#52weeks52stories “Dream a Little Dream”

Week 26…and half of 2018 is gone! 😱


She was here.

His day went from good to great.

Everything else fell away from his viewpoint as he focused on her every movement.

After clearing the east entrance to the park, she loosened the harness on the huge malamute and looped the leash around her wrist.

Mark Evans had seen his mystery woman at the park enough to know the massive dog who could be mistaken for a small furry horse, was named Midas.

Though his size was intimidating, Mark had never seen the dog misbehave and was sure his mystery woman had no need for the leash.

via #52weeks52stories “Dream a Little Dream”

#52weeks52stories “Soar”

Week 25! 😉


Feu soared through the sky, the chill of early morning giving him energy and spurring him on.

He flew higher, touching the edge of the atmosphere where the air was the thinnest before swooping down to the clouds.

Stretching his wings wide, Feu closed his eyes, gliding along the blustery troposphere, wishing his brothers were at his side.

Moto and Kasai would challenge each other to races until exhaustion took them. Huŏ, the youngest, would pepper him with endless questions about their heritage.

But these were troubled times for the Kuen Kingdom. There was little time for fun and enjoyment or taking mates and raising families as long as their existence was threatened.

via #52weeks52stories “Soar”

The Devil You Know, Part VIII #52weeks52stories

Week 18! 😁


Darrin Bennett drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. Marbury, Pennsylvania wasn’t a large city or even a business hub. But as one of four cities that shared the interstate exchange, evening traffic was always headache-inducing as suburbans scurried back to their ranch-style homes.
He glanced at his mother in the passenger seat. She’d been quiet since they left the coroner’s office.
“How are you holding up, mom?”
Just like she’d done in Pax Lacey’s office, Sally Bennett sat with her back straight. Her seat belt strained against her as though trying to push her back in the passenger seat.
“Tired. Confused. Pissed off. Scared.” She fingered the small handbag in her lap. “It was horrible enough being attacked in the Ramirez home. But we both lived through that and are so grateful.”
Tears pooled in her eyes.
“Then to see your dad… my husband lying dead on the floor…”

via The Devil You Know, Part VIII #52weeks52stories

The Devil You Know, Part VI #52weeks52stories

Week 16! 😁


Connie Pierce stormed across the walkway to her apartment.

Walt Stokely could be such a dumbass!

She fumed as she slammed her front door.

It wasn’t a big deal. All she asked him to do was go into Gary’s apartment and retrieve her laptop.

And he refused, spouting privacy concerns and the probability of getting sued.

Walt has also proposed the idea the laptop may not be in the apartment but with Gary, wherever he was. He needed a better reason to invade the man’s privacy.

Connie wanted to smack the man. He wasn’t worried about privacy when she caught him outside her bedroom window.

via The Devil You Know, Part VI #52weeks52stories

The Devil You Know, Part III #52weeks52stories

Week 13! 😉👍


Sally laughed as Frankie spun her around in circles, elated over the news she was expecting their first child.

The scene changed before a confused Sally… and she and her husband were sitting in Mañana’s. She remembered that’s where they had dinner to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary.

Her head throbbed as the scene changed again and she was staring at herself in the mirror of a large bath.

She knew this place too. The linen wallpaper covered in delicate coral shells and the porcelain wash basins covered in the same shells had been two of the things she most admired at the Montage Kapalua Bay resort on Maui.

Sally didn’t understand what was happening to her. Seven years had passed since she and Frankie celebrated their silver wedding anniversary in Hawaii.


Sally rushed into the bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw her husband resting in bed.

His back was to her and she snuggled up close behind him.

“Sorry, I took so long, honey. I’m back.”

Receiving no response from Frankie, Sally rose up on one elbow and peered over his shoulder.

“C’mon, Frankie. You can’t be asleep already.”

Annoyed, she grabbed his shoulder, rolling him onto his back.

The scream froze in her throat as she stared down into her husband’s lifeless eyes.

via The Devil You Know, Part III #52weeks52stories

Touch #52weeks52stories

Week 10! 😊


“Hey mom, look at my rock.”

Jill Morgan, distracted by dinner preparations, responded without looking at her eight-year-old-son.

“That’s nice, Jeffie.”

“And it’s cool, mom. It changes colors, see?”

Jill glanced over her shoulder to see the glow of the smooth orb in her son’s hands change from green to red.

Potato and peeler fell from her hands to the floor.

via Touch #52weeks52stories

Lyrical Fiction Friday | “A Strong Heart”

I’ve been away this week spending time with family and now it’s time to play catch-up. A Strong Heart will do double duty as my lyric fiction challenge AND my short story challenge which means… you will see it again soon! 😀

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Today’s lyric prompt is:

I’m trying to erase you from my mind…you’re my religion and my belief…

For the rules, click on the lyric above. 

My body is heavy, weighted to the bed by a cocktail of painkillers, monitors, metal, and casts.

And lying here, even now, I wonder where you are.

Trapped tears pool and sting my eyes, unable to flow past the eyelids swollen shut. A broken wrist and dislocated shoulder keep me from wiping the tears away.

Tears I shouldn’t be crying for you. Tears you do not deserve.

I loved you. For seven years, you were my religion and my belief. Since the day we met rollerblading on the pier, I knew I’d found my soulmate.

To me, you were the smartest man in the world. It didn’t matter to me you failed the state bar exam and I passed. I didn’t blame you for taking your frustrations out on me. I was insensitive for wanting to celebrate my own success. I should have been more considerate of your feelings.

When you failed the exam two more times, I shouldn’t have chastised you for not trying hard enough. You carried the burden of repeated failures. I deserved the slaps for thinking only of myself.

Our night out with friends to celebrate your new position was one of our best times together… until we got home.

I was confused when you threw me into the wall and accused me of throwing myself at your friend, Marty.

You punched me in my side and said I embarrassed you by dancing like a slut, even though I only danced with you.

The next morning, fed up, I packed with one hand, determined to get away from you. Your tears and promises to change broke my heart and I stayed.

Only things didn’t change. I was still your punching bag when things didn’t go your way. When you missed out on a promotion, lost a case or even had car trouble, it was my fault for not being supportive enough; for being too consumed with my own career.

And still, I stayed, making excuses for black eyes and bruises no one believed. That’s when I knew I was as broken inside as you… and I had to save myself.

But I was foolish to believe you’d allow me to walk away.

Your silence made me believe you accepted my decision.

But I was wrong. Again.

I opened my door to you for old times’ sake, trying to be a friend. I didn’t see the first punch coming… or the second, but you swung your fists until I fell to the floor. Trading fists for feet, you kicked with wild abandon, not aiming or caring where your blows landed.

No longer feeling your kicks and punches, I knew I was in shock… and probably dying. But as I slipped into the darkness, I’m sure I heard you say, “You’ll always belong to me. You can never leave.”

I awake to the rhythmic beeps and low hums of medical devices standing watch over my body. My senses are dull, and my thoughts muddied with memories I don’t recognize. I am aware of pain only after I attempt to breathe deeply. The sharp stings ripple deep inside my chest and though still disoriented, I try to keep my breathing shallow.

My injuries are extensive and will take weeks to heal. As the doctor discussed the severity of my injuries and the violence it took to inflict them, I heard something akin to pride in his voice when he said, “Young lady, I’ve seen men succumb to less than what was done to you. Those broken ribs were a problem… we were afraid they would puncture a lung. But that didn’t happen. Your heartbeat was always strong. You were determined to live. You’re a survivor.”

A survivor.

You broke my heart and battered my body. But you couldn’t break my spirit.




The DA contacted me again.

He said you took the deal.

Your sentencing is in a couple of weeks and I’ll be allowed the opportunity to make a victim’s impact statement.

But I won’t.

Because I’m not your victim. I am your end.

I’ll attend your sentencing and smile as you’re taken from the courtroom in shackles.

And then I’ll walk away… with no fear, and not haunted by the way you brutalized me.

It’s said people pass through one’s life as a blessing or a lesson. I’ll remember this lesson… but not the man.

I’m already trying to erase you from my mind.



©2018 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved





#LyricalFictionFriday | You’re So Vain

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Lyrical Fiction Friday is sponsored by Marquessa Matthews of Simply Marquessa. For more info and to join the challenge start here.

Today’s lyric prompt is:

He looks like a cool drink of water but he’s candy-coated misery…

This was not the New Year’s Eve she’d planned.

She should be in Crete, enjoying a breezy winter day while sipping dry martinis.

Those were the plans she and Rod talked about. Guess she should have known even then it was just talk.

Glynnis Crawford moved through the sea of bodies, smiling and greeting faculty members who knew it was best to stay on good terms with the school’s Registrar. Male staff members, emboldened by a few drinks, didn’t miss the chance to brush up against the buxom thirty-eight-year-old.

Reaching the bar, Glynnis ordered another martini but hadn’t taken the first sip when the noise level in the room rose.

Think of Satan and he appears… in a tailored suit.

Like some upscale version of Cheers, Rodrick Lincoln was warmly greeted by all as he crossed the foyer of the university president’s mansion.

Glynnis glanced over her shoulder to see men clustered around the American literature professor, handshaking and back-slapping. Rod beamed as women pushed in close to solicit promises of a dance… or more.

Was that Mira Kennedy from the Physics Department squeezing Rod’s arm? She had to be at least seventy.

Glynnis couldn’t blame her though. Rod’s model good looks of light, caramel skin complimented by a head of tiny, silken black curls lured women of all ages. His signature day old stubble gave him a rugged Miami Vice appeal and screamed Philip Michael Thomas. She’d noticed more than a couple men around the campus attempting to imitate the look.

Smirking, Glynnis made her way to the staircase. Rod was a beautiful package covered in the personality of a troll. He may not live under a bridge, but Glynnis knew his shortcomings.

The billiard room sat at the bottom of the stairs and Glynnis knew her small office team would be well into their third game by now.

She also knew Rod hated the game—because he always lost—and wouldn’t set foot in there to seek her out.

She’d leave Rod to the masses. He needed the attention and near-fanatical adoration.

Even at forty years of age, Rod needed the constant affirmation that he was unique and special. And worthy.

Glynnis tired of being on Team Rod after only a few weeks. It was exhausting playing to his massive ego. After deciding she’d had enough, Glynnis pulled away, becoming unavailable for lunches and dinners.

Rod upped his game though and turned on the charm. Fresh, yellow roses appeared on her desk, a gourmet catering service delivered her breakfast, and sonnets written on linen parchment filled her mailbox.

Glynnis pushed her irritation aside and gave Rod another chance, convincing herself she’d judged him too harshly.

When a server crashed the Friday before fall classes were scheduled to begin, Glynnis and her staff put their lives on hold and worked around the clock to rebuild and restore data and avoid chaos on Monday morning. So, it was an exhausted, dressed down Glynnis who arrived for Sunday Brunch with Rod. He was not pleased.

“You didn’t do your hair.”

“No, I didn’t.” Glynnis signaled the waiter for a mimosa.

“No makeup, yoga pants… since when do you show up looking like something dogs wouldn’t fight over?”

Something in Glynnis’ head snapped. Tilting her head from side to side, she stretched out the muscles in her neck. The waiter arrived with her cocktail and she took a long drink before responding.

“I’m sure you’re aware, Rodrick, of the mainframe crash just after lunch Friday. I’ve had six pots of coffee and no sleep. I know how you hate to be kept waiting, and in the interest of time, a shower was all I had time for.”

“That’s a lightweight excuse, Glynnis.”

Her hand tightened around the glass. She took a deep breath before responding, emphasizing each word. “Did you miss the part about no sleep?”

Rod waved her off. “Oh, please. Any number of women would lose sleep to share a meal with me.”

The buzzing began at the base of her neck.

Heat suffused her body as her mind warred with itself. Fed-up Glynnis wanted to put the self-centered hack in his place. But cool, composed Glynnis refused to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re right, Rod.” Turning up her drink, she emptied the glass and returned it to the table with a thud. “I’m not worthy of a man like you.”

He smirked, and all Glynnis wanted to do was slap the taste out of his mouth. Instead, she stood.

“I’ll do the honorable thing and step aside to make room for the throngs of women craving your time.” She looked at the area around the table. “I believe you have room to form a line on the right.”

The confidant Registrar took two steps away from her brunch partner before turning around.

“Oh, and Rod? Your poetry sucks.”

She sauntered from the restaurant elated, no longer weighed down by the grueling tasks of the past forty-eight hours… or the middle-aged narcissist who’d never been worth her time.

Rod made several attempts to get Glynnis back during the semester, all to no avail. When the month between Halloween and Thanksgivings had no calls, texts… or overpriced gifts from Rodrick Lincoln, Glynnis believed—hoped—he was anywhere else annoying someone else.


Glynnis reached for the door handle, about to enter the billiard room, when she heard her name called out.

Damn! What did he do? Run across the room and down the steps? Might as well get this over with. She turned as Rod descended the last few stairs.

He approached her looking like sex on legs. Glynnis thought it was a shame that a man who looked better than men ten years his junior was such an asshole.

His eyes roamed her body, taking in the knee-length, silver cocktail dress with its low-cut bodice. Her thick, dark brown hair was pulled to one side and rested on her right shoulder, held in place by a comb which matched her earrings.

“You look amazing, baby. But then, you always do.”

Her smile was pure saccharine as she let his term of endearment slide. “Funny. I remember a time when you thought I looked like something dogs wouldn’t fight over.”

“Glynnis, you know I didn’t mean that. If you’d taken my calls… or answered my texts… or your front door, I could have explained I was having a bad weekend and took it out on you.”

“It’s all water under the bridge, Rod.” She caught herself before she could laugh out loud at her own joke. “Happy New Year.”

Glynnis turned to enter the room and join her staff, but Rod caught her arm.

“Please, wait.”

She turned back, her eyes focused on his hand gripping her arm. He removed his hand and took a step back.

“We are a couple of hours from a new year… new beginnings. A chance to start over. I was hoping you’d give me another chance… that we could start over.”

Glynnis looked up into his deep brown eyes. She saw nothing… and felt nothing. He looked like a cool drink of water, but she knew he was just candy-coated misery.

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, Rod. I’m not the woman for you.” Glynnis reached out and squeezed his hand. “But I do hope you find her.”

She left him standing in the hallway, his eyes clouding with malice and contempt, as she joined her friends, ready for a new year… without him.