Tag Archives: Fools

A to Z: The Complete Swan Rise Series


Open House: Trespassers Welcome

Swan Rise Apartments went out like an exploding lamb; it came in like a sleeping lion… but the building, and its inhabitants, did not always remain so. They lived lives that were hungry, playful, sleepy, lusty, fearful, agitated and on the prowl; they reared their young, and did what they needed to survive in this vertical village.

Welcome to… Swan Rise Apartments


…and so, the story unfolds. 26 interlocking stories set in the world of Swan Rise Apartments, all written for the A to Z Challenge that ran throughout April 2012.

You’ll find links to all the stories below; each one stands alone, but many have roots and connections in other chapters.  As a whole, it tells a story of the lives that swirl around apartment building life.

Each Sunday, I’ll re-post these links in case you missed any and for your ease in finding them.

The stories will remain up only for the month of May. As of June 1st, I will be taking all of the stories down from Tale Spinning so I can work on a larger second draft of the work. Some of the earlier pieces need fleshing out, and discoveries I made along the way need their roots dug deeply in the beginnings.

May 30th will be your last chance to read, and comment, on these stories. Hopefully, you’ll eventually hold an expanded version in your hands.

Comments are always welcome no matter when you read the story.

Week #1: A to G

All, Tumbling Down

Basement Boogie

Children in the Hall

Doggie Doings

Equivocation Elite


Ground, Breaking


Week #2: H to M

Holidays, Haunts and Hearts

Imaginings of Love

Jung, @Heart

Kindred Spheres

Laundry Room Mafia

Mrs. Beatty


Week #3: N to S

Not What They Seem

One Man’s Ceiling…

Pollination in the Parking Lot

Quack, Quack

Retraction of Gravity

Super, My Super


Week #4: T to Z

Thieving Ways

Underneath It All

Vertically Challenged

Weather Man, Oh


Yeah…Life Goes On…

Zenith: Arising

The Holiday People


They come out of nowhere

The Holiday People

In their big bulky sweaters

And Big Bulky Coats

Carrying Big Bulky Packages

And Big Bulky Totes.

They shove on by, they squeeze where no squeezing can be

They find their ways into places you’d rather not see

The Holiday People connect in an off putting sway

The Holiday People just get in your way

They take up seats that are normally free

They clog up the doors and aisle ways on shopping sprees

Nothing’s much needed, Nothing’s much given

They buy, they glutton, and few are shriven

But one month a year, they think all is forgiven

The Holiday People are coming your way

Then, like a winter storm, that creeps up fast

The Holiday People are gone with a blast

The Holiday People came out of nowhere



My Life On The Amazon!


“Creativity is inventing, experimenting, growing, taking risks, breaking rules, making mistakes, and having fun.” — Mary Lou Cook


My very first solo eStory on Amazon

My first solo eStory!!

Flash Over is only the first (hopefully) of my ePublications. I hinted at this before, and now it’s the start of the reality.

Thanks to the fine people at Trestle Press I now have an eStory published that is not part of an anthology. It’s 4,000 words long, and it costs just $ .99. I get 70% of that, so…yeah, the more the merrier. Won’t you make me merry? 😉

Product Description: Seth had been devoured by fire. What does a man do when the life of flame becomes as real as his waking life? When the sound of fire is the beat of his blood through his body? When what he sees he lives?

You can find it at Amazon: Flash Over

I have two more stories published, both in charity anthologies, supporting Doctors Without Borders through Ethics Trading (two great ladies: Thank You Sarah & Catrina). You can find them on my brand new Amazon Authors Page. Two volumes, both $3.99, and both support a worthy cause. Please give them a try.

After Dark has my paranormal luv tale of two Trolls and the Ferryperson who tries to come between them. Tongue in cheek fun, with some punnery from me.

Seven other authors make out this wonderful volume of paranormal fun.

Only $3.99; proceeds go to Doctors Without Borders!!!

Dawn of Indie Romance was the first anthology I have a story in. Redhead Riding is, yes, a romance, from ME. That might surprise those who enjoy my creepy stuff.

Again, seven other writers lead to a great book.

As above, Only $3.99; proceeds go to Doctors Without Borders!!!

More to come as I journey down the Amazon.

Sonnet: Shut The F**K Up


What do you do when you just talk, talk, talk

All In the end you  have nothing to say!

You spout such nonsense; Just so you can squawk

Don’t you know your mouth just gets in the way?

There is no dialogue; You’re right-I’m wrong.

Your superiority complex reeks

You come off weak instead of being strong

It is not true discourse that you so seek!

But, imagine if your voice spoke so true

And your hearing was equal to the task

Disagreement is not how to argue

For new Points of View, you just have to ask.

Talking just to prove you’re right is so wrong

Done this way, we will never get along.

First Regret…Final Passion (part two)


PLEASE read this first First Regret…Final Passion (part one)

The first time I had been in jail had been murder. Literally. The cops I had pissed off during that investigation did their best to piss me off. When the actual murderer left a trail that led to me, they were more than happy to drag me into the station and charge me for the murder of my mother.

It looked bad for awhile, and I didn’t make friends easy inside. Far from it. Eventually, things came to light, the bastard tripped himself up, and I was eventually released. Not before having some severe Not Fun times. I still sport a few shiv scars from not wanting to be anyone’s girl friend.

Thanks, Dad. I still owe you for that.

The second time I went to jail was my own damn fault. Detective Galloway never let up on me, even though I was 100% cleared. I had gotten in his face too much, and this was The King of Grudges, with a badge. No matter where I was on the social scene, and the money Mom left me saw that I could still be around, the Grudge Lord would haul me in for questioning whenever anything wonky went down. Theft, cat fights, something missing, someone’s spouse gone missing…bam! Knock, Knock, Police…we have some questions for you.

When he tried to haul me in out of the blue when I was on a perfectly great date, I had had enough.  I did my own hauling off and punched him right between the eyes. I was sick and tired of his harassment. I was tired of his abuse of power, his screaming shit at me,  his red face stressed to eating wires. Then…he spit on me.


Who knew he was a wuss? Down he went, out cold…and right into the path of an oncoming car. His partner Dmitri got to him   before anything real serious could happen. Galloway had hit his head on my car bumper on the way down, so between the pop in the face and the blood above his eyes, well…Me? I just stood there, in shock more than anything else. The feral grin (yep, I felt feral at that moment) sent Dmitri over the top. Next thing I knew I was thrown against my Mercedes, my hands were  behind my back being bitingly cuffed, Lisa (my great date) was screaming her head off, and I broke a heel off my new pump.

“Daddy’s Little Girl At It Again” went the headline of one of the local rags. The TV stations went with it big time. My lawyer plead my case: big bad cop, poor little ol’ me, the injustice, strain, PMS (I almost hit him between the eyes AND kicked him between the legs for that one), my dead mother GOD REST HER SOUL, the LGBT tried to “help” ::coughAgendacough::: that this was a hate thing on his part (he just didn’t like me, even before he knew)…and I still served two months in jail and then a year of community service.

If I hadn’t already been on Galloway and Dmitri’s shit list, I was Number One with a bullet now. He had to kinda stay away from me, which was one of the only good things that came out of it all (well, that and him going down like he did), but that did not mean his buds had to. Nor Dmitri.

Now they had even more reason to come get me. The jerk that Angie..dammit…Jane and her-whatever-he-was-to-her killed was big money that fed into police causes. Of course he was. The wife knew my name.  My prints and blood were all over the scene of the crime, and I had fled said scene. Guilty Guilty Guilty. I knew there was no way out of this one, unless I found Angie/Jane and her partner, and handed them over with impunity for me, dead to rights for them.

Angie. You’re beautiful, but it was not time to say goodbye just yet. Things just went up in smoke, and there ain’t no loving in your soul. I’m going to find you, kick your ass, and then show you were all this is going to lead you. Mick and Keith, if only you knew.

Poll: Vote For Fave Stories *Updated


Hello and Welcome:

I have been writing almost daily (well, I have been, but not always posting on Tale Spinning) and the responses to continue certain story lines was intense. If you have not visited here before, I created a poll to see which stories have resonated most with my readers. The links to the stories are below the poll, so if you are just discovering my work, you have a one stop page to check them out. Please take a look and post if you have any favorites you’d like to see me continue. You also can vote for up to THREE of the tales.

Yes, I have been writing since, and those will be on another poll, at a later time.


Work In Progress (No Title),               Look at…/Epigamic,                  Thou Premonished…,

The Spenetic Tango                             Bushwhacked

Little Animal,                                        Night Abduction                       Beware of Falling Cows

Redhead Story                                       Birdsong: The Walkabout Man

Beware of Falling Cows


Scientists tell us that the fastest animal on earth, with a top speed of 120 ft/sec, is a cow that has been dropped out of a helicopter.” ~Dave Barry~

“I don’t think we ought to do this, Edgar,” Charlie said, concerned for the safety of the Butterlips, the cow.

“Charlie, we been over this time and again. The doc pays us good money to do what he wants. Besides, it’s just another cow. Why is this one so different?” Edgar leaned against Butterlips side, panting.

Charlie motioned for Edgar to move over near him, away from the cow. He hoarsely whispered: “I think this one knows. I think Butterlips know what we plans. Lookit her eyes, Edgar. Look. Those are knowing eyes.”

Sneering, Edgar cuffed Charlie on the  side of his head. “Moron, no cow has any more intelligence then grazing and poopin’, ” he said, even though, real stealthily, he went around to look in the cow’s eyes. He stood there for a good while.

Edgar tilted his head down and to the left. Butterlips mirrored him. He squatted down, and Butterlips followed suit. No matter which way he looked: up, down, squinty-eyed, cross-eyed, Butterlips matched him look for look. Pursing his lips and scratching his head, shaking, Butterlips commenced to do the same. Well, not the scratching her head, but she swished her tail around like she was scratching her hind quarters.

“Charlie, c’mere,” he said, even though Charlie was standing right beside him, having advanced when he witnessed what he saw. The two of them were amazed and frightened by the intelligent gleam pouring out of Butterlips’ gaze. If either of them knew what transfixed meant, or could spell it, they’d know that was what was happening to them.

A fart sounded from behind Butterlips. “Sorry boys, but that last batch of hay you fed me was still a bit green. Oops,” she said, “sorry again.”

Charlie felt faint, but Edgar got stubborn. “I don’t care if she talks or dances a fandango, she’s..”

“How does going to the movies make a cow dance, Edgar?”

Edgar and Butterlips both sighed. They looked at each other and shook their heads in unison.

“I’m sorry, actually sorry, Butterlips, but intelligent talking cow or not, we have a job to do. You’re harnessed up, and we are approaching the drop zone. Doc Garnerin spent a lot of time and money…”

“And cows. He’s dropped a lot of cows,” Charlie cut in.

“Will you pipe down. Anyways, we’re almost there. He’s got money, and time, invested in this. Not only is he trying to be the first one to invent the Hassle Free Open Chute (silly name, if you ask me)-“Look Ma, no hands!” is the tag line he thinks is funny-but he also has money down as a bet that you’ll be the first cow to pond swoop. Hell, I have money on that one. Down you are going, missy. Charlie, open the ‘copter door.”

Charlie unlocked and slid the door open. The countdown lights began to flash, and the two of them pushed Butterlips as best they could towards the door.

She held her ground as best she could. “Boy, you don’t have to do this. We can work something out. Milk. Fresh milk for life. Whenever you..ugh..stop that..want it! BOYS!! STOP!!”

The green light was flashing. Edgar yelled to the pilot: “Yo, Greg, tilt this sucker! We got a stubborn one.”

Greg was bored, and feeling sick and tired of this whole thing. 27 cows up, 26 splattered on the ground. Four cars, the side of a silo, and a lot of trees got splattered too. This was his last trip, money or no. He heard Edgar yell again, with a few choice words that set his teeth on edge. “Oh yeah,” Greg thought, as he began a complete insane barrel roll. In a helicopter.

The Eurocopter got very light, very fast. Too fast, and Greg lost control and the motor cut out. He went down pretty fast, passing Butterlips, Edgar and Charlie. He gave them the finger as he passed by.

The three of them were in free-fall. Edgar and Charlie, without chutes, tried to reach Butterlips, hoping to catch a ride with her (if it worked).

It did, but her acceleration into terminal velocity was faster, and she shot past them. Then her parachute opened up by itself, sending her up again as it deployed and caught the updraft. Edgar and Charlie generated forward turns, backward motion, and even caught for a few seconds an air pocket that gave them lift. All to no avail.  Butterlips began her descent gracefully, while Edgar and Charlie took out a motor home that was passing by.

The driver and his wife, Bernie and Marge, were ok, if you were wondering. They did receive a healthy insurance check after a fairly long wait. The argument over if they were covered for falling men was in dispute.

As for Butterlips, she did not chow. She skimmed the pond water with accurate precision, crested the shore gently, and got a perfect score. The harness automatically unfastened itself, which made Doc Garnerin even more pleased. The small crowd cheered, photos were taken, Butterlips got sweet dew kissed fresh cut grass, and the event made the evening news.

Tale Spinning the A to Z Challenge


The A to Z Blog Challenge: Using the 26 letters of the alphabet, the challenge was to post something every day for the month of April, except for the Sundays. I am proud to say that I DID it…well, just about.

I DID write all A-Z posts in April, but a few days I switched the day off or wrote two in one day to catch up. Not often, but still: 26 story blogs in one month (and that’s not counting the 3o blogs I wrote on my other blog, BornStoryteller, for the Ultimate Blog Challenge). I’m pretty proud of myself for this feat, as well as for the connections I made with other bloggers.

There have been a number of amazing people who have read my ongoing story here, and the feedback I get from them has been humbling and inspiring. I’m more afraid of forgetting someone and making someone feel I don’t value their input and support, so I’m going to wuss out and just say THANK YOU to all who read Tale Spinning, have commented, and those who read and lurk only. It means a lot to me.

HUGE mega thanks to the people who created and ran this challenge:

Arlee Bird’s Tossing It Out
Jeffrey Beesler’s World of the Scribe
Alex J. Cavanaugh Alex J. Cavanaugh
Jen Daiker’s Unedited
Candace Ganger’s The Misadventures in Candyland
Karen J Gowen at Coming Down the Mountain
Talli Roland
Stephen Tremp’s Breakthrough Blogs

Let’s do this again. It was fun!

W(onderment): A to Z Challenge


To read the whole story thus far…

Part 21: Wonderment

The blathering in the front of the car crawled to a halt as Ms. Hemple sped on. Daniel, still holding the dead rodent in his blood caked lap and hands, just stared at him. “Good. He is finally focused.” Winston thought. “He needs to stay that way.”

Why had he bothered to explain anything to these cretins? The anticipation, the moments ticking away in such a dull way, surrounded by these..these.. Winston realized  he let them get the better of him. He just stared back, his constant smile again in place, and his hand throbbed a bit from the bites. It was not enough to cause him to lose his concentration again.

What would he say to them that they would understand, that they would not judge as drivel? That The Clock of the Long Ago Now is the epitome of cosmic precision? That his research did lead him to the truth: that aliens do exist, that the Celestial Zafeiropoulou have been here, have guided us and thwarted us, and that humans in secret conclaves know of this and support them? That the Zafeiropoulou are as close to time incarnate as one can get, that they are the personification of precision timing on a cosmic scale? That they really rule us all? They would laugh and ridicule him if he was not holding the gun.

He knew that this treasure is his way to ascend to a state of time bliss and to join them. If the Ratiocination Labyrinth is breached, the Clock will give him everything he’s wanted. His dream, forever along the time line of the universe, always perfect, always constant and precise. His dream, and he is putting all of it on a world class dreamer of a dolt.

Winston stared at Daniel through the corner of his left eye, while keeping the rest of his attention looking for that other rodent. He heard ZsaZsa making soothing and shushing sounds to the damned thing. “Just wait. All of you,” he threatened inside his head.

Looking at Daniel, he wondered, and in wondering, began to doubt,  if this head-in-the-clouds intelligent fool would really be the one to break through all the logic barriers the Zafeiropoulou put in to guard the Ratiocination Labyrinth and what it hides.

Forget the other incredible weapons and baubles that are supposedly to be found inside: Dropa Stones, Ica Crystals, The Cosovisto Artifact, the  Siribhoovalaya translation (numbers, in precise mathematical order, describing the universe), and so much more. Forget them. Daniel need to get me the clock. The clock is all that mattered.

He’d have to go through the sections, one by one: the Limbus Come; The Lewd Ones; the Tanuki; the desires of Kamadeva; the Emoticon Curtain; the Minim Five; the Numbing Nukekubi;  the Proposition of Mudd; and finally…he came across a blank wall on this one. There was one more section to pass, one last hurdle. There was no information on it. No clues. Nothing.

Winston settled into his thoughts, running through everything he knew about each sections passage to be gained. He needed an illogical thinker to make this work. He read all the secret supposedly destroyed and erased files on all the “intelligent” ones who tried to get through. All the ones who failed, and they all had. Only their companions survived, one at a time, and bit by bit Winston put all the information together. They had all approached this from the wrong angle, and all made the same mistake, time and time again. Linear thinkers, one and all.

Daniel was his key to success.

And…once he had the Clock….

Winston in real time smiled a little broader. Daniel clutched the body in his lap a little harder. Jennifer Rose stepped on the gas, making the care to a little bit faster, which caused Elora to flinch against the seat and made her back hurt and she gasped a little bit louder, and ZsaZsa soothed the squirrel a little bit needier…

The squirrel? He got a whole lot more angrier.

V(ersecular): A to Z Challenge


To read the whole story thus far…

Part 20: Versecular

Above, the starry night
The car of screams did penetrate it’s shine;
Alone along the barren road, no travelers did they see.
“He’s dead, he’s dead!” she keened and wailed,
Over his small broken body, his blooded tail.

The copper tinted smell in the air inside the cabin, closed,
took o’er the senses,some shut down.
Daniel, in red drenched lap, wonder looked
To see the patterns forming there, the stiffness
settling in. He saw the horseman braying ‘Come’
Wondering if this was for he as well.

“Oh, what have you done? What have you done?
All for the sake of Time and the unknown?
So many other ways, so many chance to take,
And this is the road we’ve traveled on?”

Winston stared, and tried to erase the unpleasant noise
That filtered from around
He worshiped not this, but silence, no sound.
The cacophony of decibels, the sone bursting through
He drew his weapon upon them all
“Shut up!” he bellowed, “Go to hell!”
The whimpering subsided, but the tears inside die not
One thought went through the others, alive,
And if Winston had an ounce of empathy,
One shred of deeper understanding beyond his miscast precision,
He’d quiver and sink so much lower then he had
With the unswerving blows upon his head
They all felt he deserved…and more.

“Let us bury him” they cried as one.
“No.” he said, as he lifted his leg to adjust.
“Let us bury him” they wailed this time.
“No.” was all he said, with his gun raised
And his constant smile so strained
“We must go on, and waste no more time
On such foolishness again.
If you don’t watch that other beast
That bit me and tried to gouge me
I WILL show it the same, you’ll see
Then who will be next, do you think?”
Sitting back, he said no more.

Jennifer Rose, gas pedaling hit the floor
And like a streak of light the car
Continued on it’s path through
Underneath the starry starry stars.

To the one left
Quivering in his charge’s bosom,
Came a vision, it did appear
Inside this woman’s brassiere
“Calloo, Callay, you’re here to stay?”
He asked of his old compadre
But, alas, he shook his head
And his tail did sag and droop
For Jack came back to give him the poop:

“I’ve been to a wondrous place, old Bob,
And seen our cousin, George
Of Nut-Haven, he is one, and so too I am bound.
Bob shared a tear
“Tut Tut, none of that.
I am happy as I can be.
I did what I could for our lady charge.
Now it is up to thee.”

“What the heck? Did dying make you a poet?
It’s me, Jack, ME” he said,
As a tear ran down a breast.

“Watch over her, and in your time
You will know what you must do.
Try to be stalwart and true
and Nut-Haven will also be for you.”
With that old Jack did swim away
O’er a lake of cashews and cream
And fading fast from his sight
Old Bob thought it was a..

“Nah..I’m just sad. Damn that man.
I aim to take out one of his eyes for this!”

And so a plan was set!