Friday Freeday: 400!

I can't believe this is my 400th post!

Thank you to my 100 readers, also. You make me want to keep writing SOMETHING. lol

That said, I think I know where I'm going next in blogging, and I'm kind of excited about it.

I'd mentioned flash fiction posts, and while I was kind of leery about it, I wondered how I could tie them into my WIP The Crystal Bearer. A tidbit about my story, my main character loves to read. So, why not do flash fictions based on tales that would be written in the world my story? I'm already writing a story based on one of the series she's reading, so why not take it a step further, you know? I think it would help keep my mind fresh.

They'll most likely be on Tuesdays, so I can call it Tuesday Tales. I'm obsessed with alliteration, I know. That said, I'd also like to sometimes do a Final Fantasy Friday (and bring back Wednesday Words). That's why I call myself the Write Mage, and the games are a big influence in my life as well as in The Crystal Bearer, after all. While I'm more knowledgeable about the mid-to-later games in the franchise, they are something I'd love to share with you all, too.

So, I believe that is where I'll be headed in November.  Heads up: these 400 posts may be under a new blog link and title then, so I can shift the focus.

Thank you again for being here to read the craziness that comes out of my head. :)

Spooktoberfest 2014 Genesis's "Home By The Sea"

Hello! Happy Saturday!

I decided to do the Cover Girls' Spooktoberfest this year! We have to create a 300-word flash fiction and use the five words below. If I did it right, you will also see the LinkyTool for the other participants, and for you to join if you want! There is still time! The winner will be revealed on Halloween (insert creepy ghost noise).
chill
cocoon
commotion
curse
virus

A lone tree hung over the beach house, one big cocoon of spider webs instead of leaves. I hesitated, but winter was unofficially here, and I could bear the chill no longer.

The front door had no knob and swung open when I knocked. I stepped inside and called out. No one answered. The rising sun ate away at the darkness like a heavenly virus, and I only realized I was nervous once my muscles relaxed. The house was coated and stale with dust. I walked further inside, entered a parlor with mildewed furniture: a sofa, two chairs, a coffee table. On one wall, a bar with six stools, a piano on the other. I imagined high society drinking here and chatting about the stocks, and at the thought, such a commotion arose that I whipped around.

Tens of people stood behind me and in the corridor, talking and drinking. The sun’s rays revealed decayed flesh and tattered garments I only saw when I wasn’t directly looking at them. That alone should have paralyzed me, but their shadows on the wall, clawing and crying for a way out while their oblivious bodies laughed and carried on did the trick best. They turned to look at me with pale, dead eyes, and I knew there was a curse on this place.

“Welcome to the home by the sea.”

I turned again. Three ladies on the sofa, men in the chairs and on the stools looked back at me. A woman at the piano played a tune I’d never heard but would hear again. It was the bartender who had spoken to me. In the mirror, his shadow screamed at me to run away.

They all said to me in one dreadful moan, “Sit down. Listen to our stories.”