I came for the soup: Welcome To The Table

Faith Art Fiction

Welcome to I Came For the Soup!  I Came for the Soup” is about my exploration into my reawakened and somehow untapped creativity, through the expression of words, fiction, and visual art, seasoned with my faith. This Blog is me, chronicling my inward journey through outward vehicles of artistry, while hoping to encourage others to do the same.

If you follow this link to MY FAVORITE WRITES, (New Titles added every Tuesday) you will find a growing collection of some of my favorite written pieces, born on this blog. Feel free to leave your thoughts, browse through my drop down menu above for other creations and thoughts, and do feel free to share with others.

Also, feel free to read through my Blog Novel, titled ASCENSION GRAVEYARD. New chapters are posted weekly and feedback is always welcome. To read along, click HERE.

Enjoy the soup!

Lead Astray: A Horse Called Shenanigans Part 3 #Blog Battle Week 37

Hello all! Blog Battles are on and here is my entry. We continue with the GENRE: WESTERN with the KEYWORD: ARRIVAL. Here is Part 3 of A Horse Called Shenanigans. If you missed previous installments, click Part 1 or Part 2. To read other Blogbattle entries, click HERE.


Lead Astray: Part 3 of A Horse Called Shenanigans


If that just didn’t beat ALL! Eldy “Elderberry” Milcratt, lay on her side, eyes barely cracked open, and her hands strung up so tight she thought they would pop off! The horror! The words shouted in her mind as she recalled watching Side Nose Willy, slip into her skirts and slap on her bonnet all before all before putting on a show for Deputy Rufus Jeffery. Side Nose had awaited her arrival and caught her clear off guard!

To make matters worse, Eldy had slipped right out of consciousness right when the rouse began its first act and Side Nose Willy was escorted out of the jailhouse and into the land of freedom with every tin badge running around like idiots looking for someone they had just turned loose! Well everyone but Deputy Rufus.

If it wasn’t for the taste of her own silk stocking gagging her, Eldy would have called Side Nose every ungodly name she could muster, names as unsavory as the silks on her tongue! Side Nose Willy, or Willamenna as Eldy had discovered, had caught her unawares, clunked her over the head with the dinner mug, stripped her down to her knickers and shoved her under the cot!

This was not a very good week at all, especially since every dime Eldy had saved for her own escape had ridden out of town with that new bandit, Smokey Patches.

Frustrated that she had to work another month at The Milk House, and angrier than a cornered possum that she had been had, Eldy shimmied herself out from beneath the cot, slid her bare feet towards the cell bars and kicked til she knew she’d have bruises. She didn’t know who was going to be more embarrassed; herself for being found bound and gagged in her knickers, or the Deputy for seeing her so and having walked Side Nose Willy out without so much as a question.

It stood to reason. Most people didn’t much see Eldy anyhow, she was all but invisible, and Side Nose Willy had come in as a man and walked out as a woman, and not just a man in women’s garments but a real, true, bona fide filly with all the right parts and two melons twice the size of Eldy’s!

Goodness, the way that large nosed woman had strapped her chest dangles down had to have hurt. And the magnet she used to pin her nose to the side…goodness if beauty was pain, Eldy could only imagine how it ached to make one look as lopsided and busted as Side Nose Willy had made herself look.

Oh but when Eldy got herself out of that cell she was sho’nough going to make sure Side Nose’s nose actually bent to the side, no magnets required! But that was going to look genteel compared to what that Smokey Patches had coming. He could count on that sure as his raggedy horse was called THUNDER!

Pa had always said Eldy was a fine hunter. It was time she put her sharp shooter to use just as soon as she got her skirts back on.

~   ~   ~

Dalton could have called out a prayer once the sight of the Bath House came into view. He was beyond mouth thirsty, every pore in his body was screaming for water and if he didn’t bathe soon he was certain Shenanigans would never let him ride her again.

His blistered dogs were howling from the miles of walking the rough terrain and his face had to be all welted from the amount of times Shenanigans had tail-whipped him for the flies that had tried to take up residence around his pits.

He hadn’t bathed in over a week and had just made it to that old town when the robbery broke out. Now more than anything he regretted going to the mercantile instead of straight to the Baths.

Shenanigans whinnied and whipped at him again, snorting her nose and stomping her feet. Boy was she a pill sometimes. Dalton moved himself downwind and rolled his eyes as Shenanigans raised her head with a horses harrumph and led him into town.

Dalton didn’t care one lick how sad he looked being led into town by his old mare with her nose so high in the air if it rained she’d drown. All he cared about was getting to a bath and figuring out how to get himself out of the mess Shenanigans had led him into.

Taking that leading thought to mind, he pulled as far away from the mare as he could without turning loose her reins and walked ahead of her into town.

Body odor or not, he couldn’t chance her leading him into anymore trouble.


I hope you enjoyed this installment of A Horse Called Shenanigans. 




I’m Sure You’ve Already Noticed: Missing Monday’s Muse & Blogging Plan For This Week


I am sure you’ve already noticed (Those of you who follow Monday’s Muse) that there was no posted challenge for Monday’s Muse and, well, it is Monday so what gives?

In light of the fact that this week is Thanksgiving week and those big family meals don’t prepare themselves, I’ve decided to take this week off from posting.

Now, before you growl from disgust (as if you would) I do plan on posting my weekly entry for the #Blogbattle because, well, I am really enjoying the story I’ve been working on, A Horse Called Shenanigans, (Part 2). But as to any other postings…there won’t be any until NEXT MONDAY where our blogging world will continue to rotate as usual.

I hope you all have a lovely Thanksgiving week, those of you who celebrate this Holiday, and I will see you soon!


Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

The Right Time: Writing Prompt 1 Results


Monday’s here! And as I reintroduced Writing Prompts (not Monday’s Muse) by reblogging my FIRST writing Prompt in Thursday, I am also sharing my original results! I hope you enjoy the story and even give the prompt a try. Its good fun and a great way to get over dull areas in your own work. Cheers! And remember, Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Originally posted on I came for the soup...:

Writing Prompt 1: "3rds"Song:The Right Time, by Warren Barfield (Click song title to read lyrics and hear the song.) Album:"Red Bird" 3rd line in 3rd verse of 3rd song: "We were barely getting by" Note: From my view, I have chosen to count the chorus as a verse. To view the original Prompt & Rules, click HERE.

The Right Time

“We were barley getting by. Carlos liked to believe that everything was just fine, but me, I knew better. Seven days straight drinking could water and wearing underclothes that were so filthy they could stand up straight on their own was not fine.

“Life’s too short to be gripping all the time.” Carlos managed to throw that line at me every time I looked like I was going to wage a complaint. In all honesty, there wasn’t anything that Carlos could do that he wasn’t already doing…

View original 610 more words

The Long Road: Flash Fiction Results For Monday’s Muse November 16th 2015

Happy Thursday, ya'll! Here are my results for Monday's Muse writing prompt November 16th. To take a look at the original Prompt and Rules, you can do so by clicking HERE.


The Long Road


“The dour expression that had molded her face, courtesy of aching feet from too much walking in high heeled shoes, suddenly washed away as she came around the bend. It was far better than she had imagined. 

The winter cottage now washed in the glow and fresh dew of summer peeked back at her from behind climbing vines and wild berries. Her pace suddenly quickened, all thoughts of calloused toes and aches, gone as a sudden excited urge caused her eyes to mist.

She batted away the tears, happy as they were, but she didn’t stifle the childish skip and giggle that escaped her lungs. Had anyone else been around, she might have restrained her joy, a glitch she had mastered for most of her life. People, even the best intended, seemed to suck the joy right out of a bodies’ dreams as soon as they caught scent of it.

Gillian reasoned long ago that it wasn’t a personal affront from others. It was simply the reality that people feared what was foreign to them and most of the world had long since forgotten how to dream.

She never had.

Dreams were what had kept her going when her once dainty blonde curls bounced right out of her scalp in clumps by the Alopecia that had come unbidden. Gillian had always dreamed of being a princess, even when children teased her that there were no such thing as “bowling ball head” princesses.

It hurt, those beginning years of hairless wonder. It had been a long road climbing out from the waves of tears onto the mountain of love, love for herself just as she was, and love from another in her adult life.

Haddon Cray.

Haddon Cray had not only kissed her bald head once she removed her short-cut strawberry blond wig, but he even proposed, surprising Gillian with a greater surprise than she had given him.

Now three years married, still trudging down a longer road of near hits and misses with pregnancy, Haddon had done it again. He had made her feel like a princess, his princess. He had surprised her again with the cottage he’d gotten her as a gift. He’d definitely been paying attention as she mooned over the pictures in the Summer Living Magazines.

Nibbling her lip and readjusting the raven-esque wig she had donned solely for her husband, she pushed open the door to the summer cottage and rushed into his waiting arms.


Writing Prompt 1 “3rds”


As promised, we begin again with some fun writing prompts! Here is the very first prompt ever featured on this blog, called 3rds! You will understand once you take a look at the rules. I hope you participate and I hope you enjoy! My Results will be Posted MONDAY NOVEMBER 23rd!

Originally posted on I came for the soup...:

Original Graphic by Candice Coates Original Graphic by Candice Coates

TIME LIMIT: 20min (This is from the moment you put your pen to the pad or start typing…and yes, we are under an honor system here.)

DESCRIPTION: Music is a big part of our inspiration. We all listen to music. But how much does music shape the art that we go forth to create? Are we conscious of its affects on us, and if so (if you weren’t before) how can we take this knowledge and harness this inspiration to create something fresh and authentic and on purpose?


  1. Choose the cd that you are currently listening to/find yourself listening to the most, select the 3rd track on that cd.
  2. Play the track over 3 times
  3. Get hold of the lyrics, go to the 3rd stanza/verse and then select the 3rd line. (If your song does not have such stanza’s then just grab the 3rd…

View original 121 more words

This One Thing: Music Interlude and Word of Faith

Ecclesiasties 1:14;12:13  “I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind…The end of the matter, all having been heard: fear God, and keep His commandments; for this is the whole man.”

The book of Ecclesiastes was inspired by the Living Spirit of God and written by not only the wisest man to ever live, but the wealthiest man of all creation; King Solomon. In his lifetime, he had tasted of every indulgence he could, wealth was in abundance, of woman he did not lack. There was nothing under the sun that was denied him.

And yet, after running around the mountain of indulgence and want, whether of Godly pursuit or in the attempt to appease the longings of his own flesh and desires; he came to the simple and yet profound conclusion, that nothing, NOTHING else was of true value, all was as chasing the wind, except loving God.

The word “fear” used in the scripture in regard to the Holy God of creation, is not that of being afraid and cowering, but one of awe and reverence. To be totally stricken silent by the glorious wonder of the One you are beholding. At the end of it all, King Solomon had found his One thing. God was his one thing.

Some may be thinking, “Well, that’s all well and good for him, but I live in the real world and I have real problems and cares.” So did Solomon. Whether at your greatest height or your lowest low, there is nothing so sweet as the embrace of Yeshua Jesus but you can only experience that by giving Him permission to take you in His arms.

Yeshua Jesus longs to love you and be loved by you. He died for you as His greatest expression of His love because YOU are HIS ONE THING.

Romans 5:8 But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

I encourage you to listen to the song again, read the words and maybe even sing along. Allow yourself to be enraptured with the truth that you are His One thing and His desire is to be close to you. And allow Him to be your One thing, for in Him are all things and you will lack for no good thing! (Matthew 6:24-34)

Revelation 3:20 “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.”

~Poiema, Poetry in Motion

The “Novelty” of Organization: Tools For Creative Planning


One of the delights of being a creative person comes with the birth of a new idea to be created. All of us are born with an innate “creative gene,” but many of us fall short in not only starting the actually manifestation process toward creation, but the completion of the creation once we’ve begun.

When it comes to writing a full length novel from start to finish, there are several things that tend to hold us back from completing our goal.

I am going to address one of the biggest and yet stealthy overlooked roadblocks, and that is lack of ORGANIZATION.

Let me add this disclaimer. I am not a person who uses conventional outlines for my stories (This isn’t even a blog posting about outlining). In fact, I am a Stream-of-consciousness writer. (Basically I have a vague and yet concise destination for the story, but I let my free-flowing imagination get me from start to finish without putting on any kinds of creative restraints. )

I do however write down ideas as they come, and place them in a separate “spice rack” document to add into the story later.

Whether you are a stream-of-consciousness writer or an writer who swears by the trusted outline, you still run the risk of falling short of your intended goal without proper organization, and let me make that more clear: TIME ORGANIZATION.

In addition to your goal for completing a full length novel (50,000 plus words…really 70,000 to 90,000 for an adult fiction novel) you have to set long term goals that keep you focused, while at the same time keeping you from getting overwhelmed.

I mean if you only have 5 pages written why are you even concerning yourself with the cover of your novel or even the final title. First things first. Put up fences and stay in your lane.

I have written and completed several manuscripts over the years and yet none of them have seen the light of publication because they have yet to be properly polished. (One was polished and even queried…just nearly published but I am glad it wasn’t…it could use a bit more tweaking.)

Why? Because I have not organized my goals to do so and without restraints we run wild…or run nowhere. As the book of Proverbs says, “Where there is no vision, the people perish…”

I would like to help you all create a “vision plan” for your goals even as I strive to achieve mine.

Here is a template I’ve created to map out and achieve my novel goals:

Novel Progress Planner.jpg AGI have given myself 9 months (Novels are like babies to me, they require time and care to grow and develop) to take Ascension Graveyard from the creative mess it is today, to a polished piece prepped to be self-published at the start or close of 9 months from now.

The template is pretty self-explanatory, writing down and expanding goals from 2 weeks clear up until 9 months, while also having simple yet pointed daily goals. As the length of time grows from 2 weeks into 3 months, you notice that my tasks have gotten more detailed.

Below is a blank document that you are free to copy and use if you’d like. The basic idea for this organization came from a book on business planning, but the ideology holds true even for writers.

You will have to tweak your goals for the stage of writing you are currently in. If you are just starting a novel it is best to give yourself at least 3 months to write from start to finish.

A full length novel is 50,000 words at the least to 90,000 plus depending on genre. Science Fiction is safe at 125,000 words.

If you dedicate yourself to write 1,500 words a day for 90 days, you will have 135,000 words. This is doable for even the most tight schedules.

Novel Progress PlannerShould you choose to give this template a try, let me know how it works or doesn’t work for you. Consider even creating an organized plan for yourself with a template all your own, just make sure to organize your time and organize your vision in order to bring it to manifestation.

“Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. Conquer!”



I’ll Drink To That: Part 2 of A Horse Called Shenanigans, #BlogBattle

Hello again Blog Battle Tuesday! This week's Word is: BOTTLE and my GENRE: WESTERN. I am going forward with a continuation of "A Horse Called Shenanigans." Click HERE for PART 1. To read other stories by fellow blog battlers or even to join in the fun yourself, click HERE.


I’ll Drink To That: Part 2 of A Horse Called Shenanigans

Cleophas sputtered and spit out most of his sun warmed beer. He was already well beyond half passed buzzed but he wasn’t so in his cups that he couldn’t read good. More than anything he could see just fine, and that picture sketch of the raggedy mare running off from a bank with a bandit flapping in the wind could be none other than Shenanigans! And by default, his idiot nephew, Dalton.

Heck! He knew that she-devil, moody old horse anywhere, and the story to go along with it was definitely in line with her lack luster character. Dalton, well, he like always was just a prop in her plays.

Chewing down curses that would have earned him a good slap to the back of his head if his mother was still alive, he read the big bold letters of the paper again, “New Bandit Shoves Side Nose Will Aside and Flies off in Smoke and Thunder.” Cleophas let out a riotous laugh after scrutinizing the name they had given his thieving nephew, especially in the strong name of “Thunder” they had dubbed Shenanigans; “Smokey Patches,” They had called him Smokey Patches. They said it was for the patched up job he’d done in robbing Side Nose Willy and the smoke he’d kicked up in his riding off.

It was the worse name a man could earn for a pitiful crime as robbery!

If a man was going to have his neck stretched for a crime he could at least die with a decent enough name. “Your Pa would die right this minute if he knew about your life of crime, Dalton. That he prolly would tolerate but Smokey Patches, well that just can’t be forgiven.”

He leaned back in his chair and picked up the other bottle of warm beer. The day’s chores had ended an hour early and as to tradition, Cleophas shared a beer with his best friend…He just did all the talking an drinking alone since Rutger, Dalton’s Pa, had decided pushing up daisies was a less tasking chore than mucking out stalls.

To each his own, Cleophas thought swallowing down the malty brew. Staring into the sunset, crossing his booted feet at the ankles he said, “You know Rutty, we done our best with that boy of yer’s. Ain’t much in his head to begin with so we ain’t have much to sculpt if you catch my reckoning. But one things for sure, he ain’t never been a bad kid, now that mare of his,” He spit. “Best we can do is leave ’em in the hands of the good Lord, let Him sort out this stink for the boy.”

He took another swig, this time from his own bottle. A smile folding the silver whiskers of his swarthy face. “Mayhaps we can come into some better fortune ourselves. People like to know about new bandits and what not.” He sat in a few moments of silence, the caterpillar brows of his face doing a dance as if he could hear his brother talking.

He slapped his thigh with his calloused hand. “Now if that ain’t a good idea, Rutty my boy, I don’t know what is! Sell the boys tale to the papers, make it sound all sad and sob. Well, having you for a Pa is sad and sob, no offense. Truth be told you and that boy cost me a fair share of coin over the years, especially that dang mare. Me getting to make a few good bucks letting the world know how, well I’ll drink to that!”

~  ~  ~

Side Nose Willy felt like their head had been split like a Sunday dinner pie! Sweet Lord the pain radiated down into the very tip of their nose. Letting out a groan, Willy managed to sit upright and with that single action came the events that landed him right behind bars. If that wasn’t bad enough, the smug look on the inept deputies face really chaffed Willy’s pride.

“Well look who done decided to grace us with their consciousness. Its been almost three days you been out cold, taking up bed space.” A nasty smile spread across the man’s face. Willy hated smug men. “Now don’t you go worrying yourself about the bill for your stay, seeing as how you was robbed in all. We have a fine payment plan laid out for folks of your ilk. Its a stretched out payment plan if you catch my meaning.”

Willy’s eyes narrowed. The deputy continued. “In the meantime one of them gal’s from the Milk House will bring you over a plate to eat. We are civilized Christian folks here. Man deserves a good meal before he meets his Maker.” With that he tipped his hat and walked off whistling a familiar tune about hanging folks.

Willy leaned back against the cool of the cell walls. It had been a while since they’d had a good meal, the least he would do was enjoy it. Then, then he would make his escape and find that dusty mare that cost him his winnings and that idiot rider who’d landed him behind bars.


Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: November 16th 2015


OPENING LINE (S): “The dour expression that had molded her face, courtesy of aching feet from too much walking in high heeled shoes, suddenly washed away as she came around the bend. It (Add what your “it” is) was far better than she had imagined.”

RULES: Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or one of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes. Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of this  post to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “Monday’s Muse.”

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.


My results will be posted on Thursday November 19th under the FICTION tab, then the WRITING PROMPTS AND EXERCISES, then MY WRITING PROMPT RESULTS.