Scrivener’s Forge 10 – Point of View

Welcome to my story for this month’s Scrivener’s writing exercise. Thank you to Neil MacDonald for continuing to host these exercises. This month’s really set my imagination free. Please click Here to get all the information on the monthly writing tasks.

Briefly and in Neil’s words here was the task –


Rewrite a well-known fairy tale or legend from the viewpoint of the bad guy. Remember, bad guys rarely believe they’re bad guys and have their own reasons for behaving as they do. Make your point-of-view character believable.

Now for my story –

The Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood

Approaching the pack meant death. Aisha hunched down deep into the thickets. Her fall from alpha female to banished one had happened in the blink of an eye. Her injured leg had made her an ineffective hunter, a burden on the pack, an easy mark. Her fate was sealed when alpha male Mateji turned his back as Sekai approached hackles raised teeth bared. Sekai was younger and quick to attack. Her first lunge, ripped fur from her throat. Rather than fight the stronger she-wolf, risking injury to a strong provider for the pack and her own death, Aisha had dropped her head, lowered her tail and limped away. For weeks she had listened to her packs nightly calls organizing their hunt. Instinct drove her to follow them as they traveled across miles. The distance between the swift moving pack and Aisha increased until their calls where faint and distant.

She gave up her pursuit and slunk into an abandoned burrow where at one time she had given birth to four cubs. It had been days since she had stumbled upon a wounded rabbit. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. Her leg no longer sent waves of pain through her body but wouldn’t support her weight, making it impossible to spring on any prey. Weak and trembling, the once proud wolf huddled in the rocky shelter. Days and nights lost to the darkness. A soft melodic noise floated through the air. Fear coursed through her veins when she recognized it – a human. Aisha lay still knowing that humans had little sense of smell. She waited for the human’s sound to flow into the distance. Instead it became louder increasing her fear. Soon it was accompanied by the rustling of leaves and thumps of footsteps. The footsteps achingly close.

Curiosity and hunger forced her to investigate. Slowly she edged her head into the forest punctured with shafts of daylight. Alarms were ringing in the recesses of her mind. Daylight, not a time to hunt. Ignoring the warning, the nervous wolf edged out further. A clattering of branches to her left implored her to look. Her body tensed ready to fight, her injury making fleeing impossible. Her sharp mind quickly absorbed the details of her foe. A she-cub was bent over an array of brightly colored flowers. The cub clutched a handful of flowers in one paw, a large brown object in the other. It was mewing as it plucked more flowers.

“Run!” Aisha’s mind screamed.

“She’s alone and a mere cub.” Her stomach counseled.

Heartbeats passed. Aisha torn with indecision followed the cub as it scampered through the forest. Stealthily she closed the distance. The growl of her hunger overtaking the caution of her mind. The light shifted abruptly. The forest and its protective cover was thinning.

“Now, pounce now,” her stomach urged.

Aisha tensed her muscles in preparation to spring. Her injured leg collapsed. She tumbled face first into the dirt. By the time she regained her feet all she could she was a flash of red as the cub left the forest and sprinted across a meadow. Aisha crept to the edge of the meadow and watched her prey. Her stomach roared at the loss. Her mind was still fixed on the she-cub as it reached a den. The squeals from the old one and the jumping with joy from the cub reminded Aisha of the games she had once played with her cubs. Her babies were now miles and miles away. Her heartbreak at the loss of her pups and her pack coursed through her making it hard to breath.

A series of short barks from the humans drew her from her dark thoughts. Aisha, shook her head and turned away from them. She would not steel this cub from its elder.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed my version of this classic story. Please click HERE to read other responses to Scrivener’s Forge – POV.




FF Challenge Oct 13th – It Was My Choice

Can you believe it? Really, can you believe that it is almost mid-Oct.? My, my time slips by.

Before we get to my story I want to take care of some important business. First a big thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for continuing to host this challenge. Please click her name to review all the rules of the game. Next thank you to Douglas M MacIlroy for the thought provoking photo which is to be used for Friday Fictioneer stories only.

Now for my 100 words –

FF Oct 13
PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy

It Was My Choice

Teeth gnashed, claws tore the air. The crashing sounds alerted me. I opened the door. A ginger blur brushed by.

Cursing, I reached to straighten the overturned boxes and recoiled my injured hand. Squatting, I sought my foe. The quaking form plunged my heart to my feet. Cooing softly, I scooped up the trembling bird. Its heart quivered against my hand. I was a god. Life or death, it was my choice. I tighten my grip as the little bird struggled.

From the crook of the tree where I had placed it, the little guy thanked me with a shriek.

Thanks for reading. Please click HERE to read other creative stories. Oh, one more thing. Please take a moment to leave a comment and help me improve my writing.




FF Challenge Sept 25th – A Good Fit

Time for another story for the Friday Fictioneers Challenge to write a story 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks once again to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for continuing this challenge. Please visit her site, by clicking her name, for all the details.

This week’s photo has been generously provided by Sarah Potter. All photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission.

FF Sept 22 old-shoes-cobwebs
PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

Now for my 100 word story – A Good Fit

Long before it was cool, I was a nerd.

I chose wisely, my partner nursed my creations into a net worth that continued to explode exponentially. I didn’t care. My wife, Betty, did. Bigger, more expensive was her mantra. I was dragged from store to store, forced to don $1,500 jeans, $900 sneakers and inexplicably $300 T-shirts. I hated them. But a happy wife …

Betty and half my money is gone. When she left, I crawled through the sprawling attic seeking a relic from happier times. I shook off the dust, brushed away cobwebs.

They fit me just fine.

I appreciate you taking the time to read my story. Click HERE to see other stories based on this weeks prompt. Why not take a chance and join this merry band of writers.



FF Sept 15th – Hearts

Yep, it’s here again, Friday Fictioneers 100 word stories. Please visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields to get all the information on how to join our group.

This weeks photo prompt was kindly supplied by Kelvin M. Knight. Please remember he retains all rights to his photo.

Now here’s my 102 (oops) word story – Hearts

FF - Sept 15th Bread
PHOTO PROMPT © Kelvin M. Knight

Sherry stared as the bread tumbled to the floor. The heart-shape reminder of love reopening the wound that was once her heart.

There had been a time when love had meant flowers, jewelry boxes, breakfasts with heart-shaped pancakes. Then came late nights at the office, the smell of whiskey on his breath, weekends spent alone. Her love slowly dripped from her battered heart.

The receipts for flowers and jewelry she never received morphed her hurt into an anger that scorched her soul.

She ground the bread into the floor with her heel picturing her ex’s heart. Hers beat a little easier.

Thanks for reading. I really struggled with the ending for this one. Let me know how I could have improved it.

Don’t forget the click HERE to read stories based on this week’s photo.




FF Challenge Sept 8th – A Heavy Weight

Hello and welcome to my post for this week’s Friday Fictioneers Challenge. Please visit our host Rochelle Wisoff’s site for all the rules. In brief the challenge is to write a story 100 words or less based on the photo prompt.

This weeks photo is courtesy of Danny Bowman, who retains all rights to his photo.

FF- Sept 8
PHOTO PROMPT © Danny Bowman

Without further ado here’s my story  A Heavy Weight –

“We’re going to die.” Calvin stared at the aging Jeep’s rising temperature gauge.

“Quit being so dramatic.” Charmaine shook her head. “Have faith! Google says we’re going the right way.”

“In a quarter of a mile turn left,” the tinny voice interrupted.

“Turn left! What left?” Calvin thumped the steering wheel and scowled at his half empty bottle. It contained the last of their water.

“I don’t know!” Charmaine stabbed at her phone.

“You have arrived,” the voice declared in triumph.

Calvin awoke with a jerk, his bed sheets a tangled mess.

“Damn this Google job is stressing me out.”

Word Count – 100

Some background, I have heard some news stories over the pass several years about Google maps leading people off onto back roads, sometimes resulting in death. I’ve often wondered if the product managers at Google feel the weight of these horrible consequences.

Thanks for reading. Please take a few minutes to leave me a comment. Also click HERE to read a vast array of stories based on this week’s photo.

Have a great day.


Scrivener’s Forge 9 – Reveals

Welcome to my response for the Scrivener’s Forge 9 Reveals. These challenges are brought to us by Neil MacDonald, clicking his name will get you more information.Here is this month’s exercise, in his words –

A reveal is a twist in the tail. It can be like the punchline of a joke, suddenly taking the story onto a completely different terrain (the main character wasn’t a person after all, they were a worker bee, for example). Or it may suddenly show the machinery that was driving the story. Or it may make metaphorical and magical connections between events (this is often done by “mirroring” between an event and an earlier one).


Write a short story with a reveal. You may want to work backwards from the ending, as in exercise 8

And now my short story –

I first met him on the street. Although it was a brief encounter, I remember it well. I was rushing down main street, loaded down with dry cleaning and shopping bags, mentally striking things off my to do list when I bumped into him. Our eyes met. His were so full of despair they reached deep into me and stroked my heart with an icy finger. Before I could gather my wits, he continued weaving his way through the crowds and out of sight but not out of my mind.

From then on whenever I was downtown shopping, I knew that somewhere on my route I would see him. A quick glimpse as I entered the dry cleaners, or a long look as he strolled away down the street. I started to pay more attention to him, gathering more details. His hair was long and matted, he looked like he could use a bath. He was heartrendingly young. This made me wondered where his family was and why he was always alone. He was always set on a path that lead him god knows where. With each encounter, he became more deeply wedged into my thoughts. Who was he? Was he homeless? One day I followed him into the park. I sat on a bench close to where he sat. Trying to be discrete, I had a book opened on my lap. I watched and waited curious as to what would happen next. Nothing did. He sat, studiously not looking at me, before getting up and leaving.

I don’t know what drew me to him but I became a stalker. I never approached him. I simply followed him into the park. I would sit close by, never making eye contact, never talking to him. If my presence bothered him it never showed. These silent encounters led to me leaving food for him on the bench. Even the most casual observer would have noted that my small gifts, a sandwich, a burger left behind on the park bench, were intentional.

When I saw him casually walk by my house one day, it frightened me that he had followed me without my noticing. He now knew where I lived, that took out casual encounters in the park to a dangerous new level. With a shaking hand, I let the curtain fall back into place. Behind the security of my locked doors and windows, I watched him walk by, stopping to give the window where I stood a deep longing look. His eyes so full of misery I found it hard to ignore him. Surely, he meant me no harm. Day after day, I watched the lone figure walk by my house. My guilt at living a life of prosperity and leaving him hungry and hopeless grew until I thought I would choke on it. The next day, I stood by the window and waited for him to appear. I saw him turn the corner onto my street. He jogged by every house until he came to mine. At the edge of my drive he stopped, turned and looked directly at me through the window. He bobbed his head as if in greeting. A thousand admonishments from my friends and family ran through my mind in an instant. I ignored them all and threw open my door. I spoke to him for the first time.

“It’s okay,” I whispered to the eyes that held mine. I took a few cautious steps forward. He stood still, only his breathing indicated he had not turned to stone. I reached out and stroked his head.

“Want to come in and get some food?”

That was met with tail wagging so vigorous I thought his butt was going to fall off. The scraggy mutt followed me into his new home with no hesitation, on his part or mine. I think I’ll call him Bob.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the story and my big reveal worked. Please click HERE to read other responses to this exercise.



FF Challenge Aug 18th – When Terror Strikes

Welcome to my submission to this week’s Friday Fictioneers Challenge to write a story 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Interested in finding out more please visit our noble host’s site by clicking Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

The multi-talented Rochelle has also provided this weeks photo prompt.

Now here’s my 100 word story – When Terror Strikes

FF Aug 19 closet-shower-2
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

I pushed through the unlocked door shouting for my tween daughters, receiving only silence.

“Kerry, Christine!”

I ran in and out of the vacant kitchen. My husband followed, fear flickering across his face.

We raced upstairs, our cries echoing across empty rooms. In the master bedroom light crept from under the bathroom door. Reaching, as if forced to pet a snake, I flung it open revealing the crouched forms of my girls.

“We heard a noise,” Christine squeaked.

With trembling arms, I hugged them and scolded my husband with my eyes. No more leaving them alone. We were not ready.

Thanks for reading. Please click HERE to read stories by other writers.

Have a great week!