No Time for Complaint: A Short Story #AmWriting #SciFi #Fiction

He stared down at his phone, relishing the reminder he had saved as his home-screen. Without it he would fall to shreds, he would never be able to stomach what he had to do.

“Stop complaining. Stop complaining,” he mumbled the words under his breath, wiping the sweat from his palms down the side of his jeans. He always got nervous on these assignments. He wasn’t cut out for this line of work.

“What’s that, sir?” The driver asked, his water gaze-liquid from his senior age-glanced back at him through the rear view mirror.

Harvey smiled, forcing the heavy corners of his mouth to stay upward. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

The driver nodded and returned his gaze to the road. “It will get worse when you get older, the talking to yourself. You tend to forget a whole lot more when you get to my age.” The man chuckled.

Harvey’s stomached roiled. “How old are you exactly?” He couldn’t resist the urge to ask. He envied people like him, those properly balanced upon the threads of time.

“Seventy-eight this December,” he smiled through the mirror again. “Me and the missus have been going strong for fifty-eight of those years.”

“Oh,” Harvey’s head was beginning to pound. He shouldn’t have asked.

“Yes indeed! Me and Gladys have ourselves five strapping sons, thirteen grand kids, and three great-grands.” More laughter. “There are blessings to old age.”

“I would agree,” Harvey sounded more bitter than he’d intended. At this rate, he’d never know what it was like to be old, really, old…properly dead. As far as his accounting, out side of his thirty-one apparent years, he was more accurately two-hundred and forty-six.

His phone buzzed in his hands. A text message, the same as his home-screen came across his phone. “Stop complaining…Do your job…You are on borrowed time. Mr. Lemon doesn’t abide panic-attacks.” Harvey’s fingers cramped they curled in so tightly. He couldn’t help but panic!

He was going to panic. He always did when he was done ruining someone else’s life.

The car stopped and as if he was breaking through the surface of water moments after the threat of drowning, Harvey pushed open the door and forced air into his lungs.

Three deep breaths, and he was in the necessary fog that he needed to not complain, not panic, not make a mistake as he tore one more poor soul from the threads of time, sentencing them to a fate similar to his own.

At least Mr. Lemon would be pleased.


*These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt July 17th, 2017. If you find yourself confused, I apologize. This story is another thread woven into the world of  Mr. Lemon, Madelyn Haze, A Necessary Call, and so many others. If you stay tuned and follow my Author Site, you will get to find out a little more about Mr. Lemon and this world of his through my Debut Novel NEXUS GATE 4037: THE ANIMAL, Book 1 of THE MINISTRY OF TIME SAGA, Coming this FALL 2017/WINTER 2018! Stay connected and stay tuned!!!

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!


A Necessary Call: MicroFiction #Monday’sMuse #AmWriting #Fiction

He glanced back again, surely more times than was necessary. They had lost his trail and were no longer following him, at least he prayed they weren’t. 

He slowed his gait, but not so much to lessen the gap he had created between himself and them, but enough to not draw unnecessary attention to himself.

What he needed to do was get to Madelyn and he needed to know they weren’t on his trail anymore. If they got to Madelyn Haze…

Things had gone beyond tense between himself and her. His cover with her had blown the very moment fragments of her memory began to return. He thanked God the bits were no more uniform than the particles found inside a kaleidoscope.

There was time enough for her to know the truth, the real truth about him … about herself, but now was not the time. They needed to get away.

Feigning a chill from the slight blow of wind, he pulled up his collar and began to speak into the mobile phone he had tucked in the front pocket of his shirt, his voice little more than a whisper.

“I will be there in seven minutes. I need you to be ready, Madelyn. We have to move to our next position.”

The strain in her clipped answer was enough to show she wasn’t ready, wouldn’t be ready, refused to be ready.

He ground his teeth and felt the pressure clear into his temples. “Madelyn, they will kill you, or worse. Be ready.” He ended the call.

He ended the call only to have to make another. They were on his trail, they’d actually cornered him.

“Mr. Lemon, I’m going to need immediate assistance. Madelyn has been compromised and so have I.”


*These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt June 26th, 2017, and a surprising Part 2 to Miss Madelyn Haze. You are probably wondering who is Mr. Lemon. If you stick around long enough I promise you will find out. Thanks for reading.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Upon the Open Knight: Flash Fiction #AmWriting #Monday’sMuse #ScienceFantasy

He’d definitely found something. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he could just make out its silhouette under the blue-black blanket of night. His heart stopped when the light of his lantern stretched across it. 

“Lanny!” He all but shoved his voice through his throat, pushing it like a bully would another kid into a locker. “You need to see this!”

Slow as usual, Lanny Graves directed his mount to where Cedric’s light glowed in the darkness. Moving too slow for Cedric’s liking he hissed a curse and hollered again.

He heard the hoof beats of Lanny’s mount speeding forward. He felt them through the worn soles of his beats when he dismounted. He kept the light held high, made sure its beam stayed put even as he released his sidearm from its holster.

“What’s got you so scared?” Lanny teased.

“Quiet!” Cedric hissed back. He kept the light and his firearm aimed ahead but he jerked his head in the direction that Lanny has obviously missed.

Lanny’s quick plea to Jesus and the clumsy cross he made over his chest was sure evidence that what Cedric was seeing was not some trick of his eyes or an after effect of eating three-day-old pork and beans.

He might have thought he was dreaming but the throb behind his eyes, a familiar sign that a migraine was coming was testament enough that he was wide awake.

As sure as his name was Cedric Hays, laying in the patched earth on Circle B Ranch was a bloodied, pregnant woman in a crumpled suit of armor, her body half way in and half way out of what Cedric could only describe as a black vortex of death.

“Help me,” her words hissed out the moment her dull eyes snapped open.

A bullet burrowed itself a foot away from her head. Both Lanny and Cedric shouted in terror before the woman’s body came fully from the vortex and the dark hole around her faded from the night.


*I apologize for the abrupt ending but I feel like this little tale wants to go places that only a full-length novel can handle…no promises on that, but know that I am considering it! Nevertheless, I hope you were entertained by my results for Monday’s Muse May 8th, 2017. 

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Where All Roads Lead: Flash Fiction Results for Monday’s Muse April 23rd #AmWriting #Flashfiction

Even without his spyglass he could see the house clearly from that distance. Although the shutters remained closed in the middle of the day and the packed dirt road appeared virtually undisturbed, still he knew she was there.

He’d learned in the months that he’d followed her that she was several things. Mostly, she was fearfully cautious but equally predictable. He’d heard stories about her, little crumbs that kept him on her heels. Wherever she wondered, whoever she talked to the one thing she’d eventually mention was home.

How she even knew what home was, he had no clue but the farther east she moved, into the heart of the great, wide-open, nowhere, he knew where she was headed and it was truly home; their home before future’s hope was wasted like a glass of milk spilled upon thirsty ground.

From that distance, everything looked the way he’d left it thirteen years ago, doors and windows shut up like his heart had been.

He’d thought he’d lost her for good, believed she was gone in the grave but people talked, many talked too much and now he knew for certain that their story wasn’t over. He’d found her, finally.

All roads had led to home even though their old story had been changed. The finality of ‘the end’ being scrolled across the top of her mother’s, his beloved wife’s, shallow grave no longer held a period but a comma.

The end, he once believed it was the end.

There would be a new chapter, a new story for them. A broken-hearted man would face a new future with his wandering daughter who had somehow found her way home.

It was a story meant to be written. For thirteen years she had been telling him so.


*This are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt April, 23. If you’d like to see the full list or rules for the prompt and even give it a try, follow the link.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: July 25th 2016


OPENING LINE (S): “Had things gotten so bad that she was actually considering kissing a frog?”


  • 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 “Monday’s Muse.”

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


My results will be posted by Thursday.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!