(This post was created using writing prompt #309 from creative writing

Alice tried to remember who had given her the key. All of the last few days seemed like a blank slate of anything but that she had maybe breathed every once in a while. This morning, when she had finally woken up, or at least she had finally remembered waking up, there was a rather odd looking key sitting on top of her chest, staring at her.

“It seems very familiar…” she said to herself as she turned the little brass object over in her hand again and again.

“Alice!” a voice called out, as the body of a small, middle-aged woman came through the bedroom door. “Time to get ready to start the day, lazy bones! You were gone to that friend of yours for so long that everything has begun to pile up. Get up and start your chores!” that woman would be Alice’s aunt Mildred who she had lived with since her parents’ death years ago. This woman was part of the reason Alice never appreciated the real world for what it was. Mildred hadn’t cared that her own brother and sister-in-law had been killed in a greedy fire that had nearly claimed Alice’s life as well.

Dreams were much more interesting to Alice when her real life was severely lacking in many respects. In dreams she could do anything she wanted, and everyone thought she was important, she was the heroine in her dreams. Dreams, however, were just that, dreams, and regardless of how much she liked the real world or not she was stuck there. With that in mind, Alice got out of bed knowing that if she refused it would create more problems than solutions where her aunt was concerned.

Alice washed her face and arms in the small basin that sat in the corner of her room, and began gathering her usual day clothes. The key caught her attention again as it gleamed at her from the night stand where she had decided to place it, and when she picked it up again she marveled at how familiar the weight of it was, almost like it was something she had grown attached to, even if she couldn’t remember anything about it.

‘I guess I’ll figure it out eventually…’ she shrugged, and threaded the ornate key on a length of simple black ribbon before tying it about her neck. Once dressed in her usual style of a bright blue dress, white pinafore, and black shoes, she left to begin her chores. The little brass key accented her bright golden blonde hair making both of them shine even brighter in the sunlight. Alice decided that the mystery of the key would prove its meaning eventally, and thus left it to her mind’s vivid imagination to dream up reasons why.

Outside the window of Alice’s bedroom, a striped cat of an unusual color combination –black and purple– slowly vanished stripe by stripe. “I shall see you soon Alice, Wonderland will soon need your help again…” his voice drifted off into the breeze, and the cat was completely gone. He would be back; he always came back when Alice was needed.


From the perspective of a writer….

I am in something of a bad place in my life right now, because I just don’t feel like I am good enough. The newest Lydia Bennet video set off this feeling inside of me that makes me feel inadequate in a different way. This is not about me feeling horrible about my body image or anything, though that may have always been a problem in the beginning, but I have learned to cope with myself as someone who is not as skinny as a rail. I have never known what it is like to be someone who deserves the love of someone else. It is hard to be a girlfriend to anyone when you are forever seen as nothing more than a friend. I have decided to give up the ghost and admit to myself that I will only be able to be with someone who is as nerdy as me. I am very nerdy. I am just not sure what to do with myself when, as a writer, I feed off of things I know, and I can’t write about love if I have no idea what it is…..



Balicity, or Balicificiticity is this combination of completely random things that have all been meshed together. She started out as just some normal flying machine to get the characters of a story from point A to point B. Much growth came out of the character, and eventually she gained a dorsal fin. The fin was courtesy of a group of merfolk who had once owned her a long time ago. This was the least odd-looking modification.

Soon, she gained a new paint job from the LGBT group that inherited the spaceship known as Balicity. Now she sports a rather lovely rainbow-colored body. Definitely something that stands out from the other plain looking ships. Snake people were the next to have control of the aircraft, and decided to affix fangs to the front of the ship where they thought her mouth could possibly be. These snake-people tried to undo the random color, but were completely unsuccessful. After this group tired of her, a group of thespians came by and decided to use her to get to their competitions. When the group realized that there were all sorts of alterations made to the ship already, they decided to add something of their own. A magician was called in, and it was his job to make the ship able to sing show tunes with the people on board. Unfortunately for them, however, her voice was not at all beautiful, and rather ground on the nerves of everyone who was within a few hundred feet of her. Now she can sing entire conversations instead of just random show tunes, and she is completely obnoxious.

The greatest thing about Balicity is that she became something other people wanted to worship, despite the fact that she drove everyone else completely insane with her singing and perverted comments. Out of the blue, Balicitism became a rather popular religion with tons of people wanting to worship a crazy spaceship who sings! SINGS!!!!! In order to become a part of this religion, one must first bathe in the oil of Balicity, and then sing the song “Singing In The Rain” from the musical of the same name.

Balicity is real! At least, she is to me since I created her.

What Love Is…

What is love? This is a question life continually poses to everyone many times during their lives. Inexperienced people believe that love is the same thing as lust int that you have this inhuman attraction between the two of you for no reason. This is horribly incorrect. Love should feel as if it has always been there, but you only just realized it was there.

The person I love will know when to back off and let me cave in on myself for a little while before coming to help me put the pieces back together again. Love, for me, will happen when I meet that one person who will be perfectly fine with sitting quietly in a room reading with me until we are ready to do something else. We will be able to forget that another person is there long enough to drift off into the different lands of books, but also know (even if just in the back of our minds) that we are in the company of someone who is equally as entrenched in their reading as we are.

Someone learning to play any of the games that I enjoy, such as Dungeons & Dragons or Magic the Gathering, so that we can have discussion about which color combinations work best together (blue/ black!) that is what love is. Love is when you feel so comfortable with another person that you almost forget that there was ever a time when you were not together, because everything before that wasn’t nearly as comfortable as it is when in the presence of the one other person in the world who will be able to understand anything about you as a person.

Pine-Sol Scented Memories

‘Pine-Sol is the stuff of my memories….’ The girl thinks to herself as she sits at a table in her grandmother’s house. Her mother is in the bathroom cleaning up so that the grandmother won’t have to do it, so the girl’s job is to keep her grandmother company. The problem now is that she can’t. The smell of that chemical coming up the hall teases her nose, and takes her back in time to a rather large house.

‘Every week we would walk next door to the people we rented our house from, and mom would clean while I watched whatever children’s show she would put on for me.’ She breathes deeply of Pine-Sol that now seems as if it is coming from a room that is up a few feet from the living room of this grand house. There were so many rooms that had been there for the little girl to explore, and all of them smelled of the same combination of chemicals that she had grown use to over time. It seemed like such a little thing then, just a smell that someone got use to after being around it at least once a week. The present version of the girl knew better than that however…. she was well aware of the things that had changed since that smell had permeated the air all around her on a weekly basis.

Back in the time of Pine-Sol filled houses the girl has believed that everything was alright within her life, but it was now known to be nothing other than the Disney-like world that all little children lived in at that time. ‘I always thought that mom was like Cinderella, because she would scrub the floors by hand at times…‘ but reality took over eventually, and the girl now knows that her mom would only clean the house so that they would have a place to live.

The girls father had messed up that innocence of the Pine-Sol when he decided to get them thrown out of the house they had been renting, but luckily they moved to another house where she resides now. Every time after that the Pine-Sol would seem to come out less and less, as if it just wasn’t worth trying to clean up the mess that life had fallen into. The family of four, for there was a small child, a son, went on with their lives, and eventually the Pine-Sol completely stopped coming. Money became tight, frustration between the parents escalated into angry conversations no matter where the family was. By the time the girl had turned 14 that scent of Pine-Sol had become completely foreign to her, and she was having to act as if she were already 20 years-old. Her mother was gone on the weekends to work for a dying relative as a caretaker, and her father would be at home getting drunk, doing drugs, and partying. She became the only role model in her brother’s life. Unfortunately, he was having just slightly less hard of a time than she for the fact that he didn’t remember what life had been like before the Pine-Sol had stopped.

Every day got worse. Four years went by where every day the girl lived in seething hatred of the man that is meant to always be there for her, her father. Each day they would come to blows over something different, and if (by some magic unknown to the rest of the world) she did not get hit that day or hit him then they would scream at each other until their throats were surely going to bleed from the constant strain of using their loud voices in anger at each other. No one really knew that any of this was going on save for the girls few close friends who had been there since the family had moved to their present residence. The hope for things to eventually get better had vanished in all that time, and she was merely existing.

Two years ago the mother had finally divorced the father after finding him doing drugs when they had not had any money left to feed themselves. It nearly came to blows, but the father finally left and everything seemed to go into a limbo state where everyone was stuck in that time where they knew it was over but couldn’t quite fathom that it had happened. The Pine-Sol still didn’t come back, not even with the father gone, the source of all that had perverted the family life of two children, one of which could  no longer call herself a child if it meant that she were to act like she held the ignorance of one.

The scent of Pine-Sol finally came back today, and maybe…. just maybe that meant that things would get better again soon…

How to Cure a Zombie

Mature language and situations ahead, reader discretion is advised.

Good morrow Dear Adventurer! A powerful curse has befallen your village, and everyone, except yourself, has been turned into a zombie. It is up to you to find the cure for your village! Let us get started!

You must first fine the Miller who knows the Miner who knows the Minter. From him you will receive an axe. Start by finding the men in reverse. Once the axe is in your possession, travel to the north. This will consist of a 2 1/2 day journey where you will come across the Minter’s son Ernesto. When you follow him home he gives you a places to lay your weary head for the night: a cardboard box. After a rather atrocious night of sleeping and nearly freezing to death, he will hand you a ‘magical’ sack and chase you away. Once you look at this sack you realize there is nothing magical about it, and it was something you could have gotten at home without freezing nearly to death in a box. From here you will continue to go north and begin to veer to the northeast once you are past the Cactus of Many Faces who decides to make you dance a sillier version of the Macarena while he sticks you with his spikes. If you pass the test then you are able to continue on the way you were going.

Before too long, you will happen upon the apple pie baker’s shop that you had heard the miner’s, daughter’s, fiance’s, mother mention long ago. Here you will acquire both food and a plain looking jar and then continue on your way. Your travels will take you a day or so further north, and here you will find the Tree of Many Fruits. Many other trees surround him, and you must decide which tree he is. Throwing rocks that you find on the ground may be helpful, but only if you find the correct rock that is located down by the stream in the belly of a giant fish who decides that he wants to molest you rather than give you this rock. If you wish to go about finding the Tree of Many Fruits after dying a couple of times from the fish insanity you may just want to go about asking which tree the Tree of Many Faces is… of course, this all depends on the player.

The Tree of Many Fruits will ask you a series of riddles, the answer no matter the question will always be ‘not only are you a pig, but a dead one at that.’ In the tree’s astonishment that you actually answered his absurd questions correctly, you will have enough time to find the fruit that looks as if it were covered in blood and yet washed clean of it all at once. Put this within that sack that you nearly died for, and begin your journey back. This time, detour and do not return to that completely mental cactus unless you have a death wish. The cactus has decided that you are a ghost of someone he has never before met, but wishes him dead and will plug you with spikes if you get within  100 feet of him.

Eventually you will make it back to the shoppe of that apple pie maker, and you will take that lovely fruit you now have and crush it up into a paste after searching the millions of cookbooks this woman has within her home. Half-way through reading the Zombie Cure recipe you realize that something important is missing from this concoction… a piece of the half-crazed cactus has to be added in order for this paste to hold any threat over the zombies of your village. Hurry along to find this cactus again, and after dodging the spikes he shoots at you gather enough of the ones on the ground that you can race back to where the paste is waiting for the spikes. After these are added you are free to go, but decide to stay the night since it has been quite a while since the creator of this long-winded and pointless adventure has neglected to let you do so since you were see in the cardboard box at Ernesto’s.

That next day you are thrown out of the dwelling at the ass-crack of dawn and you hurry along to continue your adventure. It is at this exact moment that you realize something is quite heavy, and you have been carrying the blasted object since you left the village…. that axe that you had to waste your precious time finding when this journey began. You have not had to use the object that was weighing down your movement speed, and start to curse whatever God may be deriving amusement from this farce of an adventure. Still, you must adventure on or the ending of this idiotic curse will never come.

Ernesto’s home is not too far ahead now, and you are starting to get rather tired again as it has been a day or so since the last time you were able to snatch more than an hour or so of sleep. Deciding that you would go so far as to actually sleep in that uncomfortable box for whatever reason, probably because the writer here has gotten exceedingly bored and is tired of the constant whining you seem to indulge in. Ernesto greets you perhaps a bit too friendly, and offers you a bed this time stead of the box that he had to give you the last time you had invited yourself upon his land. The only problem here? The bed that he offers you is the bed that he himself sleeps in. You must share his bed, or you may move onward with your journey and not rest for the remainder of the trip. Keep in mind that you will die if you do not rest.

You choose to stay in Ernesto’s home for the night, and when you leave the next morning you have an aura of horrific shame. Something happened last night that you will never be able to cope with, and are not even sure that this quest you are on is worth completing anymore if you now have to live with the memories of…. that…. for the rest of your life. You do have to live with it, for you just gained invincibility for the remainder of this trip back to your home. Have fun trying to kill yourself, but you will not be able to.

Eventually you make it back to your little village where the zombies are still milling around mindlessly… You remember what you read about the past that you made, and remember that you have to rub the stuff all over your exposed skin and let the zombies flock to you. Feeding time!!!!! The zombies start to walk towards you, and begin chewing on every inch of skin they find. Everyone has been turned back to normal with no memory of what has happened to them during the time the curse was placed.

Something has gone wrong with your plan to cure the zombie, however. That invincibility spell that had been place on you? It wore off after entering your village, and now you have contracted the zombie disease that affected everyone only moments before. Suddenly there is an agreement struck up between all of the townspeople, and you are run through with a spear and your head is chopped off. You did, however, finish your adventure, and won the game!!!!!!! Congratulations on winning…. too bad you died and it doesn’t matter!

Dearling House

Emilie felt alone. She had always been the little demoness that her parents had doted on to others. Love had always been a part of her life, but that had been taken away from her suddenly. ‘Father is death, and Mother may as well have followed him.’ Emile though to herself as she looked over to the corner of the sitting room that her mother was currently occupying.

Mister Dearling had met his end by contracting a human disease that almost every demon or demoness was immune to. “Not enough travel between the planes– realms– of existence would have made his immune system become lax to certain illnesses.” the doctor had explained as the cause for such a sudden on-set of the human tuberculosis disease. “You and little Emilie do not need to worry about catching it, however. With all of the off-plane outings you two divulge in there’s not much that could harm either of you.”

Treatments for the disease had been tried, but the internal working of both species were so different. “For all we know, that damn quack of a doctor has been the one to really kill him!!” her mother had cursed the man to the Escape (what demons knew as the afterworld) and back for what she perceived as his fault.

What had made Emilie so alone, however, was that she had also been an outlet for her mother’s wrath. Emile was now the age of sixteen, and was allowed to leave the realm of her home without her parents. That last time she had done plane-travel she had commented that she felt slightly off kilter. A night of sleep had cured all of the sickness that had followed her back, but her father had been another matter entirely.

“How dare you bring human diseases home!? Your father could now very well die because of your idiocy!!” her mother had done nothing aside from shriek at Emilie for day afterward. Not that Emile blamed her at all for the anger, but it was not as if she had meant to get her father sick. It had been bad enough to wallow in her own guilt without having it tripled.

‘Mother will now only respond if the speaker is persistent enough, or to shoot me dirty looks from the perch she has chosen in the massive house.’ Emilie thought bitterly to herself. ‘Of the nearly fifteen rooms here she chooses the sitting room. Probably because it had been the one Father had frequented the most while alive.’

This day, however, Emilie’s mother decided to actually turn ad speak to her daughter for the first time in a few days. “I have been thinking, Emilie, perhaps we should find more suitable arrangements for you now that you are of age.” ‘And I am tired of being reminded of how much I hate you.’ though that last part went unsaid.

“If that is as you wish it, mother.” Emilie replied, barely keeping herself from voicing all of the anger she kept inside.

“It is…”

Emilie refused to reply to something that needed no reply.

“There is a rather lovely little wooded copse a little distance from this house.I have already purchased the home that rest inside the clearing. You shall be its owner by the end of this day.” the demoness said, despite being weak and weary, with a voice that spoke of finality.

Emilie’s dark brown hair flamed a deep red color that seemed to math puddles of blood. It was a color that spoke of the anger and the death that would have been cast on anyone else. “As. You. Wish.” she bit out between clenched teeth. ‘I hate you!’ she wanted to scream. ‘You’re not a mother! You’re a heartless, cold, unfeeling bitch from the human Hell!’


That night Emilie laid her head to rest in an unfamiliar home that was all her own. As soon as she had seen the home her mother – no not ‘mother’ but Andora- had purchased for her, everything felt much more right with the world.

Emilie resided in a cozy little house of her won with five bedrooms, and all of the necessities a proper home needed such as a kitchen dining room, sitting room, library, study,and each bedroom contained a private bath. ‘It’s enough that I could almost forgive Andora everything she has done to me.’ she thought to herself before drifting off to sleep.

Indeed, this rather beautifully made home was completely perfect, or would have been had it not been a hand-picked tomb for the young demoness.

That night, Andora sent a bird to deliver a message, which disintegrated two minutes after being read, to a band of reptilian creatures known as Kristhos who hunted rogue demons and demonesses. Never let it be said that they wouldn’t also hunt and kill non-rogue demonic beings just as quickly for the right price.

After little Emilie Dearling had fallen asleep that night, the band of Kristhos swept into the little manor, and preceded to rouse their prey.


‘Something is standing over me.’ Emilie thought to herself behind tightly closed eyes. Fear gripped her heart tightly and refused to let go.

“We know you are awake, little beauty. Open thosssssse eyessssss of yoursssss.” the creature hissed.

‘Obviously the leader,’ she thought to herself, ‘and if I open my eyes I have to face these creatures. Surely there are more than just the one who spoke. If my eyes stay closed, I am as good as dead anyway.’

Slowly, ever so slowly, Emilie opened her eyes, and what she saw was death personified. “Kristhos!” she gasped in complete terror.

“Indeed. We were sssssent here to complete a missssssion given to usssss by your very own mother.” the ugly creature spoke softly. “Never knew how beautiful you would be though. Not many demonsssss have blue eyesssss.” while saying this, the thing slithered over to gaze at her with a gleam in his eyes that spoke of hunger. Demons were a delicacy of sorts to the Kristhos.

“Hey, Bosssssss,” called one of the others that were surrounding Emilie’s bed, four in all, “why don’t we play with thissssssssss one a bit firssssssssst? Then we can eat her tasssssssssty flessssssssh.”

“What an ingeniussssssss idea!” the leader said in that eery voice that made all of the blood in her veins run cold. Then the four beings descended on the demoness all at once.


That next morning found a house filled with the green blood of demons coating everything in one of the bedrooms. Little Emilie Dearling had been ripped into nothing but muscle and scattered bones by the creatures that had visited her that night. Four bodies of Kristhos’ were found as well, and they were of a particular group that had taken to being mercenaries rather than picking off the creatures who went bad.

No one enters Dearling House out in the clearing anymore (either the one that is in the human or demon realm0), and the ones that do, end up as examples. Many a body had been found upon the lawn of that cursed house with letters carved into the dead’s flesh. Always the message was the same:

“Any who choose to enter,

Be aware that you are not alone in here. My spirit can not escape, and so now it is my turn to take.”