Baby It’s Cold Outside

The suitcase lay open as she looked round the room. What to take… what to take. Her thoughts were interrupted by thudding from the trunk at the foot of her bed. For a moment she stared blankly her focus still leaning toward sweaters and should she pack that one pair of jeans she owns. “Oh yeah.” She opened the trunk. “Forgot about him.” He looked up at her partly terrified, mostly angry. “Still haven’t learned” she said aloud. “How do you like being spell-bound? Literally.”

She winked and he woke in the local park being cuffed for nudity.

She decided to leave the jeans.

The prompt today is:

…the suitcase lay open…




Between: Adventures With The Undead Continues A Bit More But Not That Much

When I stepped out the door I didn’t see them but I thought I saw a path across from the yard. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe I liked to walk that way before I was dead, or whatever. I didn’t get far before I heard the two boys talking just ahead. Interesting the way focusing on them helped me forget about my peeling skin. Remember that? Yeah, it’s still peeling. Interesting the way I can’t feel a breeze or know if I stepped in water, can’t hear sounds of nature but I could hear those people, or the two of them. Weird.

Food for thought on the topic of peeling skin: am I somewhere damp, I mean, my body? Maybe? Don’t know what would make your skin peel other than sunburn. Should catch up with those two. If they’d call each other by a name I might get a clue.

I couldn’t help but get caught up in the peacefulness of the path – the trees, the scenery. Couldn’t tell if there were any noises so no detecting a babbling brook, wouldn’t know if I stepped in one unless I looked down, but I got such a feeling. Maybe I liked it here. Watch out, genius emerging…

Better catch up with those boys.

And So It Begins – Cabin Fever, Maybe

She remembered the horse walking by, the angel of death on its back and the head of the former Starbucks manager protruding from its rump looking wide wild-eyed and alarmed.

Does wild wide-eyed sound better. Hmmm, have to think about that.

Could you blame him? Wonder if they’d given him time to repent before that one, then again they would certainly know if someone would mean it or if the likelihood of contrition was nil. His name was Mark. That’s right, Mark. Thank-goodness that place stayed open. There wasn’t much to see, not many places to go but those who’d survived were trying to rebuild, clean up, do what they could so life would move on and enough was still open to survive. She’d venture out today. Getting cabin fever. As much as she loved her word processor maybe she’d spring for a laptop.

Between: Adventures With The Undead Continues A Bit


“She could still be alive then if it’s only one.”

“I know.”

“What could have happened? Somebody jump her? Did she fall somewhere?”

He looked at his friend exasperated. “How would I know but I know where she walks. We walk back that way all the time when we’re doing stuff together. I’ll bet she’s unconscious. That’s why we can feel her so strong here.”

“That almost makes sense except wouldn’t we feel her strongest where she was unconscious and not here? She’d be floating around there. Why would we feel her here?

Oww! Why’d you do that?” He cooed as he massaged what might be a bicep someday.

“Floating? Because meathead, she’d come back here, her, I don’t know, her subconscious self to the place she lived… maybe? Who knows how it works but if something happened to me I’d want to let someone know about it. I’d jump out of my body or something. Try to reach someone. I’m like her. She’s not a person who gives up easy.”


They both went out the door and I just stood there. That one boy looked familiar. Actually, so did his friend but there was something about that one. According to them I had a family, well; he was my family. I went out the door. If I followed them I might remember something.


World Without End 2: White Wine For You


What else can I make him do? She thought about it as she watched him go from cleaning to making coffee, something he wouldn’t touch when he was alive. Always something she had to do for him, such a sin more than housework making it really a surprise. When he’d finished he turned and faced her saying not a word. “Was he focusing?”

She went to pour herself a cup. He stood still eyes not moving as she passed him. “Guess not.” She watched. It was the first time she’d tried the spell and thought that so far it’d turned out well.

No laundry to do, cleaning’s done, coffee was a treat, what else? “Those leaves” she thought. “Francis can you take care of those leaves outside? Bag them up and stack them at the curve?” He turned to her. “My name is Francis.” “Yes, you remember?” “I’m dead?” She couldn’t resist, “Still are.”

She watched him walk into the yard. “He almost looks worried” fleeted through her mind.

She watched him from the window as he cleaned the entire yard up. Were those tears rolling down his cheeks? He’d never cried, never.

As he stacked full bags on the curb she went outside to see. He stood back to look over what he’d done, a trait from when he was alive, always admiring his own work. He kept backing into the road. Her house located on a bend sharp as an elbow.


She ran toward him calling and waving her arms. He looked up at her and grinned. “He was figuring it out, no way!” A truck hit him full on as he burst into leaves filling the street dissipating before they could land. The bags he’d filled still there.

“Son of a gun” was her only thought as she watched the truck not even tap the brakes but drive away. Did he beep? Who was driving? She hadn’t seen.



“He turned ‘to leaves?” Her friend Rachel asked. “Yeah, that was surprise.” Naomi did say. “I put more sage than it asked and cut belladonna in half. Added pinches of rosemary as it stewed.” “Doubt I could replicate it. Your gift is different than mine.” “Still”, Naomi said, “I’d help you give it a try, but someone has to have died… he didn’t die suddenly enough the first time I can tell you. The way it ended was satisfying in a sense…” she trailed off as they clinked their glasses.

“More white wine?”