Strange how an idea can just grab something, and pop an entire world, mostly formed, into your head.

Mine is a bit over, but I may just keep it and see if it grows.

[link]

Rain got caught in his upturned collar, pooled, dripped cold down his neck. He smoked and ignored it.

Thirty-two deaths over the past one hundred twelve years. All horrific, each spawning its own new nightmares carried by the locals, each deepening the madness of the area a little bit more. Some day it might reach critical mass, the insanity heavy enough to sink through to another realm of hellish terror, tearing open a psychic doorway hanging tattered in its wake.

It was time to clean it up, excise the nightmare, expel the creature of blood and screams that imbued the place, embodied the place. That was his job, after all.

He was a Magistrate.

Photo

"What a cliché," said the Fearless Demon Hunter, rolling his eyes. "I really have this eye-rolling thing down," he thought. They were approaching the old convent, now converted to upscale condos.

"What do you mean?" said the Eager Young Apprentice.

"Everyone who's ever been to Catholic school dreams of killer nuns. Or killing nuns. Or dressing up little girls in nun's habits, taking pictures, then slipping the habit off slowly and…."

"And what?"

"What was I saying? I was saying that there's no such thing as killer nuns."

He was still saying that when the rosary tightened around his neck.

Ok, just got praise from an editor for something I could do with one finger tied behind me(not literally. Much like Mr. Olbermann, I am a two-fingered typist. However.) It's cake. So that's why I look like Wonder Woman turning it in so fast. Also, I have no life, a shiny new internet connection and the urge to pretend that I am the kind of person for whom deadlines still matter. A "citizen", so to speak. Also, asking me to do that is like asking Dr. House to consult on your sinusitis. Except I am polite and will follow through... But I guess I'll just end up e-mailing "Thanks so much. Glad you like it." "I saw my life flash before my eyes. I've got to get myself a life."

MM, kind of a Constantine feel to that one. I'd love to see it grow.

Ginger--the coffee, when it's snorfled? Burns a bit. Also? I just noticed the heart-shaped photo corners on that pic and have this whole "had a crush on Belinda, before she was Sister Mary Emmanthaler" thing going on.

Just a note to let people know my occasional column, "How to Succeed As A Failing Writer," is back. The current installment is: Long Time Quiet Now: A brief break in the silence.

Photo drabble. This one.

She doesn’t get paid enough for this.

“No blood at least.” Marty’s shock of pewter hair falls in his eyes as he crouches over his newspaper. “Should have seen that dealer get popped.”

She rolls the cleaning cart out onto the sidewalk. Some girl took a handful pills to disappear, and once the dull roar of chaos has faded, who gets to clean up? She does, that’s who.

She tucks her hair behind her ear. At least she’s got a job, a place of her own. She does what she has to do.

She doesn’t look in the mirror, though.

Oooh, nice, Amy. You guys are gonna get all the good ones before I get a chance to sit down and plot.

The photo drabble challenge is now closed.

This week's challenge is center.

How do I know if something should be a story or a book? Because I got an idea yesterday...

Write it and see how long it is when you're done?

Which sounds kinda facetious, but it's the only way I know. Not that I've ever had a short story idea in my life. With me it's stand-alone vs. series.