would he jump!  Why would he jump! Oh my Gid, oh my God, oh my God!  Why would he jump!” Amanda recognizes Jacob.  She knows why.


Literary Lion – Flowers For Me

Literary Lion. Bloom.

I might be fighting off the temptation to play sleeping lions here today but my feeble fingers have just about managed to pluck a piece of paper from my little jar.

The word is the very beautifully penned ‘flower’.

There are some exciting things on the horizon for Literary Lion, but in order to make room for the approaching antics the event is now becoming a fortnightly affair. So from this week onwards I am giving you 14 days to craft your post of 400 words or less. Please remember to pingback to this post, include the ‘Literary Lion’ tag and of course give me a tinkle on Instagram and twitter.

As part of the new and improved Literary Lion I will be choosing a favourite tale each week to link to in my next prompt piece, so have your writing hands at the ready…


Its a special day!  The air is electric.   Excitement oozes from Monica.  She walks around the apartment.   Her hand wrapped around the bouquet.  Finding the right crib for the new baby.   All her bouquets are babies.   One will surely fill that empty space in her soul.

The reds, and yellows are incredible.   One by one.   Stem by stem. Every flat space has a bloom.  Greens and babie’s breath are her remaining dance partners.  She glides above the floor.   Who knew a doorbell would produce such excitement.

She tried open the bedroom door.

“Oh my darling, you love me so much.   I’m gonna give you a little something.   I’m gonna give you a lot of something.   I love you so much!”  Monica sings to her beau.

“Now Danny don’t you have something to say to me?!”

Her bouquet goes sideways in her hands.   Her face loses it’s glowing smile.  She draws close up against him as he sits still in a chair.   Her hand reaching to his naked body.

  “I can tell you like this.   It’s better if you just give in.   It could be do good for both of us. ”

His silence is disturbing.  She undresses and strattles him.  

“Ok,  I’ll take off the gag.  But you’re going to get me pregnant.”

Literary Lion Eye of Stranger


Literary Lion. I see you.

Good evening my writing lions. It seems our little jar keeper has been watching me this week…

The word is ‘eye’.

You have a week to craft your tales of ‘eye’, in 400 words or less. Remember to pingback to this post, include the tag ‘Literary Lion’ so we can find all your posts in the WP reader, and of course give me a shoutout on Instagram and twitter….

Mandy woke.   Her head thronged.  Tossed like a sack in the back of an old car.  Her blouse no longer the crisp purple it started out as.   Her whereabouts a mystery.   The city grew on the left side and yes of a large park to the right.

Last night fades from her.   There were always drinks.  Was it a new man?   Did she make the scene again? Her friends told her before that she pushed everyone out.

A simple plan.   Find where is here.   Get home. Her red clutch squeezed under the seat.  The small car fought her for it.   The rear view mirror missing in action.  She was hoping for one through with a brush and looking passible.
Opening the car to the outside world, a small cafe presents itself a block away.   She makes a straight line for it.   A thin crowd passes each other on the sidewalk.   The people are starting at her.  Long enough to make eye contact, but doing it quickly.  

“Oh, good.  Coffee shop.  Butter Pecan Praline Muffins!”  Her gaze turns to the reflection.

Her hair is passible.  But the blouses lower half is blood red.  Her skinny jeans have the same red streaks.  What did I do?

“Miss,  It’s ok.   Come with us.   Your here to help you.” One of two police try to talk like you would to a psychopath.

Literary Lion – Dance, Grieve for the Dancer

Literary Lion. Happy Feet.
by Laura Gabrielle Feasey
Bonsoir my lovely literary wizards. This week the lion has two pairs of pirouetting paws…

The word is ‘Dance’.

You have seven days to tell your dance inspired tales, in 400 words or less. As always, Pingback to this post, include the tag ‘Literary Lion’ so we can all see your story in the WP reader, and don’t forget to holler via Instagram and twitter.


Spinning, ever spinning.  Left arm dangling behind.  Body wrenched in clockwise spiral.  The movement is awkward.  The decent is graceful.  The landing is all but.

Penny dusts off her pants.  Adjusts her shirt.  Fluffs up her matted hair.  And begins again. Rising on her right foot and crossing over with her left.

Gravel parking lots make bad dance floors. The modest crowd stares. A couple encourage more. Alcohol fueled performances are her calling card. Losing count of shots her specialty. Wind under her wings, the spin ends with arms spread and head bowed. A slight smile and she raises her arms higher and further back. The bird is ready to take fight.

Her balance fades. Backwards she tumbles. Penny flips for the last time heads up. Grieve for the dancer.

Water, Water Everywhere 

Part of a weekly challenge provided by Laura Gabrielle Feasey at


Drops of water.   Plunk!  Plunk! Plunk!  A small little trail of glistening jewels.   Destined to a fate of crashing against cast iron.  An unnatural clock ticking away time.  Plunk! Plunk! Plunk!

Thirty feet above black wire drapes between brick buildings.  The black wrought iron window boxes and black metal fire escapes color the dark alley way.  Shade has obscured most of the scene.  Windows lend a poor accent.   Closer to the ground a dark patch takes over .  A pool of water starts to isolate the world of the alley.  It’s path heads to a cover of iron.  The smasher of glistening jewels and origin of the growing pond is unaware of its role.  

High above a small change is brewing.  The drops begin to gather closer together.  Their size increases.  The light catches them and bounces off with a flash.  The strobing path shows its full path to the cable.  A silvery snake silvers back to the building.  The metal railings light up as the snake crawls upward.  The fire escape is alive with shimmering stream. 

 A low groan falls from the roof.  Creaking noises follow.  The wind picks up and hides the sound from the ground.  The water drops string together louder.  Plunks are now drips.  Steady methodical sounds become more  staccato beats.  Tempo turning up.  

A larger groan cries out.  The sound is of failure.  Creaking wooden boards loosen their burden.  Small lines of water appear through the gaps of the water holding tank.  Thousands of gallons to feed the building below are on the journey to freedom.  Ten foot tall boards ringing a twenty foot wooden barrel have served their time.  One board has tried to hold back the water’s constant pressure but subsided.  It’s neighbors struggle to hold on.  The water forces through twisting ever so slightly.  The gaps barely grow and the water triples in size and volume.   A last second pitch to restrain fails.  Five boards give.  A torrent rushes across the roof.  Ten stories below the sounds are about to change.  

The iron cover splashes a steady stream of water.  The hair thin line grows to a pencil.  A thin column of light in a dreary alley.  The sight brings a couple of glances.  But the sounds above mix into the city’s din.  A lone person stops.  Phone in hand ready to capture the moment in time.  

The deluge breaks free.  In a blink of an eye, the wave crests the buildings edge.  The water line disappears.  Replaced by an arc reaching the neighboring building.  Water fills the chasm.  Crashing sounds roar.  The lone person is no match.  Seconds split.  The speed of the water is amazing.  Water eats the world below.  A giant mouth flashes then spits everything out in the street.  The lone person sent tumbling against parked car.  Phone bouncing on to the hood.  Cardboard hidden from the light rushes across the street.  Traffic halts as the debris field races out.  The world of motion and noise halts to catch its breath.  

Then in another moment, the world carries on.  2320 Huston Street fades back into the shadows.  A little different but not changed.

The challenge details will be found below.

Time Stops


Tick, tick, tick….

The watch, sight unseen, keeps the pace of the world.  On the floor beside her, the very evidence of which time has left her behind.  The pool of red darkens.  Breaths get shallow.  The swirl of life fades in the eyes that sparkled moments ago.

A secret admirers gift.  A small box with the most lovely and rich dark purple paper.   A tag in the form of an unicorn.   Colorized version on the one at her right wrist.   The mystery person knew her.   Might have known her body.  

“This is beautiful!  I wonder who it’s from.   My tattoo!   Oh who could you be from?!”  The thrill and excitement run through her like a lightning bolt.

Tossing the keys on the table, she grabbed scissors to keep the paper.  It was such lovely paper.  The box was enough to fill both hands.  It was plain white, taped over several times.  This was a puzzle now. 

“Hmmm.   Do I need to work at you? Maybe will give you a shake.”

The package gets really warm.  A quick pop.  Sharp pain up against her stomach.  A flash of light.  Fading vision catches words under tape….from his wife.