All posts tagged: Fiction

A Golden Confession: A Short Story by Candice Coates

He sat his cup down and pressed his lips together in a hard line. She didn’t know if his expression was due to the bitterness of the brew or what she’d just said. “I’m sorry!” she spat out. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she tried to press the burn of embarrassment from her cheeks with her trembling hands that had grown surprisingly cold despite the heat of the cup she’d been gripping as if it were a lifeline. She’d clearly not gripped tight enough. She felt as if she were on the verge of death, dying of utter humiliation. Worse, it was her own doing. Why had she never learned to keep her mouth shut? At least she had already put in her resignation. Hazel eyes, that normally shown with flecks of gold, green, and brown simmered like deep emeralds. He stared at her, seeming to not blink, his lips slowly drawing from stiffness to softness, but his eyes continued to blaze. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gold,” she apologized again. “You see? This is why … …

Mad Mona, Monarch of Madonia’s Christmas Surprise By Rachael Ritchey

I know better than to answer my phone after nine at night, and on Christmas Eve to boot. I really don’t know what came over me … except as I think on it, I doubt my not answering would have stopped Her Majesty from knocking my door down. It’s not as though anyone else would follow her on one of her hair-brained schemes. Learning to skateboard and royal spaghetti-eating contests in neighboring Pastarea aside, she’s not always a loon, but Queen Mona isn’t lovingly referred to as Mad Mona, Her Majesty of Madonia for nothing. At least I’m not wearing a ridiculous red-checked tablecloth as a cape this time. Still …. “Doyle!” Her Majesty waves me over with a wild sweep of her plump arm, the roundness of the limb enhanced by the down-filled coat I insisted she wear on this winter excursion that is quite against my better judgment. “Doyle! Stop lolly-gagging, you overzealous buffoon.” “Of course, Your Majesty.” I approach her and take the hand she extends to me. Between myself and the …

What They Say: Fiction by Candice Coates

“The only time I want to see a whole lot of red inky letters on paper is when Jesus is talking in my Bible, not when I have to hand you back your manuscript!” Mr. Hopeheld drummed his fingers on his desk, the frustration in his eyes melting into compassion. “Don’t look so chewed up. You and I both know you can do better than this. This,” He stabbed his pointer finger into the tome upon his shiny desktop. “This was a distracted effort of lifeless words and that just isn’t who you are.” The tempered rebuke from Lloyd’s publisher a week ago had nearly given him an ulcer. The sad thing was Mr. Hopeheld was right in all he said. The only problem was that him being right had not helped Lloyd one iota. He’d only told him what he’d already known. Lloyd didn’t believe in writer’s block. The truth was he always had something to say, always had some character whispering in his ears, flashing pictures of their questionable misadventures before his eyes. But …

Handful of Hope: A Short Story & Encouragement

She wanted to see if they could float so with faith she tossed them across the sackcloth that would be the sky and watched as her handful of hope like diamonds suspended themselves and twinkled as stars. She wasn’t the King Creator, nor His Glorious Son, but she was born of His Spirit, and thusly imbued with the authority and call to create. She was learning how to do so with a voice and song uniquely her own, a song she longed to sing to please only His ears. So she tossed up another handful of hope and watched it twinkle and grow in light until the inky darkness bled away yielding to the brilliance of life. The cold uncertainty that had once made her limbs stiff with immobility began to retreat as her being grew warm with the fire of expectation and joy. Handful after handful of hope and dreams and faith jettisoned from her vibrant fingertips and ate away at the dreadful nothing that sought to blanket her with fear. Laughter erupted from her …

I Promise: A Short Story…A Testimony

“They’ll be safe here, I promise.” His smile bloomed like the radiant sun coming from behind a cloud, and with the same tenderness, it warmed her face and bathed her heart with gladness. She exhaled and hoped that the worry lines would ease from between her brow even if she couldn’t stop the fluttering that tickled beneath her chest. It was hard to leave them there. She had done this before so many years ago, but then… Reading her thoughts, His gaze turned tender, His scarred hand kissed the crown of her head before sliding down to cup her cheek. The feel of it washed through her like a gentle summer wind. He whispered again, “I promise.” And the storm within her ceased. She dared to gaze back upon them, the tiny, fragile seedlings that she had planted with hope within this heavenly soil. It was excellent soil, He had told her, and the words bubbled within her belly as if they were a child come to life in her womb. It made her giggle …

Words…Use Them Wisely

Life is more than words, but words do make up our lives. Have you ever considered how the simplest of words can change a person’s attitude either for the good or bad? Even the words spoken without verbalization have such great power. Consider a person who feels utterly alone, ignored and unseen. Let a stranger smile at them, genuinely smile at them, and that non-verbal interaction, those ‘words’ spelled out without sound, can push away the dark clouds in the recipient’s day. “Life is more than words, but words do make up our lives.”   God created the whole of creation with just His Words (Genesis 1). He spoke and it came to be. Our Lord Jesus is the Word made flesh (John 1). He, too spoke and things happened. He spoke to the fig tree and it died (Mark 11:12-25). He spoke to Lazarus and he was resurrected from the dead, (John 11: 38-44). Being a person of faith I am compelled not to take language and words lightly even though I often stumble, …

Summer Winds: Micro Fiction

The warmth was a blessed reprieve from the chilly winds. The sun shining heat as if its very rays were that which turned the leaves from vibrant green to royal shades of ochre, amber, and red. Fall had definitely arrived but summer was giving its last good-bye, kissing the atmosphere with crystal blue skies and a warm embrace. It was the last dance until the cycle began anew. Fall had taken the stage but danced with the last season to the tune of “Summer Winds.” THE END *Written October 17, 2016

Second Sight by Rachael Ritchey

The future we see through broken and twisted spectacles There is not sure sight to know the path We trip along, hoping to grasp a rail When in fact, none is to be had Not with our hands, at least Only our hearts can lead For our hearts see what Eyes cannot see Feel what hands do not feel Touch what bone cannot touch Deeper is marrow than that of bone The core of one life is beyond imagining When hearts reach out to search the blindness Our hearts can go to places our bodies are unwilling In the heart lies the soul of a man and desire to love is there Photo by Quentin Lagache on Unsplash *This poem was written by Indie Author, Rachael Ritchey. To read more of her works, including her published pieces, follow her at: rachaelritchey.com Twitter: Rachael Ritchey Facebook: WritingRaci

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 30th 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “She sat perched on the edge of the table, the tight fold of her interwoven fingers expressed the nervousness that had been concealed in the even tone of her voice and the placid look on her face. Turning fully towards her, s/he paid closer attention to what she was saying.” RULES:  Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line 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 “MondayMuse.” To get the Above Image follow this LINK 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. (PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE …

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 23rd 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “Heat spread across my cheeks as Mama turned and gave me that look, the one that said, ‘Don’t make me turn this car around, missy/mister.’ I choked on the angry retort that tickled my tongue and drew my clenched fist beneath my thighs in an attempt not to hit my sister Harriet across the back of her head. Harriet snickered. ” RULES:  Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line 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 “MondayMuse.” To get the Above Image follow this LINK 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. (PLEASE …