She saved my life.

She found me laying naked at the woods behind her neighborhood. I was cold and feverish. My back was hurt. 2 big cuts near my shoulder blades.
I had no idea of who, where, when and why I was. My mind was completely blank.
They said it was amnesia and she took care of me. Like a guardian angel.

My memory never came back, but I learned to love her. And she loved me too.
We got married and were very happy. Then she got sick.

It was my turn now to care for her. I did all I could to make her feel better and comfortable at her illness. I gave my life to her. I stopped working, ate just a little, slept lightly so I could hear her calls. It was her turn to call me her guardian angel.

But after some time, her body gave in and she drifted away.
At that very moment I felt a sharp pain on my back, right at the scars near my shoulder blades. The scars opened up and from within something came up.
And with the wings, the memory of being sent from heaven to care for her on her illness that was already invisibly starting then.

I looked up and saw her spectral form, reaching her hands to me, calling me to go.
I fluttered my wings and off we went.
Together again, until my next call to earth.

This post was written based on the prompt Angels, from Writer Write’s October prompts.
‘Angels’ was actually the theme for October 1st, but today I decided to switch as I couldn’t come up with nothing worth writing for today’s theme: Rehab. I’ll keep trying and may publish it later (or not ;o)

The Fire Whisperer

No one knows how the fire started, and even how it stopped. Everything happened too fast.

The village was quiet that night. Not many people on the streets at that late hour. Except by Brandy Brady, the town’s official drunk. The bar had been closed for almost 2 hours, but Brady was still wandering around, talking to the wind, even on that still night.

Then the houses were suddenly set ablaze. First one, then the next, and the next, until the fire had spread throughout the entire village and all the houses became a huge pyre.

People were awekening amidst the flames and trying to escape their houses as not to be burnt alive. It was so fast that by the time the fire department was notified and came, all was finished and consumed by the fire.

No one saw him, except again Brady, but later no one would believe him.

He was sitting at a bench at the other side of the road that circled the village, looking at the fire in deep concentration. His lips moving slightly, as if he could speak with the fire and control it. The flames ran fast bringing everything down with them, turning all to ashes. When they reached the road, right in front of his bench, they went down. Immediately. As if someone had cut the gas on a gas stove.

He got up and walked away.

This post was written based on the prompt Fire, from Writer Write’s October prompts.


When I was a teenager, there were no cell phones. We had a landline at home. Just one. Our phone had wires. But not those long ones that you could bring to other rooms. So when in the phone we had to be either in the living room or at my parents bedroom.

At that time there were no computers and little devices with social media. The few computers we would see had old pre-windows systems, with no graphics and a very slow processing speed.

It wasn’t as easy to communicate, you’d say. But we did, and I guess we did well.

I’d be hours on the phone with my friends. Talking about any and everything. I knew them well and they knew me well, even if we didn’t get to know every step each other took, every restaurant we ate at, and how many electronic friends we had.

We were friends. Simply. And we talked. On a time when phones were for talking indeed.

Today I have a smart phone. Can’t live without it. I use it for facebook, instagram, pinterest, kindle, untappd, seesaw, classdojo, linkedin. I also make my grocery lists on it! And take pictures with it! I also chat very quickly and cryptically with people via whatsapp, messenger, skype.*

Oh! And I can also even talk to people!
When have been the last time I actually used my phone to talk to someone? Have a real conversation, talk about life’s problems and blessings, tell jokes, tease, flirt?….
hum… let me try to remember…….

This post was written based on the prompt Phones, from Writer Write’s October prompts.

I almost didn’t publish this one today.
To be honest I didn’t like it much. Mostly because it sounds like a statement, and I don’t necessarily agree with what it says.
Yes, there is some truth in it, but I guess the point is a bit exaggerated and fails to see the good things about the smart phones and new communication methods.

But… I didn’t want to skip today, and well, I had a piece written already… So why not make it public? ;o)

* all the brand names used here are trademarks of their respective owners.


As a kid, his favorite dish was fried chicken.
The crunchiness of the outside followed by the tender juicy meat on the inside.

Then he set up his mind that when he grew up he’d raise chicken just to be able to eat them everyday.

On his 15th birthday, he got his first chicken.
It was a gift from his grandaddy, who made him promise he would not eat that one.
He could eat her eggs if he liked (and he did like eggs!), but never her meat.
She’d have to live as long as she would last and then be buried in the backyard, next to the coop.

He made his promise and took the chicken home with him.

Three years later, after graduating from high school, he started his business. He bought himself a lots of chickens, build a coop and start raising them to eat and sell.

But the more he eat them, the more he wanted.

And that was what broke him. He stopped selling, so he would consume them all. But his hunger was insatiable, and he ate them faster than they were able to reproduce.

Eventually all was left was him, an almost empty coop and the aging first hen.

He made a promise to his granddaddy though.
So no, not her.
She was to die naturally and be buried.

Another month has passed and with no money and no other chickens, he started to starve. He still had some eggs from the hen, but they were not enough. He became feverish and delirious.

One night, he got up in the middle of the night, not completely awaken, but very determined on his goal. He left the house, went to the coop and took her. It was stronger than him. He worked all night in preparing her and, came morning, he had the best breakfast of his entire life.

It was also the last one.

Right after taking the last thread of the juicy meat, a wind blew around the house, bringing her feathers up. The feathers were swirling around the house, getting in and surrounding him. In his ecstasy he didn’t notice. Thought it was just a dream.
But the feathers kept coming. Much more than the ones he took out of his first pet hen. In all colors and shades and sizes and fluffiness. The feathers of all the chicken he killed and ate.

It was their turn now. They closed in, filling the entire house, spilling to the outside, until he was swallowed by them. Buried alive in a sea of feathers.

This post was written based on the prompt Feathers, from Writer Write’s October prompts.

A lost key

I was running late for a meeting and in the rush I dropped my key.
She saw me dropping it, grabbed it and came after me.

“Sir, sir, you lost your key.”

I couldn’t go on without my key, so in spite of the hurry I had to stop. And when I turned to grab my key and thank the lady, time stopped too. Everything did. All I could see was the personification of beauty and gentleness handing me my own key.

Then a car honked nearby waking me from that dreamy state, I grabbed the key shyly, said thank you and ran to the office. Just to found out the meeting had been cancelled.

She never left my thoughts that day and the days that followed.

About a week later I saw her again. I was almost running late again, but couldn’t care less, I just had to talk to her.

We met, we talked, we walked together around town, we laughed, we exchanged phone numbers, emails, instant messaging ids, we fell in love.

We joked that on that first encounter, the key she handed me was actually the key to her heart.

We were happy together.

For a few years….

Then, time passed, life happened and that warm feeling started to cool down.
For her, not really for me.
I was still warm by her side.

One day she sits me at the couch, in front of her, and announces she’s leaving. She still loves me, but not in the same way as before. Not be to my wife anymore. Maybe friends if I wanted her friendship.

I tear comes down my cheek, I can’t say anything. She turns and leaves.

I can’t find that key anymore… It is lost.

This post was written based on the prompt A lost key, from Writer Write’s October prompts.

To Do

My To Do list is incredibly strong and grows much faster than I’m able to get to it. It almost looks like it feeds on Miracle-Gro or something!

And you know what’s the problem with it?
The bigger it grows, the lazier I get.
I guess I feel overwhelmed just to look at it.

I’ve tried doing smaller daily lists, but since all those items need to be done anyways, my daily lists either get too big and unattainable, or I include only the most urgent and the old stuff I’ve been postponing for like forever just continues to get postponed…

And overwhelming feelings lead to anxiety.

So yes, I’m a real deal huge nasty procrastinator and a somewhat anxious person.

Is there cure?
Maybe I just need to start getting things done!!??
Yeah! That’s it! That’s the answer to all my problems!
Deal then. I’ll do it all!

But tomorrow…
Now, just to think of the size of my list I feel sooooo lazy and stressed out….

I guess I’ll grab a book and relax a bit. Maybe some tea, a bubble bath…

The list can wait until tomorrow, right?


Good bye then. 😉

Today I found some writing prompts at the site Writer Write, and decided to try them.

The list has 31 prompts, one for each day of the month.

I’m starting on the 6th, so I’ll follow the prompt for the 6th, but I may go back a few, if one day I decide to write more.

And today’s prompt it To Do.

I have written a piece on paper, but it was more like reflections than fiction. Here I tried to merge, and create fiction (??? really?) based on those reflections.

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Rodeo Contest

Today, Carrot Ranch website is starting a Flash Fiction Rodeo Contest.

For more details you can check their website at:

The Ranch

They’ll be having 8 contest, every Tuesday and Thursday, starting today and going until the end of the month.

I heard about it a couple weeks back and was planning to post my entries here, but because it’s a competition they advise not to publish until judging is finished.

So no post today with my entry for the first one. I’ll instead post in on the day the winner is announced. And for today’s contest that will be on November 7th. So stay tuned!

In case someone else there is interested in participating, here are the rules for the first one:

Flash Fiction Rodeo Contest #1

Good writing to us all!