Tag Archives: Dogs

Jung, @Heart (The #AtoZChallenge)


Welcome to the A to Z Challenge during the month of April

Welcome to… The Apartment Building


“In sleep, fantasy takes the form of dreams. But in waking life, too, we continue to dream beneath the threshold of consciousness, especially when under the influence of repressed or other unconscious complexes.”

Carl Jung, 1929

It’s 3:42 am, and everyone in Swan Rise Apartments is asleep. That will change, soon enough, with a handful of middle of the night trips to the bathroom, a baby’s cry, some alarms to grumble awake those early to rise, and one unexpected and unwanted phone call.

But, at 3:42 am, dreams come.


A dark figure flits across the hallway, careening into the walls and falls, gets up, falls again. It drags itself along and Dotty finds herself sitting at her old kitchen table with a cup in her hand, the dark figure sitting across from her. She is sure it’s a man, but too fuzzy to make out. She knows she is laughing, but she feels embarrassed. She’s being judged, she knows it, and there is nothing she can do to stop it. Dotty wants to stop laughing, but doesn’t know how.

Scott is falling. His hair moves upwards, his hands reaching for the black sky, as backwards he tumbles down. There’s a pressure on his chest. Scott is talking, his day at work flinging itself out of his mouth. He turns his head to the left and there is a reflection of the sun, dimming.

Growl Run Run Run Tear at the food chasing eat eat eat eat eat eat eat….throw it…throw it…throw itttttt…….


Bent, over a grave of yellow flowers, he wipes petals away with tears. He picks up  the book and it is sharp, jagged, and it leaves his hand in an arc over a body of steaming water and is gone…entwined they/he/she grope and their skin is hot in patches…there is a locked door….there is a door…there is…

Floating, wind moves the unseen buoyed vessel along. It’s blowing tree branches, and leaves are swaying in a back and forth motion, and rain droplets sting lightly along unclad skin. She is spread eagle, and feels alternating shivers and spikes as they hit. She knows she was talking to someone, but there is no foundation for who or about what.

lick lick lick sCRATch scratch scratCHscratchhh….run run run RUn…throw the damn thing…throw the damn thing…


Dotty and Scott arrive at the elevator at just about the same exact time, on different floors. He inwardly curses that the elevator went up past him, but he waits for it to return. Reaching down, he pets the top of his dog’s  head, and gets his wrist licked in return.

Rex’s tail thumps on the tile floor.

The door opens, and Dotty is in front of the door with her shopping cart filled to the brim with laundry. Rex wants to rush in but is held back. He whines while Dotty narrows her eyes and purses her tight thin lips. She moves aside, and Scott and Rex enter.

Scott has to say “Sit!” three times before the command filters in. Rex just wants a scratch.

They reach the ground floor and the door opens. Rex jumps up but Dotty pushes ahead, squeaking her cart along. She and Scott say “Have a nice day” to each other, but…

Rex has already forgotten her.

Under Bubble and Squeaks (Bluebell Books Short Story Slam #11)


Bluebell Books: Short Story Slam #11

Peggy barked, then jumped, leaping for the bubble that had been taunting her. An evil bubble, it had remained out of reach after The Girl had waved the wand in her hand, sending a cascade of air encased  globules of watery soap.  Now, the temptress bubble floated down, bursting as Peggy bit.

Look…another and another and another. The Girl laughed and squeak-giggled and spun around, sending out more and more floating spheres that caught the sun and mirrored back rainbows. Peggy chased them, catching what she could, always looking for more. One light speckled orb was way up high, caught in a stream of breeze that played with it. Peggy followed, ignoring the call from The Mother of The Girl.

The bubble hovered, after first doing a zig-zag dance over an open field of flowers and a Peggy. Panting, she looked up, halting in her race, as the floater descended. Peggy did not jump this time, as the bubble came down in an arc destined to be chomped, and chomp Peggy did. The taste was not totally unpleasant, but she had had her fill.

Turning, Peggy raced back to The Girl, and sat looking up at her, expectant for whatever next treat came her way.


I’ve done a number of the prompts that have been orchestrated by Bluebell Books: Short Story Slam. Check them out: there are a number of very interesting writers crafting their own take on the picture above. You’ll find poetry and prose; hope you enjoy it.


You only have until Monday, October 3rd, 2011, to sign up for The Rule of Three Writers Challenge. <–click for all info

This is a blogfest that I am co-hosting with three lovely ladies whose blogs are definitely worth searching out: Damyanti Biswas Daily (W)rite , Lisa Vooght Flash Fiction, and JC Martin, Fighter Writer.