Flash Fiction Friday -- August Rain

Last week I was in Arizona and a thunderstorm rolled in just as we were leaving. I love thunderstorms and have many memories of them as a child. Lighting storms in August in AZ are spectacular.

August Rain
©2008 Suzanne Lazear

Drip.

A giant raindrop slashed in front of me as I got out of the car. It left a dark splatter on the otherwise dusty gray asphalt.

Drip.

This one was about two feet from the other leaving a splash the side of a fifty-cent piece. It reminded me of a comment a long-forgotten teacher made about Arizona rain.

Drop.

The clouds had suddenly rolled over, coving the usually bright sun. The warm air was charged with moisture and electricity. It was August in Phoenix. That meant sudden monsoon showers and spectacular thunderstorms.

We were in for one now. I couldn’t wait. God knew we could use it.

Drip. Drip.

The car door closed behind me. These drips left spots on the hood. The car needed washed.

Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the air which had that special it’s going to rain smell. Ozone. It was like sweet perfume. A scent that brought back fond memories and excitement.

Crack.

I raised my face to the sky just in time to see a brilliant bolt of lightning shoot across the dark clouds.

Rumble.

The thunder echoed just behind it rumbling like a giant with a growling tummy. The deep rumble scared a bird out of the tree behind me.

Drip, drop, drip.

The rain was coming down harder now and I kept my face raised, embracing the fat warm drops as they splattered around me, on the car, the pavement, me.

Life bringer.

Storm singer.

It’s what made the desert come alive.

The sky lit up again, looking almost purple as another spectacular bolt of lighting flashed thought the sky. It was close.

One, two, three…

Rumble.

As a child my dad and I used to sit on the back porch and watch the lightning, even if the lights didn’t go out.

Now grown, I was still enchanted by lightning storms.

The drops were still warm, fat, and lazy, but there was so many more now. The asphalt was now more wet than dry.

Now my arms were raised, even though one held a paper sack from the grocery story. That too was covered in little wet spots.

Closing my eyes, I spun around. My own private rain dance.

The front door opened.

“Honey?”

I was still spinning, the voice on the edge of my consciousness.

Crackle Crack.

My eyes fluttered open again as I stopped spinning. One bolt after another shot thought the rolling clouds. It was very close, the thunder echoing almost immediately.

Now that was spectacular. Maybe angels really did go bowling.

A familiar face peered though the screen door. “You should come inside now, that one was very close.”

Tilting my face up once more, I allowed the rain to kiss me for one more moment. I inhaled the scent of the storm one last time.

Satisfied, I took my wet self and wet bag up to the door, which opened for me. He gave me a kiss. “I made some ice tea, do you want to sit on the back porch and watch the show?”

The door closed behind me and I heard the rumble of thunder once again.

Kicking off my shoes, I smiled. “That would be great.”

There was nothing quite like August Rain.

Contests and Such

So I don't usually enter contests. Ok, so the only writing contest I ever entered before June was the Amazon.com one and I didn’t make it past the 1st round, lol. But I entered one in June, on a whim. As in, I found out about it the night before it closed, said "what the hey" and entered Stealing Seattle. I got my score sheets back today. I didn't final, but I got great feedback. Granted I totally scrapped the first 20 pages, which was what I sent, but it's still great feedback. One just gave me all sorts of encouragement and smiley faces. I wish I knew who she was (handwriting looked like a she, lol). Anyway, I'm not sure if I'll enter any more anytime soon, since I haven't seen any accepting Urban Fantasy (paranormal romance, but not UF, lol), but I'm glad I entered.

Yes, I'm lame

I am in Arizona and I just didn't get my act together for a story this week. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you next week....

Worst Story Ever Contest

Over on the Guide to Literary Agents Blog they're running a Worst Story Ever Contest. Good log-lines need not apply. Some of the entries are pretty funny. My first entry is:
Sassy, leather-clad Quantum dust bunnies armed with electron guns and ding-dongs, seek to overthrow earth by using Hadron beams to get the lyrics of annoying songs stuck in people’s heads, the only ones who can defeat them are a pot smoking, Irish-dancing Quantum Physicist and his Japanese, midget girlfriend.
I do have to say I think Agent Janet Reid's is the funniest.

Flash Fiction Friday -- Finding Avril

Anyone want to guess what Caít is?

Finding Avril
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear

Emerging from the trees, Caít Coinín took a deep breath of fresh mountain air. It lacked the tang of peat and sheep she was used to, but she had sickened of the salty tang of ocean air in her journey.

What had possessed her to do that? Her back and arms ached. Perhaps next time she’d take a plane. The death traps were faster. But, plane tickets were traceable.

That was the whole point, why her mother defied Dane. So she could escape. Disappear.

The only problem was, Caít had no place to go.

Neither Coinín Bay nor the Keep had been her home. There were to places that had been closest to home -- Faolchú Foraois, and the small Texas University she had attended for a few years before Uncle Dane made her come home, breaking his promise to both her and Shay. But then Dane was hardly honorable.

Shay.

Shay had been her rock, her anchor for so long. Her solace. Her protection from Dane. In the end he had died because of her.

Still. Without him she was lost. Adrift. His absence literally created a hole in her soul. It felt empty.

It was nearly Summer Solstice. Soon all that pain would end. But first…

First she would indulge herself before she ended her life. Avril was one of her only friends.

Truly Caít had no friends in the clutch. She had thought she had a few friends in Shay’s pack. But…

She had been the cause of his death. If he hadn’t been with her, Dane never would have singled him out, as much as they hated their neighbors the Wolves.

No one in the pack would forgive her for that, she was sure. After all, she was nothing. No one. Only tolerated because of Shay.

Just like Uncle Dane had only tolerated her presence in the clutch because of her mother.

Worthless. Bastard. Half-breed. Good-for-nothing.

Shay had never thought of her that way. Neither had Avril. But back when they were students Avril had not known she was less than human. Or less than anything.

According to Dane she would have been better off being human rather than a good-for-nothing half-breed.

Of course Avril was no longer human either. What would she think of her now?

Caít couldn’t go to any of the places in Ireland. She would be found and returned, like the spoiled child she was.

But there was a Place in Colorado, not far from Moon River, where her friend now lived. If Avril didn’t wish to see her, she’d leave and make her way to The Place a few days early. Caít only wanted to make sure her friend was now safe and happy.

Caít closed her eyes, opening her senses, her mind. She wasn’t a very good tracker. The town was that way. It would be the best place to start if she were to find Avril.

Finished! Wow.

I started a YA project for my Dance Gurlz way back in October. By December I had abandonded it. About three weeks ago I got inspired and pounded out 22 chapters in 2 1/2 weeks. I did some edits and now the draft is in the eager hands of the Gurlz...
All I can say it wow. I never expected to compleate it. I can't wait to hear what they think of the draft.

Flash Fiction Friday -- The Journey

This is a little piece of speculative fiction I’ve been messing with from time to time. Enjoy

The Journey
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear


Sister Mary Grace sighed as she wiped the sweat off her brow as the drops rolled out from under her short black wimple. Her order still wore habits albeit they were freer and shorter than the black flowing ones of the days of old.

It was hot, and the black and white habit didn’t make it cooler, but she was the last of her sisters. Besides she didn’t have anything else.

Once called Ana, among other things, Sister Mary Grace left everything behind when she became a postulant, then a novice, and only six months ago had taken her simple vows in the order of the Sisters of Virtue.

An order that was gone along with nearly all of humanity.

A tiny cry woke her from her ruminations. Baby was the only other survivor, not just in the orphanage the sisters ran, or the sisterhood itself, but in the entire city of Chicago. She had looked for several days after her last sister had died. But other than her and Baby the city was now silent of human cries.

Finally she had gotten the call to take baby and leave the only home she had known since her parents died when she was four.

Packing supplies and tethering it to small pony that had wondered into her courtyard, probably someone’s former pet, she and baby set off to the Refuge. The place where the other survivors would meet.

Where they would wait.

For what she didn’t know.

But Mary Grace had faith. Perhaps it wasn’t the same kind of faith Mother Mary Hope spoke about, but it was faith all the same.

Giving her arms and back a cat-like stretch she planted a kiss on the top of the fuzzy head that poked out of the fabric carrier she wore on her chest. It was time to get up from under the shady tree.

All her muscles screamed.

She had been fragile ever since she could remember. Mary Grace was the last one anyone would think would have survived the sickness.

But faith, faith in something, something she could not explain in words, made her strong. Faith guided her on her journey.

As she stood up her hand went to the lump under her simple habit. It had been sheer impulse that made her take them. Since she had only taken simple vows Mother Mary Hope had kept her worldly possessions in case Mary Grace, Ana, decided in the next three years that the life of a sister was not for her. But the sisters were all she had known since her parents died.

The small medal and the ring on the golden chain were all Ana had from her previous life, the one where she had a mother and father. Where she was not little orphan Ana. It smacked of vanity when she took them from the vault in Mother Mary Hope’s office. But the order, her family, was gone and once again she was guided by faith.

How those two tiny objects would help her she didn’t know.

Faith, instinct, intuition, whatever it was it never steered her wrong. It had brought her to the orphanage and the sisters after the accident. It had guided her though life and now it was guiding her and Baby to the Refuge.

Jiggling Baby to calm him, she sang softly as she stowed her bottle of water in her pack. They’d need more supplies soon, especially milk for Baby. Tomorrow they’d find a farm where they’d find supplies. She tried to avoid cities unless she was guided there – too many feral animals.

With another sigh, she took the lead rope of the pony and continued her song. They had far to go today still as they continued their walk across the states. Sure it would take days, weeks even. But she would be the first and she’d have to get it ready for the others.

Besides when she found the Refuge there would be three with her and then four more would follow shortly thereafter.

They had lots of work to do before it was Time.

Flash Fiction Friday

Okay, I’m dead tired so I’m cheating. This is actually the prologue for something I’m working on, thought the main work will have a different title. I’d love to know what you think of it...


Sweet Sixteen
©2008 Suzanne Lazear


It was my sixteenth birthday. Mom had taken me out to dinner at Miceli’s in Universal City, an Italian restaurant with singing waiters. The waiter not only sang my favorite song Somewhere, but they sang me happy birthday and brought me spumoni with a candle in it.

For my birthday mom had given me a diamond bracelet – she had the diamond from the engagement ring daddy had given her reset. The half-carat diamond sat in the center of a golden rose and the charm hung from a delicate golden chain. In the dim light of the Italian restaurant it gleamed with the colors of a million rainbows.

“You’re old enough to have it now Kat dear.” Fastening it around my wrist, she gave me a kiss on the cheek. She and daddy had gotten divorced when I was four -- that was when we moved to Sherman Oaks, California. Daddy had stayed behind in Arizona.

That day at school, my best friend Maggie had brought me a huge bouquet of balloons and a really great t-shirt that said: You’re preaching to the choir, we’re all freaks here. We ditched third period and got donuts. I got an A on my trigonometry quiz. During chemistry, Tyler, who I’d had a crush on since the fifth grade had asked me to the upcoming Fall Dance. I had even passed my permit test. It was the perfect day.

“Want to drive?”

“Really?” My eyes lit up. She hadn’t let me drive to the restaurant from the DMV. This was very exciting indeed – my first time driving with my permit.

“Sure.” She tossed me the keys to her silver hybrid Honda Civic. “But go easy okay? Let’s take streets for now.”

That sounded good to me. I wasn’t sure I was ready for the 101 freeway. Easing the car out of our place on the street, I made my way to Cahuenga Boulevard. It was mid-week and later in the evening, so there weren’t that many cars on the road – for Southern California at least.

“Easy honey,” my mother warned again as I moved into the center lane, patiently awaiting my chance to turn onto Ventura Boulevard, also simply known as “The Boulevard.” I shot her a pained look. “It’s not you I worry about,” she assured, putting a manicured hand on my shoulder. “It’s everyone else.” My mother always looked beautiful and put together. I usually looked like I just rolled out of bed.

The arrow turned green and after looking both ways I started to turn left. “Kat!” my mom screamed. Slamming on the breaks, I tried to avoid the black Ferrari running the red light. The black Ferrari that was careening towards us. But it was too little too late. He was going too fast – way too fast. Deathly fast.

On impact, the sleek car pushed us into oncoming traffic. The sound of breaking glass, honking horns, and crunching metal filled my ears. My face and bare arms stung with the million pieces of glass that flew into my skin. Breath escaped me as my chest smacked into the airbag. Blood trickled into eyes, blinding me. My legs had no feeling.

“I love you honey,” my mom whispered, her hand seeking mine. It was the last thing I heard before the darkness enveloped me.