Kraken – Multi prompt micro fiction

sea storm pexels
photo credit, pexels

The tempestuous sea roiled with heavy waves. The ship, her grace and bearings lost, surrendered to the wild pitch and yaw. Jack stood braced against the mast for stability. He had sent Helen below for safety before the storm had intensified.

As he tried desperately to batten down the remaining open hatches, he glimpsed something through the pouring rain. Jack paused and watched, the rolling waves were interrupted by a suspiciously bland circle. As he watched in horror, a huge maelstrom formed, lined with triangular protrusions. What the?!? Were those TEETH???

The Kraken opened it’s huge maw and swallowed the little boat whole. A suitable way to retaliate for the intrusion into it’s sacred waters.

Based on the following prompts:
RDP grace
FOWC stability
WOTD tempestuous
DAP retaliate

Till next time ~Peace ~JPP

A Dangerous Enterprise


For the first part of the story see: The Emperor and the Warrior

Kya walked with the Emperor into the back room, he waved his guards aside and they stood outside the door. Kya sized him up, taking the measure of the man, not the emperor. He was tall, trim but muscular with the athletic yet supple build of someone proficient in the martial arts. Kya decided that yes, he would be a worthy opponent on a physical level.

“What service do you require of me?” Kya asked, leaving the end of the question open for him to provide a name if he desired but she would NOT call him my some ridiculous title. Continue reading “A Dangerous Enterprise”

Multi-prompt Monday — Coddiwomple

violin pexels

A Dithering Coddiwomple

Solanj stood staring up at the statue of the gargoyle. How like life, this stone monster. Hideous and beautiful at the same time. Taking precious time and energy to sculpt. She felt that curious detachment that had been the focus of her existence since the day. The day when her world changed, the day when… enough of this! Solanj shook her head and face forward strode straight into the cathedral.

In the corner a young girl played a violin. So sweet and pure was her song that Solanj was certain it could make the angels weep in envy. She headed to the front of the chapel where an elderly priest was seated, watching the violinist and gently smiling. Continue reading “Multi-prompt Monday — Coddiwomple”


FFfAW 179th

Solanj paid no heed to the “no entry” signs as she approached in her slinky black gown. She presented her piccolo case, along with a long shapely thigh showing through the gown’s walking slit, and the smiling guard passed her through. The orchestra was already preparing for tonight’s symphony. Solanj stood for a moment sizing up the hall, picking the spot where the sounds would resonate the least.

On the lighting platform, Solanj opened her piccolo case. She withdrew a slender silver tube which she fitted with a mouthpiece and loaded the tiny darts concealed in her bracelet. She was ready.

The orchestra began their prelude. Solanj started her breathing ritual before lifting the blowgun to her lips. Just for a moment she could remember other symphonies, better times. She shook her head and focused on her breathing, opening her eyes. “Time for you to die Mr. Ambassador.”

The dart sailed, the ambassador slumped forward.

Till next time ~Peace ~JPP

For the following prompts:
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Thanks to Yarnspinnerr for the photo


The Emperor and the Warrior


They dragged her into the throne room. Kyarina’s first conscious thought was that her helmet was missing. It was just a basic protective device but carried magic and personal enchantments. Without it her flamming hair fell across her shoulders unbound and she felt exposed. The guards released her and she struggled briefly to rise.

Kyarina stood tall and erect, a warrior in every sense of the word. Her elaborate armor dented, carrying huge rents from blows of sword, gauntlet, and arrow. With her helmet gone, the scar was once again visible. Continue reading “The Emperor and the Warrior”

Grey World

DSC00475 (2)

This story should never be told.

I woke with a start and began working the cramp out of my leg from sitting too long in the back of the “meat wagon.” That’s what they called the airplane. They were taking us to “paradise” to a land with sun and beaches, or so they claimed. Continue reading “Grey World”

Old Blue Eyes

apple orchard pixabay

It was a gorgeous day. The air clean and crisp from the night’s rainfall. Marianne was making a belated welcome breakfast for her nieces who were visiting the farm. Apple pancakes would be just the ticket. Marianne watched the twins descending the spiral staircase, wondering at their differences. For all that they were identical twins, they didn’t look anything alike. They were both delicately built, ginger hair and emerald eyes. That’s where the similarity ended. Feena was fastidious, hair brushed and neatly pulled back in an elaborate french braid, washed and dressed and ready for her day. Teena was … well, not exactly lazy but she seemed completely unaware of her personal appearance. Still in PJs, unwashed, with hair sticking every which way and eyes still swollen with sleepiness. Continue reading “Old Blue Eyes”


Angels      Daily Prompt:  Broken


Once upon a time, in the land of hush-a-bye, long about the wondrous days of yore, lived a young girl who loved her family. They had been wealthy once, lived in a big house, with all the trappings that wealth brings with it. Each year on December 1 they would break out the huge box of Christmas decorations and set them about the house, singing Christmas songs in the festive spirit of the season. Each year, her mother brought out the golden angels. Gold-leaf ceramic figurines that were her mother’s most prized possession. They were placed in the highest place of honor in their home, the center of the huge dinning table were they were seen and admired by all.

And it came to pass that the family fell upon hard times. They sold the home they all loved and moved into a small rental many miles away. Following what jobs her father could find, they struggled to keep food on the table and spirits up. This December, Father brought home a small and somewhat straggly tree, Christmas trees being scarce in the desert. When they had decorated the tree and played the Christmas albums, it came time to bring out the angels. Mother opened the box and carefully began to unwrap the tissue paper. The girl watched her mothers face fall as tears dropped to the wrappings. There in the box where they had been packed with such painstaking care, lay the angels, broken. The girl saw hope and dreams fade from her mother’s eyes. Mother ran weeping from the room.

Late that night, all unseen, the girl crept from her bedroom and spirited away the broken angels. There night after night with glue and patience she pieced together the ruined jigsaw of the shattered angels. Finally after many nights, she applied remnants of gold leaf that had been carefully saved from long ago craft projects, sealing the entire figurines with thinned glue. Having no other gift for her parents, she wrapped the angels with infinite care in a scrap of pretty fabric she had saved from an outgrown dress. She placed the package under the Christmas tree.

Christmas morning was happy, as Christmas mornings always are; yet somehow subdued. After the children had opened their gifts, the girl ran to the tree and pulling her carefully wrapped parcel from the back of the tree, she held it out to her mother.

“What’s this?” Mother asked.

The girl smiled in reply.

With trembling fingers, Mother carefully unwrapped the gift. Her eyes went wide and she turned to her daughter with a single word, “How?”

Eyes downcast, the girl spoke softly, “I know they’re not as good as before, but I wanted you to have them, somehow.”

Mother carefully set the renewed angels down and dropped to her knees, embracing her daughter. “Oh my precious child, thank you. You give me hope.”

“But Mother they’re still broken,” the girl mused.

“My darling, broken things are beautiful too. They are not the same, they are better. The love you put into them shows in every nook and cranny. They are perfect and more.”

“My sweet child I know it’s true
broken things have dents and dings
but they have beauty too.” ~oep


hourglass unsplash by Aron Visuals
Photo by  Aron Visuals on unsplash

My take on the Daily Prompt:  Laughter


I spent five years in a bottle
when cancer took my Daddy from me
but I’ve been sober
twenty-three years now
cause there’s some things stronger
than whiskey.

Like the sight of him
holding my baby boy
the way he laughed with utter joy
the first day I got up
on those water skis

And the way that he looked
with that smile in his eyes
the way he held me
every time I cried.
The way he was laughing
til the day he died.

You see the last words
that my Daddy said to me,
“There’s one thing
stronger than death
and that’s a memory.”