Rampaging Beast

Once again, it’s time for an Odds and Ends prompt! I slightly modified the prompt I was given. I’m dealing with end of semester whining, attempts to gaslight me about assignments I created, and general angst that college students bring no matter what. That’s probably what gave me this little scenario.

Here’s the prompt from Misha Burnett: The supernatural creature rampaged through the crowded store, killing everyone but you. Why were you spared?

And here’s my response:

Rampaging Beasts

The noise was deafening. Between the shattering glass, crashing shelves, and screaming customers and staff, the store was chaos.

The rampaging werebear wreaked unimaginable havoc. It was roaring incoherently and throwing itself around the store like a toddler having a massive temper-tantrum. Nobody seemed capable of or willing to stop him.

From my hiding spot towards the back of the store I kept an eye on the beast and tried to come up with an idea. Abruptly, the werebear made a gesture towards the front door as if it were throwing a ball. All the remaining customers were flung out the door. Some went through what remained of the front window.

I knew that move! Suddenly confident, I stood up from behind the back counter. The werebear turned and started toward me.

“Goddammit, Brian! I told you not to experiment in the mall!” I stood my ground, arms out as if to hug it. My warding rod hung from its strap on my left wrist.

The giant creature came to a sudden halt. It stood panting and drooling about ten feet away. Slowly, its form appeared to flow and a disheveled young man about 19-years old stood before me, still panting and drooling.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry, d-d-Dr. Jones. I didn’t think…”

“Clearly you didn’t think! I warned you about this several times in class. Congratulations, you have just failed this exam. And, don’t even get me started on the damage and injuries. You’d better hope there were no deaths! If you are going to be successful in this class, you need to pay attention when I’m lecturing!”

Brian hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Good grief. Start cleaning this mess up.”


I hope you found it slightly funny. The whole thing just kind of popped into my head after dealing with repeat emails from a couple of students.

Image by Waltteri Paulaharju from Pixabay

Miracle garden

It’s Week 16 of Odd Prompts. I missed out on last week’s prompt due to a number of work-related stresses compounded by the quarantine/lock-down/house arrest we’re all dealing with. I’m hopeful that the reopening of the country which started yesterday will continue apace. I finally got back to writing yesterday evening and realized, I think for the first time, how truly important it is for me. Yes, it’s a form of escapism, but it also let’s me create problems and then create solutions to those problems. I dove back in to the editing I need to do on Book 1 and that should be done this weekend. Then I’m going to dive in to figuring out Kindle and working on Book 2. I’m also working on putting the series of cursed dolls into some sort of coherent story line. I think that’s going to be a new series.

I did write a small bit for the Week 15 prompt which I posted directly in the comments section over at More Odds than Ends and you can head over there to read that if you feel so inclined (I recommend going over to read the prompts from everybody over there simply because they’re all so good).

For this week’s prompt, I got this picture and this statement from Kat Ross:

“He’s been dead for 30 years, yet his flowers still bloom.”

Here’s my response:


“Wow, check it out!” Greg stopped on the side of the path.

“Whoa! Those are gorgeous. How did they get there?” Andrea smiled at the large swath of deep red tulips that seemed to flow alongside the path.

“There’s a sign over here,” Greg pointed. The couple moved closer to read the inscription.

These tulips were a gift to the park from Samuel Beckwith (1900-1990). He planted them here every fall until his death in 1990. The following fall, park gardeners neglected to replant the bulbs, yet that spring, this river of tulips bloomed. Since then, the bulbs have never been replaced and the tulips have bloomed every year. This patch of ground was dubbed “Sam’s Miraculous Garden” by park gardeners. We hope you enjoy it as much as we do.

Greg and Andrea stared at each other. “Tulips aren’t perennials!” Andrea breathed.

“I know,” Greg answered. “Damn. Thirty years after his death and they still come back. Samuel Beckwith’s Miracle Garden for sure!”

The tulips swayed in unison back and forth and then were still again.


Short, but I like it. It’s sparked an idea for a short story and I’m allowing myself to take the weekend off from teaching/grading stuff so I think I’m going to chase down this idea.

Enjoy your weekend, get outside, and ignore the busybody Karens telling you how to behave! Don’t be afraid.

Image by monicore from Pixabay


The first of two volumes of an anthology titled Fantastic Schools will be coming out this spring. The second volume will follow not long after. The announcement is…I have a story in one of these volumes! Not sure which one yet, because the editors (L. Jagi Lamplighter and Christopher G. Nuttall) got so many amazing stories they decided to publish two volumes. I am beyond grateful that they accepted my story “Going Home.”

Here’s the preliminary blurb:

Longing for more stories of life at magic school? Look no further! Here you will find stories of magic boarding school, but also stories of magic military school, stories of magical outcasts, of magical secondary schools, of magical preschools, etc.

Some stories take place at pre-existing schools of magic, such as Whitehall, Roanoke Academy, Black Magic Academy, Hundred Halls, and more. Others take place at new exciting locations that may just become your favorite magical school.

Join us for tales of enchantment and wonder!

Here’s a bit from my story just to peak your interest:


“Mo! Mo!” Sara was running across the playground toward me.

“What?” I quit trying to see if I could spot anything on the shore.

“Where are we? Did you do this?” she asked when she stopped next to me.

“Me? Why do you think I did this? I don’t run around moving whole buildings!”

“Yeah, you do. Remember that time last summer when you moved your dad’s garden shed across your back yard? He was soooo mad!” Sara laughed.

“Okay, yeah. But I never moved it elsewhere. And, no, I have no idea where we are. But I think Benny Dunleavy did it. He’s an idiot and thinks he knows everything.” I said we were elsewhere, that area of unknown that we all knew was in between our world and the world where magic didn’t exist. But I really hoped we had only shifted somewhere else in our own world. I had never heard of anybody bringing anything or anybody back from elsewhere or from the non-magical world.

Sara looked worried. “Do you think we’re really elsewhere?”


I’ll keep y’all posted!

Image by Darwin Laganzon from Pixabay