I saw my first crocus pop up this past weekend. I hope you enjoy G.M.’s creative foray into a spring of the future.

~Tales of Fantasy and Adventure

pixabay image by Natan Vance

Written with Spring in mind for D. Wallace Peach-Myths of the Mirror, March Speculative Fiction Prompt.

Final decomp term in 30,” vacuous voice of the program.


At over seven kilometres beneath the surface of the Laurentian Ocean an oyster gave up its pearl. It had always been a legend and of course there were the believers, the seekers and the nay-sayers. For thousands of years, but never proof. In the end it was a simple logarithm, an amplification.

Return all secure one, descent in 30.”


We’re about to enter the abyss,” tour guide interrupting the rote transcript.

The earthquake itself was memorable: the rift in the ocean floor revealed so much more. Not only the Lost City, but there was life. A form of life. Human was the ancient term. Once a year they burst from the seabed…

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Sign #writephoto

Image: Sue Vincent

Belladonna Shadowbend climbed the creaky stairs of her dead aunt’s ancient Victorian home. Gossamer cobwebs draped the corners like grayed wedding veils. The eyeballs in the portraits tracked her progress, and a transparent child hissed from the next landing. Belladonna rolled her eyes and blew out a sigh. Honestly, so cliched.

Witchcraft had become so trendy among modern teenagers that Belladonna considered it passé. Gone were the glorious days when witches drowned tied to chairs or sizzled at the stake.

Was she feeling sorry for herself? Probably. Her dreams of building an online clearinghouse for magical accessories had shattered. She’d believed people wanted quality over crap and would pay for it, but Amazon was a start-up’s nightmare. Cheap magic wands, love potions, and cursed amulets were as popular as iphones. Everyone owned at least one, and the local bodegas sold them beside the tabloids and gum.

Her options were limited. No one was making any money in fortune telling, casting hexes, or selling souls. The white witches complained about global warming and saving the bees, but few listened to them. They needed a little help from the devil if they wanted someone to pay serious attention. She chuckled at the thought. An unexpected visit to hell would do wonders in Washington.

No, selling the old place with it’s slamming doors and undulating curtains would buy her some time while she figured out her next venture.

Another staircase led to the attic, a rat’s nest of iron-strapped trunks, twig brooms, and garment bags stuffed with black capes. Shelves along one wall held dozens of peaked hats. She picked one up, brushed off the brim, and coughed in the cloud of dust. The stuff appeared authentic, but what the heck? How many hats did one old witch need? She half expected a stash of pointy shoes and blurted a laugh when she flipped the lid on a trunk and found them. Cleaning the place out would take a year. Generations of witches in her family and her legacy amounted to a house full of vintage… oh… oh my…

Belladonna smiled. All she needed was a sign.


Written for Sue Vincent’s magical #writephoto prompt.


The Last Eclipse ~ #poeticprose #SpeculativeWriting

Poetic prose from Dorinda and questions from a wanderer. Enjoy!

Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos

Diana, of Myths of the Mirror has a new feature on her blog called, “Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt.”  Please visit the link above to find out more about the challenge, then join in the great fun!

I’m drawn to the darkness hanging in the sky, did my moon eclipse the sun? And what of this wanderer, tis I, but am I to be the chosen one? To watch, as light escapes from the clutches, of an ebony orb, up high; drawing me closer, as my soul, it touches, and still I can’t help wonder why.

I feel the vibrations flowing to Earth, could it be I am meant to depart? Will this beacon of light ever show me my worth, or will it swallow up my heart? The nearer I get to this magical sphere, whose presence has not moved an inch; I can only imagine why it holds…

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March Speculative Fiction Prompt

I hope Willow’s apocalyptic tale never comes true! But I do hope you enjoy her story. 🙂



First they came and it was like all hell had been let loose. They had brought the virus. It had spread like wildfire burning up the population. Those that were not infected were either slaughtered, a few survived.

Those that survived left the cities and towns keeping together for there was, then, safety in numbers.

The Vampires finally exhausted the all life on the planet. They began to die, no source of blood to sustain them they became extinct.

The tusnami came and seemed to cleanse the planet. It might of helped had there been a population left.

The night of the eclipse a lone figure ran through the city. Eyes full of fear legs driven by determination alone. Feet sinking in the wet sand.

It, was neither male nor female, human nor vampire. It was a hybrid, age could be no more than ten. Why can we be…

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He Walks Alone (a story prompted story)

A haunting tale from Louise. Enjoy! And have a wonderful weekend!

Dare boldly

There is a moon filled sun and a man.

There is a day that became a forever night and a man alone.

There is a city. Silent in the darkness of the moon darkened sun.

There is a man who walks alone. Always.

Once there was life.

It is gone. Void. Expired.

The moon came and stole the light. And all life was forgotten.

Except for the man. He walks alone. By himself. Always.

Not frightened. Not scared. Just alone. Like a memory that cannot die, he is trapped in the darkness.

No one asks him what he is doing in the darkened day of the city. There is no one there to ask.

He is not curious this man walking alone.

He has no thoughts to make his mind wonder.

Once, there had been curiosity. Wonder. A city filled with people building, creating, doing.

And then, the moon came…

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She would give them all the words, feelings, and blood that they needed

A story that just might leave you wanting more. Enjoy!


The moon was her strength and it was driving her forward.  The city streets were quite as they should be. There was a mandatory curfew in place.   Even most of the window blinds were drawn. No one really wanted to be touched by the light of the moon. But she reveled in it as it was the closest heavenly body to earth. Mostly all was quiet. However, she could hear the hamsters spinning aggressively  in their wheels. She wanted to ease their disquieted beings but she had to stay focused. She was there on a mission as dictated by Thoth. Magic was dwindling and the world would cry without knowing why. The days had been dark and fear was the driving force keeping everything static. Even the television sets just hummed white noise. Radio was all they had left. But she would bring light once she set it all…

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Smorgasbord Short Stories – Diana Wallace Peach – March’s Speculative Fiction – A Moment of Alignment by Sally Cronin

A sad, heartwarming, and poignant story from Sally Cronin. I hope you enjoy and Happy Friday. ❤

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

There are a number of very good reasons to participate in writing challenges. It hones your skills, it showcases your writing, and it forges connections with other writers here in blogland.

One of the challenges that I am enjoying is from Diana Wallace Peach and here is The March speculative fiction prompt

A moment of alignment

The child walked the darkened streets unafraid of the shadows. With bare feet, she disregarded the grit and gravel underfoot, and skimmed across the surface of the odd puddle or two in her path. Her shoulders were back, and her head held high, with arms swinging confidently by her side. A faint smile touched her lips as the ring around the moon glowed brighter.

It was almost time for the perfect alignment of sun and the moon and for a brief moment there would be a window of opportunity. She only had minutes to…

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