Illusions: Flash Fiction by Candice Coates

They were still following behind. Good. Just a few more miles and all of this would be over soon.

She gripped the steering wheel with her lambskin gloves and resisted the urge to gun the gas. Patience, she told her self. She could hold out a little while longer. It also wouldn’t make sense to lose control of the car just because…

She blew out another strained breath and peered out her side mirror.  Guilt niggled at her insides. It had been doing so since that entire time and nothing she did could drawn out it sound, not even the radio.

She’d long since turned that off. It wasn’t helping. If anything it was making her anxiety worse and the edge to be on the other side of this stretch of road sharper than an executioner’s blade.

She eased on the gas as the destination grew larger and the car behind her pulled closer to her bumper.

Almost with a battle cry, she thrust her hand beneath her car seat and pulled it out again, thrusting it out the window.

“Here!” She didn’t mean to shout. Neither did she mean to splash milk that smelt like it had spent far too much time in the blazing heat of the car at her brother-in-law.

“Daddy!” Her nephew, Felix, giggled at his father making his aunt’s mouth fall open. It was as if the child was the real-life Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde the way he switched from wailing fog horn to angelic being descended from the heavens.

Illusions, they were all illusions.

At least she had played the part of the dotting aunt for a spell, another illusion. The smile on her sister’s face mirrored by that of her brother-in-law were true, however. And that is what made the illusions all worth it.


*A strange twist to my tale. The story of the flustered aunt won over that of the potential assassin. Such is life. These are my results for MONDAY’S MUSE WRITING PROMPT MARCH 5th, 2018.


Easier Said: Micro Fiction #Monday’sMuse #AmWriting #Drama

She stood paralyzed in the face of destruction, knowing full well she should run for cover. But the way the wind seemed to snatch the air from her lungs, kept her in place, no, it drew her closer toward the danger. 

The image before her, the one of the storm, was just that, an image. The truth was her love life was the storm drawing her into danger with enough gale-force winds to tear her entire world apart.

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, she took a sip of her chai tea latte and backed away from the image that had the power to evoke such trepidation in her world.

She’d heard the cliche that a picture spoke a thousand words. This one gave a full on saga detailing what was ahead if she didn’t follow her gut and cut things off with her beau as soon as possible.

Sad thing ones, some things were easier said than done…kind of like running out of the path of a storm that appears out of nowhere.


*These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt August 7th, 2017. The tale is short and sweet, but I have to admit it took a wildly different turn than I had thought it would go. Nevertheless, one should always follow their muse!

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Like Sunshine

The taste of his lips made her think of sunshine, the way it gently warmed her evoking a smile. The pleasure if it was new, his kiss, she’d never been kissed before, and yet this felt right.

He was right.

The wait for this moment, the diligent guarding of her heart had led her to feel like a lone soldier keeping vigil over the sacred, and this was sacred, the melodic play of his lips with hers.

The sense of blooming in her soul, called forth by such intimate waters, was meant to flourish into a garden where more life would grow. And it would grow with sweetness and hope.

And it all began with a precious kiss.


~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!


Worth the Sunshine: Micro Fiction #Fiction #AmWriting #Story

“You’re never going to find it!” She yelled at his back. The melodic giggle of her teasing voice made him continue his search. 

The car keys, what sane man would give his three-year-old the car keys? “One who is trying to convince his little girl that she is a big girl,” he shook his head at his own folly, wading through the cheery blooms of sunflowers whose faces seemed to follow him like they did the sun.

Sure, there were other ways to help her feel like a big girl. He could have been a bit less adventurous and simply taken the training wheels off her tiny bike. That would have given her confidence. “Along with several scrapes and bruises, and probably a broken limb.” He whispered to himself still continuing his search.

All of this trouble was just to convince her to sleep in her own room. He laughed at himself and stared back at the picture of his wife, their little girl grinning widely in his arms.

“Don’t give up, Daddy!”

Stopping in his place, fisted hands on his hips in mock anger he said, “But I thought you said I would never find them?”

She giggled again and buried her cherub face in her mother’s hair before her large brown eyes darted over to the public trash can. It was her usual slip when she played her practical jokes.

His heart sank, but at least his hope rose. Heaving a resigned breath he made his way to the trash can, shaking his head at his wife as she insisted they call for a tow.

The moment he touched the can his little girl shouted with sunny joy, clapping her sticky hands as she hailed him her hero.

All he could do was laugh, his pride rising at her loving praise of him. Parenting was messy business but it was certainly worth the sunshine, especially when it meant he got to be the hero.


*Honest answer…I forgot to do the prompt up until a few moments ago BUT I did enjoy my imagination giving birth to a light-hearted story. I hope you enjoyed the read. For the original prompt and instructions, see Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt July 10th 2017.

~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!

Web of Flowers: Micro Fiction #Monday’sMuse #AmWriting #Drama

She rode her bike as far into the pasture as the tall plants would allow. Taking a breath, and putting up the kickstand, she let out a scream, praying that she’d gone far enough.

She’d gone far enough in other ways, said too much, allowed her heart to get entangled in webs that no spider would dare dance upon let alone spin. Now she was stuck, just as stuck as the tangle of wildflowers that clogged the spokes of her bicycle wheels.

Panting from the tension that stretched her chest, she knelt down and tore away plug after plug of busted flowers. The scent of their sap saturated her fingers promising to leave a faint reminder of where she’d been and what she’d done.

It would be no different than with the rest of her life; the scent of her actions, the evidence of her trying to pull herself free would always trace her existence.


*I know, you are probably wondering what is that she has done. The feelers of my mental muse are still seeking answers to that and may have actually found them. But on the other hand, I am not even sure the answer matters. These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt June 5th, 2017. Follow the link to give it a try yourself!

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Like Licorice: Micro Fiction #Monday’sMuse #AmWriting #Romance

He kissed her. Her mouth tasted like licorice, the cherry kind. It was far more tolerable than the black. The kiss was beyond tolerable.

That was the part that scared him the most.

Trying to pause the moment, he held on to her fingers and refused to let them go. It wasn’t as if she were trying to free herself. That would have made an already delicious and yet seemingly awkward moment far worse.

She was like a sister to him! They hadn’t quite grown up together being separated by a mere four years. But they had spent a lot of time together since he was friends with her older sister.

He blew out a breath and thanked the Lord he’d never dated either of them. Jules was still in the sister-friend zone, but Laney . . .

He loosened his grip on her fingers but still kept her in lingering touch. He studied her face, watched as her dark lashes fanned across the curves of her upper cheeks.

He wondered what she was thinking. He wished he could read her mind.

He wanted to kiss her again. He smiled when she looked him in the eye and kissed him the second time.


*These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt May 29th, 2017. 

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: May 15th 2017 #AmWriting #Fiction #Monday’sMuse

OPENING LINE (S): “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.”


  • 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.”
  • 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 and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.


My results will be posted by Friday.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Empty Cups: MicroFiction #AmWriting #Words #Romance

I wouldn’t say she was beautiful, more unique than anything, but she definitely had the kind of face that was unforgettable. It wasn’t in a bad way either.

The way the planes and curves of her cheeks, lips, and bones played with shadow and light did something to a man’s mind. It did something to mine.

Even now I see her image. I can even hear her laughter. The tone of it has left a scar as deep as my marrow and just as familiar as the freckles on my calloused hands.

I wish I could say things ended well. More than anything they simply ended. My call, my shot, my rules and my way . . . I was doing her the favor by being by her side, wasn’t I? I was the pretty one they said. I was the one that was so full of life.

I was full of something and that goes without saying.

I was full of her. The truth is I am nothing more than an empty cup, sat on a ledge waiting for someone else to fill me.

Sad truth is I only want her.


~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Distance: Micro Fiction


Distance: Micro Fiction

She pressed her lips together and tried not to speak though the words pushed against the resistance of her tongue, making it ache.

All of her emotions seemed to crash together in that instance and wanted to pour from her like waves thrust forth by violent gales.

But she held back. Even as he stared at her, his honey-brown eyes easing away from the near molasses shade they had crept into upon the climax of their argument. There was nothing more left to be said, not for her.

The tension was far too thick the ends at which they each stood seemed for too distant to bridge, so silence remained her response. Silence and the sting of tears that turned her dark eyes glassy.

She attempted to turn away from him, watching the kaleidoscope of emotion play against the plains of his face lest the sob that was like a fist driving up her throat was given over to sound, but she couldn’t.

The dam broke the moment his hand found her nape and drew her forehead against the safety found in the hollow of his neck and shoulder. There she cried and there he held her, silent save for the kisses against her temple that told how he loved her.


~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!