Next Time

Photo credit@ Geogia Koch

Next Time

A copper tang mingled with the dockyard flotsam.
“Lotta blood. She been dead long?”
“An hour or two, hard to say for sure.”
“Not really, just a little damp.”
The officer turned to face his partner; her uniform, wet and tattered, “Same MO, same perp?”
“You look rode hard. How long you been chasing this asshole?”
“About two hours too long,” she said, her voice strangely shallow.
“Next time call for backup. You always gotta be a damn hero.”
“Sure, next time,” her words trailed off as her image faded to nothingness.

For more hard boiled crime fiction or nautical tales go to Friday Fictioneers hosted by the famous Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

A Wild Idea

National Park Service Centennial
August 25, 2016

Photo credit @PDPhoto

August 25, 2016 marks the U.S. National Park Service Centennial. The National Park System manages 407 national parks and continuously promotes good stewardship for the wild spaces we have come to love. These parks have been set aside for future generations to enjoy and we as Americans are stake holders in the continued efforts to preserve and protect them. Here is my tribute to Yosemite National Park and to two of the men who were dedicated to her preservation. #FindYourPark and National Park Service


A Wild Idea

Dear John,
No words can convey the hidden spirit of the wilderness and I confess that your vivid prose had not prepared me for the beauty of this wild place, a natural cathedral far grander than anything built by the hand of man*. I stood at the base of a 3000 year old sequoia and in its presence I could not envision a more commendable legacy than to preserve these giants.
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A Better Plan #FridayFictioneers

Photo credit @Adam Ickes

A Better Plan

Wanting to disappear, I curled into myself and buried my head under the soft pillow. If I made myself small enough, I could hide from the last hours of my dad’s life.
You wrapped around me, wanting to shield me from my grief.
“No more suffering,” you said but I wasn’t sure who’s suffering you meant.
“It feels like I killed him,” I confessed.
“He begged me to push him off a dock and leave him. I couldn’t do it,” you whispered.

“That’s just stupid,” I lifted my head with a soft chuckle, “God, I’m going to miss that ridiculous old cowboy.”


In control until his last breath, my father died exactly 24 hours after he told the hospice nurse, “This will all be over by tomorrow.” The story is true and I’m so glad that my husband didn’t agree to my dad’s demand. Calling hospice was exactly the right thing to do. He had a good death with my sister and I at his bedside. I couldn’t have wished for a better ending to his story. And a day doesn’t go by that I don’t miss him and his tales and his sense of humor.

For more 100 word stories sail over to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields‘ website and follow the dock to Friday Fictionners. (Oops, I guess it’s a bridge and not a dock.)

To Swallow the Truth #FridayFictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT- Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

To Swallow the Truth

I was to write a “thought piece” extolling the virtues of Lady Liberty; a bit of history and a huge dose of propaganda.

What I wanted to say was that The Lady had closed her arms and opened her legs long ago.

If I had swallowed my truth pill instead of sticking it under my desk, I could have easily written the lies.

“Diversity and discontent serve no purpose in our united state.”

Swallow or spit?

I reached under my desk, pulled off the wet capsule and swirled it on my tongue.

With the truth slowly dissolving in my mouth, maybe Lady Liberty wasn’t a whore after all.


For more Friday Fictioneer, 100 word “truths” trip over to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields website and follow your assignment without question. No Thought Police allowed.

Of All the Gin Joints #FridayFictioneers

Of All the Gin Joints

“Bloody hell Edwards, where are you?”
The literary terrorist had escaped her capture and the plot hole was beyond repair without him. In a drastic twist, she conjured up a copper.
“When was the last time you saw the subject?” the constable asked.
“Chapter 13, but he always comes back by 17.”
“Do you recall anything suspicious?”
“Now that you ask, yes, he was wearing a fez.”
“A boozer, eh?”
“Quite the contrary. You Sir are in a Victorian romance and Mr. Edwards is never in his cups.”
“So you say but I’ll still check all the gin joints in all the world?”


For more back alley musings and flash fiction visit our hostess at Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. She’ll allow you 100 words to complete your investigation.

This is a stand alone piece but if you’re curious about Mr. Edward the novel time traveler and literary terrorist, here’s a few of his adventures.

Exit The Page
Exit The Scoundrel
A Novel Romance

A Chance to Cut


It is too easy to lose your way as a physician when faced with the daily stress of real medicine. Spending time with the next generation of physicians gives me faith that we will always have a few doctors who stand out as not just competent, but caring healers.

My son is currently a surgical resident. I wrote this letter to him when he was an intern. A resident’s life is far from the glamorous stylized Grey’s Anatomy experience. It’s grueling and exhausting. I struggle as I watch him endure his chosen path. As a physician, I know exactly how he feels and I know that he will survive. As a mother, I want to smother him with love, make him sleep more and fix his schedule so that he can have two days off in a row to come home for Christmas. My husband reminds me when I hang up the phone in tears, “Keep the faith. He will be fine. You did it too and you survived.” I know in my heart that he will not only survive residency training but he will thrive. Continue Reading