Rebecca M. Douglass, Author

This is a flashback flash fiction piece from 2016, a bit of (maybe) harmless Halloween fun...   Witching Weather   “Fog’s rising.” Jack made the observation in a detached sort of way, not sure if it mattered.   “More fun that way,” Jill answered. If he was unsure about the weather, she was not. She straightened the tall, pointed hat that kept threatening to tumble from her head. “It sets the right sort of mood.”   The boy and girl grinned at each other. Both wore sweeping black robes, rather in the fashion of the students of Hogwarts. A close observer might have even thought they had come from the costume shop, but with the fog settling in and the daylight gone, no one could be sure. Jack wore a silver circlet around his forehead, while Jill sported the afore-mentioned pointed hat.   “At least half the kids will be spooked before we even begin,” Jill said, eyes aglow with excitement.   Jack nodded, seeing her point. “A...

While I'm away, I'm running some flash fiction from years gone by. This story from 2013 came from one of the prompts Chuck Wendig used to run weekly on his blog, Terribleminds.com (I believe it was a random selection of a psychic power). It seems a good choice of story as we approach Halloween, being one of my few ventures into horror (ish) that doesn't turn comic. It's a little long at 1090 words, though I tightened it up a bit. The Choker   I was with Brian when it began. I knew something had happened, but when he said nothing, I let it slide. That was my first and biggest mistake, but we who have these powers are slow to speak of them, and with reason.   Brian had taken me with him to shop for a birthday present for his wife. She liked old jewelry—not necessarily antiques, but old. Brian had seen a shop he thought looked promising. You know the kind: half junk store, half antique shop, where a few good bits may be mixed in with a ton of tra...

iction in 50 is a regular feature in the last week of every month and I invite any interested composers of mini-narrative to join in!      What is #Fi50? In the words of founder Bruce Gargoyle, "Fiction in 50: think of it as the anti-NaNoWriMo experience!" Pack a beginning, middle and end of story into 50 words or less (bonus points for hitting exactly 50 words). The rules for participation are simple : 1. Create a piece of fictional writing in 50 words or less, ideally using the prompt as title or theme or inspiration. That’s it!  But for those who wish to challenge themselves further, here’s an additional rule: 2. Post your piece of flash fiction on your blog or (for those poor blog-less souls) add it as a comment on the Ninja Librarian’s post for everyone to enjoy.  And for those thrill-seekers who really like to go the extra mile (ie: perfectionists): 3. Add the nifty little picture above to your post (credit for which goes entirely to idefl...

What with pounding away on my NaNo novel and finalizing the formatting and all for The Problem With Peggy (see below), there really was no time this week for a new story. So I dug into the archives, and as a way to get warmed up for Thanksgiving feasting (for my US readers!), I bring you again, The Tomb of the Strange Feast Mom never was a good cook, but that night she really outdid herself.  Her smile when she brought in dinner didn't convince even Lily, and she's only five. "Brussels sprout-tofu casserole, with non-fat cheese," Mom announced, all bright and enthusiastic, the way grown-ups sound when they are trying to convince kids of the wonderfulness of something they really don't like it.  Totally fake.  Mom could pretend, but we all knew she didn't like the food she made any more than we did.  She didn't even put crumbled potato chips on top of the stuff, the way Nana does, which at least means there's some part of her “hot dishes” a kid can eat...

I'm beginning to conclude I work best under pressure. Every week I read Chuck Wendig's writing prompt , and think I'll jump right on that, have the story written by Monday, and for once have time to post it early. And every week I realize Thursday morning that I've not quite finished a draft (if I've even begun it), and every Thursday evening I end up editing the story at 9 or 10 p.m., barely making my deadline. This week is no exception. We were to start with a knock at the door. Here's the result, another bit of fun for JJ MacGregor of the Pismawallops PTA as she sits working upon a midnight dreary. I ran a few words over my 1000. Knock, Knock Rap-a-rap-a-rap! Thump! I practically crawled out of my skin when the knock—more like a pounding—sounded on my door. I was working late, trying to finish a short story, and the house was both empty and dark, aside from the light over my desk. Brian was at Justin’s house for the night so I was alone. It wouldn’t have been...