On Purrfect Storm: Free Today!

For those of you not in the know, my novelette, Purrfect Storm is available on Amazon today for FREE!

That's right, I said free.

How cool is that?

Pretty cool, right?

I thought so.

What could be better than a free story on the day taxes would normally be due?

Here's a helpful link to get you to where you need to be.

What are you waiting for? This offer ends at midnight PST.

Yikes, now I feel like car salesman.

I'm A Free Digital Download!

On Purrfect Storm's Publication

It's official.

Purrfect Storm is available in Kindle format on Amazon. It will be available in other formats around the end of June, but I'll let everyone know when the time is closer.

This was a relatively short road from inception to publication, but at the same time it feels like it was a long time coming. In all honesty, I loved every minute-- okay, maybe not the proofing and editing, but even that has made me happier and stronger.

I'm so glad I've taken this next step in my writing career, and I hope everyone enjoys the short story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Available on Amazon

RS

On Flash Fiction Friday: Karma's A Bitch, A Short

Karma's A Bitch: A Short

His name was Ken, and he was a prick. He knew this, and took great pride in proving it to everyone he met. In a few select cases, he'd pay extra attention to a person, and shower them with his personal brand of back handed compliments, superiority, and special training sessions guaranteed to accent their flaws and place him in the best light possible. He made sure those in his command never questioned that he was the best of the best of the BEST, and they'd never amount to more than the dirt he scraped off his boots.

What he didn't realize, was he wasn't the only person intent on screwing up the plans of other people, but he was about to get firsthand knowledge on the way it felt to have his dreams crushed.

In a very real, and permanent way.

Karma gazed into the mystical Pool of Choice and smiled. Today was going to be a good day.  

***

The sun was bright, and the sky was the clear blue it always was in the desert of some unremarkable third-world country. The temperature hovered in the mid-eighties, and there was a soft, cool breeze that hinted at the changing season. 

Karma leaned against the armored humvee, aviator glasses firmly in place, shading her eyes from the harsh rays. Her long black hair was tied back in an intricate braid and hung over her shoulder.  She remained where she was, booted foot resting against the wheel of the vehicle, when the man of the hour approached her.

"Get away from there. Who let you in here? Whoever it was, I'm going to have their rank."

"Now, Ken. Is that anyway to talk to a person with more power than you?"

His footsteps faltered.  "Who are you?"

She smiled. "Why, I'm Karma. Perhaps you've heard of me? They say I'm a real bitch."

His jaw clenched and a muscle twitched near his eye. "What the Hell are you talking about?"

She shrugged her shoulder and casually walked toward him. "You'll see," she said, patting his shoulder as she walked by. "You might want to beg for forgiveness, if you believe in that kind of thing."

The man cursed behind her, but she kept walking. She didn't turn when men in full riot gear surrounded him, weapons drawn.  As payment for everything he put out in the world Homeland Security destroyed his career, his life, and his dreams.

***

© R.S. Emeline 2011 All Rights Reserved. 

  

On the Conclusion to the Cabin: A Short

In order to truly understand and appreciate this story you need to read this post first.

Now for the dramatic conclusion to K.K. Sierra's short, the Cabin.

Written, by, yours truly.

The Cabin II: A Short 

The assassin watched from the shadow of the woods, breath steady, body lying prone in the cold, white snow.  The woman had stepped inside moments earlier, and the assassin waited patiently for her inevitable exit.

It wouldn't take long. The man she was married to was snuggled up inside with one of her male cousins and two girls young enough to have watched and enjoyed that annoying show with the dancing creatures that spoke gibberish at each other.  

A patch of orange light illuminated the darkness as the door opened and the woman stepped onto the slick wooden porch. The assassin heard enough of the woman's words to understand the position she'd found her husband in.

A smile curved lips too often serious.  The woman wouldn't have to worry long, the assassin thought.

"Babe, wait. " A man, her husband, the assassin knew, ran out behind her. "It's not what it looked like. I can explain."

"Actions speak louder than any words you'll ever say."

"But, honey, you know I love you."

"No. What I do know is first thing tomorrow morning I'm going to my attorney's office. We're over."

"You don't mean that. Think of the children."

The woman laughed, and the sound traveled over the silent yard to the assassin.

"Funny thing, I am thinking of the children. One of us has to."

"I always--" the man's words were cut off, and his eyes widened in shock as a perfectly round hole appeared in his forehead.

The woman screamed, maybe in fear, possibly in shock, but the assassin preferred to think the scream was one of relief. Relief that she'd been spared--not that she'd ever had to worry, or relief that her nightmare marriage was truly and finally over.

When the authorities arrived the assassin was long gone, and there was no sign that a presence had been lying in wait in the woods outside the cabin.

If the woman knew who'd pulled the trigger, she never let on, but she did send her best friend a bottle of her favorite wine with a note attached that simply read, I heart you.

On Flash Friday: She Was Loved

It's "Flash" Friday.

She Was Loved

Her laugh broke the silence two breaths before she burst through the French doors of my studio. I placed the oil pastels out of her reach, and cleared my mind of anything but the spritely little girl vibrating with excitement in front of me.

"Daddy! Daddy! Guess what?" Her blue eyes, so much like her mother's, sparkled from beneath impossibly long golden lashes.

"You just won the lottery and are going to take care of me for the rest of my life?" I asked, tugging on one unruly flaxen curl that had escaped its pigtail.

She giggled again. "No, Daddy. You're silly. I don't even know what the lottery is."

I tapped one forefinger on the cleft of my chin. "Okay, you didn't win the lottery. That means you must have gotten your driver's license."

"No, Daddy!" Her giggle warmed my heart and filled the places so often empty.

I threw up my hands in mock frustration. "I don't know then. What?"

"I saw Momma."

My heart shattered like crystal against stone. "Sweetheart--"

"Don't worry, Daddy. I know she's an Angel watching over us." My little girl, a miniature version of my late wife, wrapped her arms around my legs and squeezed. "She's very beautiful, Daddy, and she wanted me to tell you it didn't hurt, and she loves us very much."

Words wouldn't form so I squatted down, wrapped my arms around what was left of my heart and pulled her against my chest. I missed my wife every day, and cursed the drunk driver who'd taken her from us, but because of the little girl in my arms, she'd never truly be gone.

Maybe she was an Angel. 

Maybe just a memory.

All I knew was, she was loved.

    

©Copyright R.S. Emeline 2011 All Rights Reserved.

On Flash Fiction Friday: Happily Ever After

Happily Ever After

There was a time when I believed love would save me.  When the man in front of me was my 'it'. I thought we were the lucky ones. The ones who'd found true love.

Too bad my Prince Charming was absent from fairytale class the day they covered 'happily ever after'.

"Honey. Babe, I can explain." The man who'd promised to love, honor, and cherish me tried to scoot away, but my foot resting on his prized possession made it difficult.

"No, Babe. You don't need to explain. In fact, the only thing you need to do is sign the divorce papers. I forgave your first indiscretion. Against my better judgment I forgave your second too. Looks like third time's a charm--or is it three strikes and you're out?"

"Come on, Babe. You don't really mean that. It won't happen again, I swear!" His voice rose an octave on the last word when I shifted the spike heel of my new shiny black leather boots.

"You're right, Jason. It won't happen again. Sign the papers, and I might just let you keep your friends."

His throat worked furiously, and I smiled.

"Alright. Alright. I'll do it... just get that torture device away from me!"

I ignored his demand to remove my foot and handed him the pen and papers. When his signature was affixed to each page I stepped away.

A smile tugged at my lips. It was time my story had a better ending.

"What happens now?" he asked eying me wearily.

 "What happens at the end of all fairytales," I said as I walked to the door. "She lived happily ever after."




Copyright: R.S. Emeline 2011 All Rights Reserved