Life’s bare existence

footprints leading to the brink

bottomless pit

Trapped headlong flight

never ending hereafter

snagged on life’s branches.

Awaken to life

cherished and blessed by the sun

Goodbye heartless world.

Gulp breaths of being

bare arms to vitality

open wide the door.

Life beats existence

treasure all it has to share

a delightful gift.

When the dust settles

I won’t be the same -

give me wings

to fly

in the face

of transformation.

Wind will blow

in different directions,

gentle tugs pull me up

in muddy swirls

of painted crimson.

Layers of doubt

spackled over,

faded eyes,

closed to pale past,

heading into the sun

without backward glance.

Scraping and chipping

dark shadows away

Folded corners opened,

labels peeled off

removing subterfuge.

chips of time elapse.

Bruises of life

cushioned with clouds

wave in the sky,

swaying with

change of the wind.

Morning calls me home.

Gabriel Gaston’s glib goat, Giddyup,

gaily gulped gluttonously

green, goopy, grandiose guavas,

gobby grapes,

grazing greedily,

glibly gobbling grabbed goodies,

growing greatly

garbled guffaws;

gamely, gawking, giggling

gloved gaudy geckos

gathered goofily

gizzards gushing goodbye;

geeky, gangly grazing grub gangs

gamely gummed, glugged glob gruel,

gasping gruffly,

going, going, gone;

great gauzy, guarded

glacial gazebos grew gated

greasy green galactic gardens;

gassy gophers grinned gamely

gashing gross garbage glumly,

guzzling gluey gumbo gravy;

grimy goldfish,

gilded gills,

gallons got gamey, greasy;

gleeful greedy gerbils

gregariously gloated,

grabbed gritty, gunky grains,

groaning giddily;

ghastly, gaudy gators

groveled, gored ghouls;

gluttonous greedy gibbons

groped gaily

grinned gloatingly,

galloping gallantly,

grand girths,

good, golly gracious;

guy guppies goaded,

grabbed gong gizmos;

glitzy, gutsy glowing gull guests

gradually glided glimmering;

gimpy grouchy geeky geezers

gravely gasped gas

gratefully, grotesquely,

grave goners;

Great golden goldfinches

gagged, gaped, grunted,

gored grapes;

grand glorified gazelles

groomed girdles glamorously;

grinning gorilla gladiators

grimaced glorified gusto;

gruesome gnus groaned

grunts grumpily;

gritty, gutsy groundhogs

gripped gouged gutters,

gloating guardedly;

garbed gossamer gilded geese

goose-stepped games,

gaily gracefully;

gobby guano glazed

grainy ground gradually;

glamorous grasshoppers

groped grass gruel glibly;

glimmering glowworm gawked,

gleefully glistening garishly;

gruesome ghost gals

garbled goals grudgingly;

gregarious guided geldings

grazed gulch grasses

grabbing grandiosely;

glassy-eyed guileless  grizzlies

guiltlessly grab great 

gimpy groveling gerbils,

guzzling guts,

gustatory goodies;

galaxy gathered grandly

gainful goodness,

gavels guiding

glossy glowing

glistening gifts.

If I invoke impudence, it is ignorance I indulge insofar I'm immensely interested in impressive idiosyncrasies involving inclinations into innovative intercourse, investigating intriguing intimate information involving imaginative individuals in infatuations incorporating immoral, ignominious, insanely intense invasions into impregnable, inner inlets inside impenetrable inamorata--inconspicuously incognito--including idiomatic innuendo, indelicate ineffability, immodest indecency, impure impropriety, inspiring inventiveness, ingeniously inciting incentives--insatiably incessant, incessantly insatiable--inasmuch it is inevitably implied in important, indiscreet, illicit invitations, I imagine.

[This is a shorr story set in the world of my novel, Roco, which is about a squirrel who turns into a human. I wrote this piece solely for this challenge—it's not an excerpt, although it features characters, themes, etc., from the novel. More technical details after the sample.]

The squirrel paused on the treeroad—really, a few branches in the proximity of each other—and surveyed the forest floor. To us, the squirrel would have looked like any other Western Gray with his silver fur coat and creamy white belly all shadowed by a tail-banner.

But to other rodents, this squirrel was instantly recognizable from tiny unique features on his face, ears, and fur, and by his smell—a mixture of oak tree, sugar breath (his family had a secret patch of berries), vinegar, and rectum. His name was Oakbear.

“Roco!” shouted Oakbear at the still woods. "You've gone too far!"

Oakbear had come to a perimeter in the trees invisible to us but easily detected by the sensitive nose of a squirrel. Here was a disturbing lack of familiar smells, specifically the fur trace and rectum oils of the Village. Oakbear didn't know this forest except in the abstract. These trees hadn't been frequented by squirrels for a few summers because the dreys had become nesting sites for owls. In chasing season, those damned birds hunted tirelessly, mostly for mice but sometimes four-legged meat as big as a Western Gray. While the Village hadn't heard hoots this year, it didn't mean there wasn't a nest being developed somewhere. In the heat of the chase, if a squirrel wasn't careful, he might find himself embraced by claws sharper than a broken beer bottle.

Vibrations on the treeroad told Oakbear someone was coming. He looked back, his head motion almost mechanical, and peered into the leaf-cover with a discerning black eye. But it was only Sudry, a pup about the same age, who still lived in a drey with his parents.

It was apparent Sudry's parents had just birthed a new litter, because the squirrel's fur had the sour scent of nursing whelps. To give you a complete account, Sudry smelled like sour hair, wet leaves, botfly, cinnamon, and rectum. He had a few things to work on before he’d be a suitable mate. The Western Gray's scientific name is Sciurus Griseus, phonetically 'greasy scurrier,' an apt description here.

"Where is she?" asked Sudry, panting.

"Somewhere around here," grumbled Oakbear. "You know, every other female lets her mate catch her after awhile. Somehow I ended up chasing the one squirrel who doesn't want to be caught."

"Maybe she's not ready to settle down."

"But I have the drey in Meadowbrook. The one with the view of the valley. And I have access to a bear's horde of berries. And—" Oakbear struggled to think of more reasons why he was such a desirable squirrel. "And I'm strong!" To prove his might, Oakbear picked up a bark beetle and broke it in half. Sudry tried to look impressed, but he'd seen all of this before. "And—"

"And your cheeks," said Sudry.

"Right! I could fit a hawk between these chompers."

"Mind, too."

"Thank you! Almost forgot—I have the memory of a bluejay. Never misplaced a cone." 

As Oakbear reviewed how fast he could scamper, how many worms he could dig up, how warmly he could cuddle, Sudry watched a squirrel wriggle onto a branch overhead. Then a cone plonked on Oakbear's back.

"Owl!" shouted Oakbear, jumping away, his hair jutting out like a porcupine. He would have fallen right there if his leap hadn't luckily taken him to another branch—a branch which he clung to tightly, upside down.

Above, a high-pitched: "Rocococo!"

Roco also looked like every other Western Gray Squirrel, although she was a little slimmer, having been something of a runt. Although Sudry couldn't smell her from his branch, he knew she was an odd concoction of familiar and exotic scents. Even if she smelled of the usual fungus, nuts, moss, the sides of trees, carcasses, bugs, and mud—they were not the fungus, nuts, etc., of the Village.

But Roco was not named for her smells. Instead, she was named after her ululating laugh, which sounded something like“rocococo.” It was an odd thing for a squirrel to do. Although squirrels often lived carefree and simple lives, they were more prone to scold than scoff. But Roco was always laughing, and at events nobody else found funny. She chuckled when Hepper’s mate discovered her husband had eaten all the foodstores for winter—she rococo’d when Mottle mistook a pebble for an acorn—and she collapsed when Elder Smells-Like-Bark-Beetle accidentally fell on a beaver. Now, her prank was creating all sorts of undignified chatter.

"Roco, you could have killed me!" shouted Oakbear. Roco downclimbed (for treetrunks are highways to squirrels) and stood on Oakbear's branch.

"Still chasing me, Bearbutt?"

"Yes," said Owlbear, looking nervously at the forest floor. Squirrels were immune to the fear of heights, but Owlbear was unaccustomed to being vulnerable.

"Why don't you go find some pretty pup in the Village and leave me alone?"

"But—my berries," reminded Oakbear.

Roco made a choking noise, and for a moment they thought she was sick. Then she coughed up a slimy blue pebble.

"Already found your patch. Thought your family could squirrel that away forever?" Roco looked to Sudry, who was watching her shyly. "Hello, friend." 

"Hello."

"Race you to the lake."

With that, Roco leaped away, taking the treeroad deeper into the wood. Her two suitors, however, didn't need any more prompting to head back. 

* * *

Regarding the Novel

Title: "Roco"

Genre: Modern Fantasy (Native American & Norse Mythology)

Target Audience: Teenagers and above.

Age Range: 12+, although it's YAF, I think twentysomethings would enjoy this, too.

Word Count: 50,000+

Author: Desmond White

Project: Modern fantasy is a popular genre right now, and my book comes at it from an interesting angle: a squirrel turned into a human! Plus, I'm going to catch those nostalgic Animorph fans.

Hook: A squirrel who's been turned into a human must rescue her friend from an ancient order of snakes who inhabit (and control) people's bodies.

Synopsis: Roco's mother, Nutsour, filled their warm, comfortable nights in their drey with stories about ancient squirrel heroes outwitting all sorts of nasties—from hawks to foxes to eagles to bears. One day, the opportunity for adventure presents itself when a human girl on the run (and slowly recovering from a poisonous bite) hides in the Crown, the squirrel's hill-village. The girl, who can use spellrunes to perform feats of magic, is able to communicate with the squirrels, and soon contracts Roco to be her sentry in exchange for bits of a granola bar. The girl saves Roco's life when the squirrel is attacked by an owl—an act that reveals the girl's position to her pursuers. Now, Roco must rescue the human girl from these mysterious enemies (which look like human beings but smell like slithering things) on an adventure that will pit her wits, and her mother's stories, against ancient monsters and mages. Roco's story becomes even stranger when a "helpful" ancient spirit, in ironic jest, turns her into the most powerful creature on the planet—a human being. A human girl, in fact.

Regarding the Author

Bio: A high school teacher who writes when his students aren't looking.

Platform: Prose, Personal Blog

Education: UCSB College of Creative Studies (B.A. in Literature); HBU (Master of Liberal Arts)

Writing Style: Poetic, Concise, with a snap of Snark

Hobbies: Playing & Designing Board/CardGames; Reading & Discussing Philosophy, Rhetoric, and Old Books; Doting on my Wife and her two Evil Cats

Hometown: Sugar Land, Texas

Age: 27, going on 28 in August

Website: www.desmondwrite.com

Twitter: @desmondwrite

I am water,

tap dancing on souls

with ethereal feet,

flowing through veins,

moody and reckless.

Permeating layers

of skinned stone,

plunging membranes

of crystal water.

Moving like silk

through rumpled sheets.

Slow and sweltry tenacity

increasing to throbbing,

fingers of water

urgently touching

dry, fiery river bed.

My flooding waters

can create or destroy,

every drop of me

is your life,

shimmering spirit

of hope.

Turbulence,

racing blindly

in thirsty gulps,

splashes of fine mist

swimming onward,

puddling on skins.

Vagabond drops

of water meandering

boldly to the sea.

It was the end of the week on a Friday when I answered my telephone. Even before I picked up my phone, I felt that I could feel the sense of urgency to its demanding rings. I considered letting it continue to ring and leaving the office for the weekend, but in a job like mine, I knew that it could be an emergency with one of my psychiatric patients. I really wanted to go home to my cozy apartment and have a stiff drink since it had been a difficult week for me. I pictured and imagined the smell of the warm pot roast that my housekeeper had left in my oven. I hadn’t had time to eat any lunch and was ravenous.

“Hello,” I said into the mouthpiece, trying not to show my annoyed feelings. “This is Dr. Cohen.”

“Dr. Cohen, this is Jade. I just needed to hear your reassuring voice. I am feeling shaky and a little unhinged. The last couple of months have been challenging for me.”

I felt a tremor of concern course through my body upon hearing Jade’s voice. She seldom called me with good news. “Jade, is anything wrong? Where are you? Is your husband okay?” I really hated to ask these questions but believed that I needed to get to the bottom of Jade’s obvious emotional state. At the same time, I felt a little aroused as I waited for her tale to begin to unfold. Jade took the actions that were only ‘pie in the sky’ for me. My admiration for Jade began to increase as I saw her reach for her dreams once again. I could imagine such things but I did not have the guts to follow through. One day, I hoped to let my inhibitions go.

“Oh, Dr. Cohen, I am no longer in North Dakota and I am no longer with my husband.”

“Did you get a divorce or are you separated?” I asked hopefully, needing her to assure me that he was still in the land of the living. However, I knew that this was unlikely.

“My beloved husband, Jim, had a terrible accident. The bed of a truck came down suddenly and crushed him to death. Please don’t think it was my fault – it was an accident. The truck mechanism malfunctioned and slammed down on him. The insurance company admitted that the truck was defective and settled out of court,” Jade promised with muffled sobs. “I am so upset and will miss him so terribly.”

I really did not believe Jade entirely but she was so convincing. I knew that I must give her the benefit of the doubt. And she did sound very distressed and troubled. “Jade, are you all right? I am so sorry. I know that you really seemed to like this husband. Where are you? Would you like to come in to see me? Is there anything else bothering you that you want to talk about?” In my heart, I wanted Jade to be a normal person and I couldn’t help but care about her. She had been my patient for a long time and I felt a connection to her. Her downward erosion seemed to be pulling my values down to her levels and I couldn’t do anything about it. I also was beginning to become sexually aroused by the tales of her exploits, although I did not want to admit my shortcomings.

“I had to get away from North Dakota after the tragedy,” informed Jade. “I am in the sunshine in Miami Beach trying to get back to normal. I need this time to rest and recuperate and can’t get in to see you now. But there is something I need to discuss with you. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course, Jade,” I reassured her. “Is something bothering you other than the tragic death of your husband?”

“Dr. Cohen, I am still having feelings of paranoia. I am sure that some sinister person is watching me and wants to do me harm. He seems to be inside my mind, making me believe that he is responsible for the hardships and pain in my life. Is this a just a figment of my imagination or is this really happening to me? I try not to have these feelings but they are beginning to overcome me. They seem to persist day and night and I find it hard to go on with my life.”

“My plan is beginning to work,” I thought. “Soon Jade will be completely consumed by her paranoia. I think that she will eventually be unable to function and I won’t have to take any drastic actions. The course of her behavior needs to stop and I must become the master manipulating his puppet.” My slight body seemed to expand and become more powerful as I took charge of my patient.

“Jade,” I assured her, “if you think something is so, it is true in your mind. You must avoid the conduct that brings on your paranoia. It might be reaching the time that you need to take yourself away from the world to a place where you can be helped and medicated. Do you think that now is the time when you feel ready for this kind of solitude and peace from your thoughts?” I smiled as I thought of having Jade in my complete control where she would have no choice but to cater to my every whim. “Yes,” I thought, “an institution would be perfect for her and I could see her whenever I wanted.”

I listened as Jade’s mood completely changed from darkness to light.

“Dr. Cohen, I am fine,” she chirped with a lilt in her voice. “I was just feeling some doubts and needed to hear your voice. I feel much better now. Thanks for helping me and talking to me. I will keep in touch with you.” She had dismissed me summarily, as if my advice had no merit.

Hearing the phone disconnect, I held the phone in my hand, unable to put it down. I was overcome by a feeling of apprehension. I was angry that she did not listen to my advice. A chill convulsed my body but I knew that I could do no more. Maybe in the future, Jade would be more amenable to my suggestions. If not, I would have to do whatever I could to stop her. I really did not want to do what I feared would be necessary.

_____________________________________________________________________

Title:  Jade Murder Without Remorse

Genre: Psychological Thriller 

Age Range:  Adult from 18 to 80

Word Count this write: 1100 words Book Word Count 64987 words

Author Name:  Pen Name: Sari Lantana Real Name: Claire Grebin

Why a good fit: This book would be a good fit because it is an exciting psychological thriller which would appeal to many readers.  It has a very unique twist that no one will be able to foresee. It is very well researched and delves into psychological aberrations.

The hook:  The subject of this book is a psychopathic murderer.  The book delves into what caused her to be this way and is seen through a psychiatrist's eyes. Every murder draws the reader in but the conclusions reached will not be what is expected.

synopsis: Escape into the realm of the beautiful, psychopathic Jade who commands both love and hate as she charges forward in many twists and turns, engineering novel ways to kill her four husbands. Become immersed in the world of renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Cohen, who is conducting a research study on psychopaths, hoping to understand them and prevent them from treading on dangerous paths. The story of Jade is told as seen through the eyes of Dr. Cohen. But Dr. Cohen has a hidden, devious aspect as he finds himself becoming involved in a symbiotic relationship with Jade. Against his better judgment, he finds himself wishing that he had the courage to take a risk and explore the dark side as his patient does. Will he have the courage to step over the line? The suspense mounts to a conclusion that will be both shocking and unexpected. Ride this thrilling adventure into the uncharted future because the ending will prove challenging and out of the realm of imagination of even the most astute.

Target Audience:  Adults of any age.

Bio Platform:  I am a self-taught writer, college educated and have a background of owning and operating a dive boat charter business from Miami to the Bahamas where I saw many unusual situations and interesting characters which made me want to write my first book, Bahama Red, Intrigue on the High Seas, which is based loosely on my experiences.  I now have a second book, Jade Murder Without Remorse, and am working on my third book, Half of Me is Missing, which will tie back to my book, Jade Murder Without Remorse.  My books are published as e-books. I write on Prose daily and am number one on their popularity list so have many followers.

Personality:  I am creative in most areas such as my writing and I also paint and sell my work.  I love adventure and like to incorporate it into my books.  I love to walk, do aerobics, go to the gym and I also like to socialize. I have a love for the sea and often include it in my work.  I am lucky enough to live in a little seaside town which feeds my passion.  I love to research my books so that the reader will become fascinated but not feel overwhelmed by pedantic facts.  I love to fool the reader so the ending will be completely unexpected.

Likes/Hobbies:  I write, paint, sew, enjoy friends, fish, like the beach, enjoy exercise, prolific reader.

Hometown:  Flagler Beach, Florida

When he arched an eyebrow, he created fear in anyone who was near. It wasn’t that his appearance was frightening in and of itself but if you scrambled all his features together, the picture he presented was intimidating. Cloudy blue eyes seemed to hide devious thoughts as he peered out of the side of his face, so no one could be sure if he was looking directly at them. He had a long, deep scar running down his cheekbone, giving the impression that he had lost a violent confrontation. His nose looked like it had fallen off the side of a mountain since it was splayed to one side. A ruddy, weathered face gave the impression that he had lived a hard life. When he walked into a store, everyone stopped and stared, pretending they weren’t looking, sheltered behind their sunglasses, thinking he didn’t see them. But make no mistake! He was very aware of every movement and every thought as he kept his barrier around him. No one could ever sneak up behind him because he had been well trained as a member of the Delta Force years back. He knew how to walk stealthily, had been well versed in intelligence work, had been overseas several times and knew how to kill. But now, his brain was fried and he existed mainly on the streets.

People walking by him on the sidewalks averted their eyes and pretended they didn’t see him. Occasionally, a stray dog would lift his leg and urinate on his ragged form. He hardly noticed as he focused on the anger bubbling inside him. “I served my country, no one cares, I’m thrown away in the gutter, there are spies all around me, those voices keep talking to me, talking, talking. I can’t sleep, I’m cold, I’m hungry, I see the black all around me, everyone’s dead, I can see the veins in my legs, the bright light hurts my eyes!” On and on, he ranted and raved, never making much sense, but the pain festered on, burning his guts. He never seemed to notice that his pungent smell was overwhelming as he picked his blistered feet and then wound dirty rags around them. “I have to walk and find it! I know it’s somewhere! Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop! They took it! I know they did! They’ll be sorry!” He was a broken record that couldn’t stop revolving but no one was willing to take the time to help him.

Every day, he stopped at the Salvation Army to gulp down his one meal of the day, dribbling it down the side of his face and wiping it with his filthy fingers. Sometimes, he would snatch extra food off the plates of others sitting near him, causing them to avoid him. The operator of the food kitchen would take pity on him, once in a while, slipping him an extra sandwich which he crammed into his pocket on top of the sandwich he had been given the other day. He wouldn’t eat it because it had poison in it. Maybe he’d feed it to the dog that used his leg as a fire hydrant. Yeah, that would serve him right. “Dead dog, dead dog, dead dog!”

“I’m dead myself!”

My Dad is here

     I walk along the empty beach

     kicking bits of jagged shells

     grand old man lying in musk of time

     setting sun ushering the darkness

My Dad is here

     I crawl bereft into bruised dusk

     salty tears mingle with Dad’s streams

     sea of solace stretches out her arms

     still, I scream mournfully at deaf sky

My Dad is here

     balmy winds breathe his kindness

     glazed stars of his wide smile

     palms up, he waves his sweet goodbye

     my grief blends with the soft rain

My Dad is here

     I see the back of his head

     slumbering in billowing clouds

     thirsty tides have waned

     he has floated into new ripples

My Dad is here

     the crested waves swell

     forming stiff meringue peaks

     broken shells washed out to sea

     waters unassuming and deep

My Dad is here

     the peaceful sleep of angels

     on calmness of ocean floor

     casting his beloved shadow

     upon my azure memories

My Dad is here

     carving a path in the sand

     through the ups and downs of life

     surging currents to remind me

     that he is not lost in my sea

My Dad is here

     a life buoy to hold on to

     smooth water fingers

     cushioning me from grief

     the soothing sound of silence

My Dad is always here

Inside the White House.

Donald Trump: 

How dare they reject my genius healthcare plan. I don't know what their problems is. I think it's rigged. There's obviously some sort of wiretapping going on.

Steve Bannon:

I know. Ridiculous, right?

Donald Trump:

I'm gonna tweet how wrong they are.

Steve Bannon:

Don't do that... and you just did that.

Donald Trump:

Maybe everyone in the world is right. I'm a joke.

Steve Bannon: 

You? A joke? Never! Donny boy, you've got to pull yourself together.

Gosh it disturbs me to see you, Don Trump

Hanging so low by the ropes

You're such a brilliant man, Don Trump

So don't you listen to those dopes

There's no man that'll make America great again

You're featured on the cover of Time

Everyone wants to drop and go down on you

And now I break out into rhyme

Nooooooooo oooooone's

Wise like Don Trump

No one's got thighs like Don Trump

No one's hands are as big as Don Trump's

For there's no man in the whole country

Perfectly orange on each spot

You can always ask Mike, Paul, & Vlady

And they'll tell you whose back they've got

Chorus:

Nooooooooo oooooone's

Got riches like Don Trump

No one bitches like Don Trump

No one's worth billions like Don Trump

Donald Trump:

As a business man, yes, I'm intimidating

Chorus:

Wow, what a prez, that Don Trump

Go build that wall

Each bit by bit

Steve Bannon:

Don Trump is the best,

Everyone else can eat shit

Chorus:

Nooooooooo oooooone

Argues like Don Trump

No one starts fights like Don Trump

In a farting match, no one stinks like Don Trump

For there's no one in town that sprays

Donald Trump:

So much spray so I'm tan as a fool

Mike Pence:

He lied to the blacks and the gays

Donald Trump: 

That's true, and also my hair looks very cool

Chorus:

No one hits like Don Trump

Or spits racism like Don Trump

Betsy DeVos:

On Twitter, Nobody out tweets like Don Trump

Donald Trump: 

I am indeed very literated. #thatisaword #reallysmart

Chorus: 

That's another win for Don Trump

Donald Trump: 

When I was on The Apprentice, I became more famous

Owning at least 50 new cars

And now that I'm president, I have lots of dough

So now I can buy Madagascar

Chorus:

Why?

Donald Trump:

Doesn't matter. Keep singing.

Chorus:

Nooooooooo oooooone

Falsely accuses like Don Trump

No one harasses women like Don Trump

Steve Bannon:

Then goes to the camera calling fake news like Don Trump.

Donald Trump: 

I've got dollar signs in all of my paintings.

Neo Nazis: 

Salute him again!

KKK: 

He's the man among men

Rednecks:

He won the voting floor.

Westboro Baptist Church: 

He's the hero we prayed for.

Chorus:

He's the enemy of the press

Don't you know? Can't you guess?

Ask his fans that we've paid off

He's the one guy in town 

Whose got America bent down

Steve Bannon: 

And his name is D-O-N... I just occurred to me that I honestly don't know how to spell his full name because I'm more for spending money on weapons and defense rather than our educational system. But you know who I'm talking about, right?

Don Truuuuuuuuuuump