January 31, 2017

So. Here we are, like five months on from my so-called brief hiatus. Oy, right?

I was holding out, hoping for some material to post along with a new status update. For a host of reasons, that material hasn’t…well, materialized. Ha. I keep trying and throwing stuff out. Even my attempts at flash fiction are pretty putrid.

My creativity has been basically eliminated due to stress and exhaustion. I made the ridiculously stupid choice to continue working a second job after the summer was over, in addition to my regular sub job and the five classes. This January, that kind of snowballed into the worst week in recent history. My mother was diagnosed with pneumonia, so I had the responsibility of taking on her fifth grade class for six days, plus grad classes, and my other job. And babysitting. And studying for my Praxis Core exam. So I didn’t get home until after 8 every night–just ugh.

Anyway. That’s over. I survived. I also passed my Praxis Math test, which was a huge hurdle to overcome. I am hoping that my stress will get under control, and I’ll feel more into writing.

As always, I’m here. I’m trying. I’ll be back. I’m sure the muse will show up if I just keep hacking at it.

December 25, 2016

One of the reasons I haven’t checked in is I hate adding new posts and bothering you guys without giving you new material, but I also don’t like a ton of time to pass without giving some sort of notice I’m still alive and in this.

At the beginning of November, I had hoped that I would be able to participate in NaNoWriMo and get some of Bittersweet done. That just…never materialized. I managed straight A’s this semester, but I also gave myself a brand-new stress condition — hives.  Between papers, work, and itching myself into oblivion, I’ve just been worn out. Even the last week, with school over, the run up to the holidays was crazy. I’m the only single non parent in my family, so the extra errands fall to me.

However–and I know I’ve said this before–but next semester is looking up. I’m only taking three classes, and my tuition is less due to that fact, which means my refund will go a lot further. I’m actually going to be in the position to pay off my credit cards for the first time since I got my first card at the age of 20. Plus, I was offered a better position with better pay at the school where I work. If everything goes the way it should, it will be the first time in nearly three years that I’ll feel okay. And not so stressed about money and my job situation. A lot of my creative energy has been sapped, particularly over the last year and half due to stress.

I had hoped I would be able to pull together a short Christmas story for you guys, but I wasn’t able to find the time. That being said, I am still hopeful one of the two short stories I’m working on will be ready by New Year’s Day, which still makes it okay for a holiday story 😛 And by that time, I should have a good handle on how the time away from work and school is recharging my brain.

Still here. Just tired. 😛

November 2, 2016

It was never my intention to disappear after my last post, I promise. I wanted to continue with flash fiction and whatnot, but well…things never go to plan for me. You guys know my health has been crap the last two years and graduate classes have been crazy this semester. I’ve got a full course load, and one of those classes is a major 45 page research paper, 25 pages of which is due next Thursday. And now I’ve been stuck with an allergic reaction that my doctor is like shrugging me about the cause.

I am working Bittersweet for NaNoWriMo, and if this next week goes as well as I hope it does, I should be back on track to get back to flash fictions.

I’m still here. I just need real life to settle its ass down. Next semester is looking up: I’m not taking online classes, so there’s going to be extra money so I don’t need to pick up so many extra hours at my second job. I’m also only taking three classes with no big major research projects. I really really hope I can get my schedule back on track.

I love you guys and missing posting so much!

This entry is part 5 of 8 in the Flash Fiction: 60 Minutes or Less

The cottage was smaller than he had expected, a small stone structure separated from the road by a stone fence. Outside the house, in front of some greenery, a woman was kneeling, her hands buried in the dirt.

Jason stepped up to the gate, and hesitated before calling out. “Mrs. Morgan?”

The woman turned, chestnut hair slipping from its pins. She frowned at him for a moment, her eyes shadowed as she must have taken in the stiff redcoat he wore. She rose to her feet.

“Yes?”

He reached into his satchel and drew out a stack of letters. “I believe these belong to you.”

She stepped towards him then, her face ashen. “What are those?” she managed. “Who…who are you?”

“Captain Jason Morgan,” he told her after a long moment. “You’ve…the letters you’ve been sending…”

“Oh.” Her eyes met his, and for a moment—he thought she would crumple to the ground. She swayed, but then she swallowed hard. “You…have my letters.”

“Yes.”

“And you….” Her voice broke. “And you read them?”

“I—” And he faltered, because he had no excuse for reading them. After the first letter, when he had opened it to discover a woman writing to someone who was not him—he should have put them down. Written her back. Stopped them.

“I read that first letter,” he said finally. “And I thought it might…you had already told people…you were writing the letters to…” He dipped his head for a moment. “I thought telling you might create more problems than you needed.”

“Oh.” She didn’t reach for the stack of letters. “You read them all.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She looked at him.

“Because I thought…” That someone should be listening to her. Not planning her life. “I’m sorry. I—”

“So for…five years, you read every letter I sent to you.”

“Yes.”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “So you know.”

“I do.”

“My father thought…he wanted me to write for a while, and then…” Her throat squeezed.

“And then have me killed in battle so you could get married as a respectable widow,” Jason answered. He swallowed his next question—he had wanted to ask why she wouldn’t do it. Even with the war over, with Napoleon safely in exile and soldiers streaming home, she still hadn’t. “I wanted to return these to you on my way home.”

Elizabeth blinked then, the color draining from her cheeks again. “Did you—did you go into the town? Did anyone see you? Did you give your name—”

“No. I wouldn’t—”

But the door to the cottage opened then, and a small boy came out, his cheeks flushed and eyes bleary from sleep. “Mama?”

“Cameron.” Elizabeth turned to him.

Cameron, the son Elizabeth had protected all these years. She had written of him, and Jason had waited for those letters. After particularly bad battles—after watching men he served with and befriended mercilessly killed—he had read about Cameron, the little boy who thought his father was a brave soldier rather than…

“Who’s that?” Cameron yawned and focused on Jason. His eyes widened. “Is that….is that Papa?”

“What?” Elizabeth shook her head. “Cameron—”

“It is!” Cameron ran towards him, and Jason—without thinking—caught the ball of energy as the child flew at him. The letters scattered to the ground, with one left in Jason’s arms. Cameron plucked it from his grasp. “’Tis Mama’s writing,” he said, happily. “Papa!”

“Cameron, I must explain,” Elizabeth said, voice thin and uneasy.

If they had had another few moments of privacy—Jason was sure they would have found a way out from under the misunderstanding—perhaps he would be someone who had served with the boy’s father, bringing news of his demise personally.

But they were interrupted by an approaching cart, driven by an older couple. The man, his gray hair peeking out from under his cap, peered suspiciously at the scene. “Whoa,” he murmured to his horse. “Mrs. Morgan, everything all right?”

“Papa’s home!” Cameron crowed. “My papa has returned!”

“Oh!” The woman stepped down from the cart, her blue eyes wide with delight. “Oh, at least, my dear Elizabeth.” She sighed with happiness. “I was beginning to despair that you might ever return, wasn’t I, Mr. Spencer?”

“Aye, Mrs. Spencer,” the woman’s husband replied, though his eyes remained wary. “You sent no word?”

“I—” Jason looked at Elizabeth, whose face had gone white. With only a few words, he could destroy her reputation in this village, where she had lived as the vicar’s daughter. Where she had raised her son after her father’s death.

“He didn’t,” Elizabeth said after a long moment. “I confess, I—I nearly didn’t recognize him.” She met his expression, and her eyes were pleading. They would find a way out of this, but for the moment—

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Jason said.

“Oh, how lovely,” Mrs. Spencer crowed. “We must get back into town and spread the word. We think so highly of our Elizabeth, Captain Morgan. Standing strong against the world, raising her boy. I am so relieved you have returned.” She went back to the cart. “Elizabeth, the Ladies Syndicate will be meeting tonight, but we do not expect you to attend.”

Mr. Spencer stared at them for another long moment before tugging on the reins and pulling away.

When they were out of earshot, Elizabeth looked to Jason, terror etched in her expression. “What do we do now?” she managed.

September 29, 2016

I added Bittersweet, Chapter Eight tonight. The story is officially on hiatus as I remarked last week. I’ll keep you dated with how things unfold and when it will be returning.

Apologies for skipping last week’s flash fiction. My niece had her birthday party on Saturday, and I was also having an allergic reaction to my contacts which made eyes sensitive to the computer light. All is fixed and we’ll be back this week 🙂

This entry is part 8 of 35 in the Bittersweet

I came in like a wrecking ball
I never hit so hard in love
All I wanted was to break your walls
All you ever did was wreck me
Yeah, you, you wreck me

Wrecking Ball, Miley Cyrus


Saturday, May 4, 2002

Quartermaine Estate: Foyer

 AJ stormed through the door and into the foyer, ignoring the protests of Alice the maid as he bellowed for his grandfather. His pulse was racing, his muscles quivering—he couldn’t remember the last time he had been quite this goddamn livid.

Instead of Edward, Ned stepped out from the front parlor, a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Junior, having a bad day?” he asked dryly.

“Where is he?” AJ demanded, his hands so tightly fisted at his side that they ached. “Where the hell is our grandfather?”

“Taking a meeting at ELQ,” came the quiet and gentle tone of Lila behind them as Reginald wheeled her in from the conservatory. “And you’ll use a decent tone when you’re in my home.”

“Well, it’s Monica’s—” Ned began the old refrain, but AJ cut him off with an annoyed glance. “Sorry. Reflex.”

“I’m sorry, Grandmother, but he’s gone too far this time,” AJ said, struggling to keep his tone even.

“That may be, but he is still your grandfather, AJ.” Lila lifted her chin, but her eyes were somber. Resigned. “What’s he done now?”

“He went to my son’s school,” AJ told them, still reeling from Courtney’s revelations. “I don’t know how he managed to convince the headmaster, but he’s been meeting with Michael for the last few days. Telling him he’ll be coming here to live, that he’s a burden on Bobbie—”

Ned closed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s a new low. Even for him.”

“AJ—” Lila attempted.

“You should be grateful that I’m here and not Jason. Elizabeth, I’m sure has told him by now, and if you think I’m angry—”

“He’ll raze the old man to the ground,” Ned said. He looked to their grandmother. “You need to speak with him. If Grandfather upsets Michael, it might hurt AJ’s chances in court.” He hesitated and looked at AJ. “For what it’s worth, I’ve tried to talk to him. I knew he was angry after the will reading.”

“I know.” AJ dipped his head. “I was, too.” And hurt that Carly had tried to reach out from the grave to devastate him and his family. And what had they done to her but love Michael and want to be in his life? “I know Grandfather just wants to be part of Michael’s life. I love him, Grandmother, but I can’t let him ruin my chances.”

“I understand, AJ. And I will speak to him.” Lila pursed her lips. “Reggie, I’ll need to you to contact Jason—”

“Let me—” AJ waited a moment, taking a deep breath. “Let me speak with him. I need him to know that I wasn’t part of this, that I don’t condone it. If it comes from you, it won’t mean as much.”

“Fair enough.” Lila tilted her head. “I hope that you and Jason can work something out. I’d hate to see this dragged into court.”

“It’s not my first choice, Grandmother, but I’ll do whatever has to be done.”

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose as she spied the older man striding towards the courtyard from the parking lot. This was all her day needed.

“Ah, Elizabeth, just the young lady I wanted to see.” Edward offered her a broad smile, with a bit of chagrin in his eyes. She sighed. She should have known.

“I’m not running interference with Jason,” she told him as she scooped another set of dirty plates into her plastic tub. “You did the crime, Mr. Quartermaine, you do the time.” She paused and looked at him. “Has he found you yet?”

“Ah, no, but I spoke to my wife…” Edward cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders. “It’s a crime to see my great-grandson?”

She closed her eyes and cursed herself. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to put that note of hurt, of despondence into his voice? She was such a sucker.

“It’s a crime,” Elizabeth said, setting the tub down and turning to him, “when you tell a five-year-old boy who’s just lost his mother that he’s a burden to his grandmother.”

At that, Edward did look slightly embarrassed. “I’m not saying I haven’t made mistakes—”

“I’m not talking to Jason for you,” Elizabeth said. “You’re wasting your breath—”

“This isn’t about Jason. I wanted—” He hesitated. “When AJ files for custody, it’s likely you’ll be called—”

“And you’d like me not to talk so much about what Michael told me.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re wasting your breath. If I end up having to testify, even if I wanted to omit it, Alexis would ask.”

“Elizabeth, I’ve always thought of you as one of the family,” Edward with his smile firmly in place, even if his jaw was slightly more clenched. “You’ve always been so good to Emily. And you’ve been close with Jason—”

“I’m going to do what’s best for Michael, Mr. Quartermaine.” Elizabeth picked up her tub of dirty dishes and discarded food. “I think it’s about time someone started putting him first.”

“But—”

“Goodbye, Mr. Quartermaine.”

Elm Street Pier

Jason slowed his steps when he saw AJ on a bench at the bottom of the steps. Other than another member of the Quartermaine family, AJ was might be the person he wanted to see least in the world right now.

But he’d promised Elizabeth last night that he’d give AJ the benefit of the doubt when it came to Edward bothering Michael. He wasn’t convinced AJ wasn’t working with the Quartermaines to get custody, but he had to admit—it didn’t exactly seem like something AJ would do.

“Jason.” AJ got to his feet when Jason stepped off the bottom of the steps. “Hey. I was hoping to catch you on the way to the warehouse.”

“Is this about Michael?” Jason asked bluntly.

“I know Elizabeth told you that Grandfather was…that he was harassing Michael at his school.” AJ looked away, his skin mottled with suppressed anger. “I can imagine how angry you were when you found out, because I was, too. I still am.”

Jason looked out over the harbor. “Elizabeth said you didn’t have a hand in it.”

“She’s right. Look, I want my son. I think I’ve been up front about that. I haven’t pretended for a second that I don’t intend to use everything I can to get that done. Including asking Elizabeth to testify—”

Jason swung back again with a glare. “I told you. Leave her out of it—”

“I don’t want to have this argument with you again,” AJ cut in. “I just want to make it clear there’s no way in hell I would ever allow Grandfather to say those things to Michael.” He looked down at his hands, and for the first time, Jason could see the thick calluses that had developed, an indication of the hard labor AJ now did as a forklift operator. “You don’t remember our childhood—”

“I don’t want to talk about—”

“I wish I didn’t,” AJ cut in. “The last thing I want is Michael to go through what we did. Every little thing was measured, considered. If we brought home art projects, we were judged on them as if they were candidates for a museum. Every grade, every test was agonized over. The pressure to be the Quartermaines Grandfather wanted, that Mom and Dad wanted—” He swallowed. “I crumbled under the weight of it. I wasn’t strong enough to drown them out. I drank to make them stop. You went with the flow. You were smarter than I was—”

“That’s not who I am now,” Jason said roughly, for the first time recognizing the pain in the older man’s expression. “I’m not Jason Quartermaine—”

“No, you’re not,” AJ said quietly. “But you were once. And I’m afraid that if Grandfather has his way, Michael will grow up with that pressure. With soul-crushing expectations. I’m sure Michael is as smart as you were—as you are now—don’t shake your head, Jason. I know what you do for a living, and you don’t do it for long if you’re an idiot.”

“AJ—”

“I want to be a father to my son,” AJ told him. “But I promise you, Jason, if I have that chance, I won’t let Grandfather do those things to him. I’ve talked to Grandmother. I’m making it clear that I won’t participate in any custody suit he files on his own, and I won’t allow Grandfather anywhere near Michael if he continues to act this way.”

Jason dipped his head, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what to do with this information, with this insight into a man he preferred to ignore. But he knew AJ was being honest with him, and if there anything Jason respected — it was honesty. “I called the school and told them if I found out Edward met with Michael again, I’d have Alexis sue them.”

“Good, good. Uh…” AJ scratched the back of his neck. “I have to get to work. My shift starts soon.” He started down the pier, but then stopped and turned back. “I hope—I hope we can come to some sort of agreement about what’s best for Michael. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He left then, not waiting for Jason to answer. Not that Jason knew what he would say. In less than three weeks, everything he’d taken for granted about the uselessness of the man who was technically his brother had shifted and changed.

And he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.

Jake’s: Bar

“This day.” Elizabeth tossed back a long swig of her beer, then wrinkled her nose. “Oh, man. Who suggested the cheapest beer?”

“The girl who wanted to go on a Caribbean vacation this summer, which means we have to save every penny.” Gia shrugged and considered the thick dark liquid in her pint glass. “Not sure this is worth it. Next time, we just get the big bottle of wine.”

“But then we’d miss all this atmosphere,” Courtney said with a bright smile as she gestured toward the rest of the room, filled with dock hands and men playing beer. The trio of girls were the only females—save Jake behind the bar.

But no one approached them or gave them a second look. Courtney was Sonny’s sister, Gia was a cop’s sister, and Elizabeth…

Elizabeth decided not to think about why men who worked for Jason and Sonny were ignoring her.

“So, how did telling the boys about Granddaddy Q go?” Gia asked, folding her arms on the table. “You worked all day—”

“You didn’t come back last night after telling him?” Courtney raised her eyebrows. “Do we have something else to put on the agenda?”

“No,” Elizabeth drawled with a roll of her eyes. “It was okay. He was pissed as hell, like I’m sure AJ was. I talked him out of going right to the mansion, but it was a close call.” She lifted a shoulder. “We talked, and then we went for a ride.” When Gia started to wiggle her eyebrows, she laughed and punched her roommate lightly in the shoulder. “No, I mean on the bike. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I’m done pretending that we’re just…friends.”

“Thank God.” Gia raised her hands in the air. “Hallelujah!”

“AJ looked ready to kill this morning,” Courtney said. “He went straight to the mansion to confront his grandfather.” Her mouth twisted in a slight grimace. “I suppose I don’t have the influence on him that you do with Jason.”

Elizabeth winced, but shook it off. “He must have talked to Lila, because Edward showed up at Kelly’s. I’m not sure if he thought I could make peace with Jason or he could talk me out of mentioning any of it at a custody hearing, but I told him no way.”

“Even if you wanted to leave it out,” Gia said, “Alexis isn’t going to let this slide. She’d use it against AJ as a sign the Q’s are demonic, but yeah, there’s no way this isn’t going to be a thing.”

“It’s insane. How did he think Michael was going to keep this to himself?” Courtney asked with another sigh. “I hate that Edward might have messed with AJ’s chances, but you’re right. This is a mark against the Quartermaines.”

“They’re never more dangerous than when they’re trying to help,” Elizabeth said with a rueful smile. She grimaced. “Damn it. Why does he have to be here tonight?”

Zander emerged from a clump of men that had been at the pool table. He grabbed a chair from another table, turned it around and straddled it. “Slumming it tonight, ladies?”

“Who asked you to sit down?” Gia demanded, but Zander ignored her, focusing his gaze on Elizabeth who met his eyes dead on. She wasn’t intimidated by him.

She could take care of herself, and moreover, this was Jake’s. The bartender had given them a friendly wave when they’d arrived, and the bar itself was full of men who worked for Sonny. She’d like to think after all the problems Zander had had at his job lately, he’d show some common sense.

But clearly that was too much to hope for as Zander’s eyes narrowed. “You talk to your boyfriend lately?”

She lifted one eyebrow. “Why? You looking to pass another message to him? I’m not interested.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Zander smirked. “He’s not walking around like a man who’s satisfied. Maybe Gia’s more his speed.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Gia demanded.

“I mean, I merely suggested yesterday that maybe he needed to get laid,” Zander continued, ignoring her. “And he nearly put me through a wall.”

“I wish he’d throw you over a cliff,” Courtney muttered.

“I wondered what those bruises were from,” Elizabeth said sweetly as she gestured toward the dark marks at Zander’s neck. “I heard you weren’t measuring up at work.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe if Jason was getting what he needed at home, he wouldn’t be so bitchy at work.” He tilted his head, a wicked light in his eyes. “Or maybe you’re too frigid.”

Elizabeth fisted her hands in her lap, her blood beginning to simmer.

“Zander, you should probably go,” Courtney said. She leaned away from the table, looking in a different direction. “I think maybe—”

“Yeah, Emily told me you had a hang up about sex,” Zander continued, leaning in. “I guess no one can measure up to that first time—”

“Oh, that is it—” Gia got to her feet, but Elizabeth had already beat her to it. She picked up her glass and without even blinking, tossed it in his face.

Zander scowled and grabbed Gia’s beer.

Elizabeth gasped as the cold liquid splashed her face. Without one more thought, she lunged to her feet and launched herself across the table, tackling Zander and clawing at his face with her nails.

Gia rushed in to help, but the bar had already exploded. Men were trying to separate them, jostling each other. One man took exception to a bump from another, punched him in the face, then had a chair cracked over his head by someone else from the guy’s group.

Courtney neatly sidestepped the whole thing and moved a chair out of Jason’s away, as he closed the last distance between him and the melee at the table.

She’d spied him several minutes earlier—and after all, hadn’t she warned Zander to leave?

Elizabeth felt herself being lifted up by the waist and kicked out wildly until she realized it was Jason. He set her down next to Courtney, grabbed Zander by the throat and lifted him up as well.

“When the hell did he get here?” Elizabeth demanded, wiping blood from her nose. Courtney winced, then bit her lip as she watched Jason drag Zander towards the back of the bar.

“Uh, where’s he taking him?” Courtney asked.

Gia joined them, holding her hand to her cheek. “Fucking wastes of space,” she snarled. “Someone punched me in the face.”

“I better go out there before Jason kills him,” Elizabeth managed before taking off. After a moment, Gia and Courtney followed.

Jake’s: Back Alley

But Jason wasn’t going to kill Zander Smith. He didn’t know why Zander had thrown the beer at Elizabeth, but when he had, he’d seen red and didn’t quite remember closing the distance between the stairs and the brawl.  Fucker was lucky Jason didn’t separate his head from his body.

Though it felt good to finally be using his fists against Zander’s face the way he’d always visualized, Jason saw the back door open out of the corner of his eye. Elizabeth and her friends piled into the alley, followed by Jake.

When he was sure Zander wouldn’t be able to get back up and do any more damage, Jason let him slide to the ground, landing on his back, coughing up. His face was streaked with grime and dirt from the alley, along with scratches from Elizabeth and Gia’s nails—and blood from the broken nose he’d made sure Zander would suffer.

He’d seen the scumbag punch Elizabeth in the face. Zander Smith was lucky to be walking away with his ability to breathe intact.

Jason planted his motorcycle boot on Zander’s chest and leaned down. “You get up and you go away,” he told him in a low voice. “The next time I see you, I might not let you leave alive.”

Zander coughed again and spit to the side, the saliva mixed with blood. “Fucking bitch needs you to fight her battles—”

“Call me a bitch again!” Elizabeth snarled, but Gia grabbed her elbow to keep her from striding forward. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I knocked you on your ass, you piece of shit—”

“Who are you and what did you do with Elizabeth?” Courtney hissed.

“Get up and go away,” Jason told him again. “Don’t look back. You’re done here.” He stepped back.

Zander stumbled to his feet and spat again. “You don’t get to decide that,” he snarled, but he didn’t press the point. He disappeared down the alley. Jason turned to the quartet at the back door.

“Just wanted to be sure you wouldn’t kill him,” Jake said blandly. “I’ll go in and turn on the sprinklers.”

Elizabeth was breathing hard from the exertion of the fight, her pulse was racing as she watched Jason stand several feet away, breathing just as hard, his muscular chest rising up and down beneath the black t-shirt he wore.

“We should—” Gia grabbed Courtney by the arm and yanked her through the door.

“Should we leave them alone?” Courtney asked. “He looked pretty angry—”

“Girl, those were mating pheromones,” Gia told her. “Let’s help Jake clear out the bar.”

“Um, we weigh like a hundred pounds,” Courtney replied, but followed her friend. “I don’t think we’re going to be a lot of help.”

Back in the alley, Jason and Elizabeth just continued to stare at one another. Should she go inside? Say something? But her throat refused to produce sound and her feet were glued to the sidewalk.

He strode forward then, slid his hand around her neck and drew her up on her toes. And then he kissed her.

She’d been kissed before—by Lucky, mostly. Once, uncomfortably by Nikolas. A few times on dates with Gia’s annoying friends—but never like this. He consumed her. The world around her melted away, and the only thing she knew was the taste of his mouth, the slight tang of beer as his tongue slid past her lips. The way his hands felt as they slid beneath the thin camisole she wore and touched her skin, scorching a trail up her back.

She could feel the cool stone of the building behind her as he backed her against it, taking his lips from hers in order to kiss her jaw, taste the skin at her collarbone, the nip of his teeth at her throat. It was everything she’d ever thought it might be, but somehow more. Everything was brighter, more vibrant.

A bottle smashed somewhere nearby and Elizabeth jerked away, drawn back to reality by the sound. She pushed Jason back a little, suddenly uncomfortable with how fast and…how consuming the moment had been.

His fingers touched the swelling at her cheek. “You’re going to have a black eye,” he murmured, with none of the aggression he’d shown just moments earlier. “I should have hit him harder.”

“I’m pretty sure he’ll have scars from me and Gia,” Elizabeth replied with a sauciness she hadn’t felt in months. “I appreciate the assist, but I had it under control.”

“I know.” He grinned then, stepping back, giving her some space to cool down. “I just finally had a good excuse to kick his ass. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

She knew her own smile must be as wide. God, Gia and Courtney had been right. She needed this electric feeling, this—sensation of being alive. She could feel all her nerve endings standing on end. “I have a pretty decent idea.”

He tipped his head toward the door. “I should go in, make sure Jake cleared the bar. You need a ride home?”

“Even if I didn’t,” Elizabeth said, arching a brow, “I’ll take one.”

Port Charles Harbor

It was just after dawn when a yacht sailed into the harbor as some of the locals were beginning their morning shift in the warehouses that lined the docks.

It had left Caracas, Venezuela two weeks earlier and had initially been scheduled to arrive the week before. But a storm off the coast of Massachusetts had delayed its northward progress, and traffic down the St. Lawrence River from the Atlantic had been congested now spring had arrived and wealthy residents were taking their own pleasure cruises from the Great Lakes to the ocean.

The yacht sliced through the murky blue water of the Elm Street Pier and slid into a slip that had been reserved for the summer.  Its crew set down the anchor, and some of workers at a nearby warehouse part gaped at the large vessel. Yachts were common in Port Charles, and wealth was not a new sight—they had their own island just outside the harbor complete with a Gothic mansion.

But this yacht was unusually large, with swarthy Columbian crew, and a name scrawled in Spanish across the bow, La Venganza. Some of the dock workers who spoke the language remarked on naming one’s boat after revenge, but everyone knew rich people didn’t have much imagination.

Several hours later, a man strolled out to the bow of the boat where the pier met Elm Street. He had a decent view of the harbor and, in particular, Pier 52. He lit a cigar and took a long pull, enjoying the bitter, smoky taste as it rolled down his throat.

“Let the games begin,” he murmured, before turning to meet with his first business associate, his grin wide and enthusiastic. “Ah, Senore Roscoe, thank you for meeting with me…”

September 22, 2016

This entry is part 7 of 35 in the Bittersweet

I don’t know where I am
I don’t know what I’ve done
I just go over it and over it again and again and again
I can’t sleep at night
I can
’t breathe
Numb, Airborne Toxic Event


Friday, May 3, 2002

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

Sonny scowled, closing the folder of a business plan from Benny he’d intended to ignore anyway. He rose to his feet. “The little punk said what?”

Jason’s expression was tight, the muscles in his shoulders bunched with an unleashed fury. The pragmatic side of Sonny’s brain was relieved Jason hadn’t strangled Zander in broad daylight in front of witnesses when their peace was fragile.

But most of him wished Zander was lying at the bottom of the cold dark Port Charles Harbor. He’d been right to hold him back, right to test him. Goddamn bastard.

“One little setback and this is how he reacts?” Sonny shook his head. “Hothead. No goddamn common sense. Instead of doubling down, trying to prove himself, he mouths off.” He crossed the room the mini bar, but poured himself a glass of water instead of the bourbon he wanted.

He’d found himself turning to liquor more often than not, and while he rarely drank to excess, it struck him as a crutch he couldn’t afford.

He turned back to Jason. “You warn Elizabeth that Zander’s on the warpath? I don’t want him harassing her.”

“I talked to her.” Jason waited a minute. “I had Francis give me a guy to hang out at Kelly’s when Elizabeth works. That’s where Zander would likely catch her. She can handle herself, but—”

“He’s been warned,” Sonny cut in. “He shouldn’t need another damn warning. He shouldn’t have needed on in the first place. Every man in the organization knows—” He stopped, took a breath. “Jason, you know that anyone who’s been around for a few years, they think Elizabeth is—”

“I know.” Jason looked away, but Sonny caught the faint hint of red at his cheeks. “They still think I was—that winter I was shot—”

“When Nikolas Cassadine announced it at the Christmas party, after the bomb in her studio—when it became clear you were staying there—” Sonny tilted his head. “After I put a guard on her after you left. We never made it clear she wasn’t—” He paused. “What I’m telling you is, Jason, that I can talk to Francis, to Johnny. They can spread the word discreetly. If you want it known that she’s not—”

“Would it matter?” Jason asked. He met Sonny’s eyes, then shifted away. “If—if we say anything, it just draws more attention to her. We don’t go after women. It shouldn’t matter who they are. If he’s talking about Elizabeth that way—can you imagine how he’d treat the women who work at the clubs Nico wants him to run?”

“Yeah.” Sonny exhaled slowly, taking note of the fact Jason had declined to clarify Elizabeth’s status. She would remain linked with Jason unless they changed it. That relationship would carry weight with most of their men. And might prove dangerous to those who would use it against them. “We’ll send him a message. And those who work with Nico in general.”

He crossed to his desk, picked up the receiver. “Right now, Zander collects money for Nico. He doesn’t do any of the physical work, but he keeps the rest of the guys in line, particularly for some of the more lucrative bookies. He’s done with that now. I want him back on muscle. Any trust I had is gone now, and I don’t reward dumb fucks.”

“He’s gonna be pissed about that,” Jason said. “Might make it worse.”

“There were witnesses that heard him go after a woman under my protection. Mock you, challenge your authority. I don’t give a shit about Zander’s personal feelings. He wants to come at me? Let him.” Sonny scoffed. “He won’t. He’ll keep coming at weaker targets because he doesn’t have the balls. You let him live once. He crosses us again, we’re not so nice the next time.”

Oasis: Back Office

“God damn it, Zander.” Nico pounded his fist on the table. “You got a fucking death wish, you little shit?”

Zander scowled, slumping in his chair. “What, I’m fired now?” He expected no less after Jason Morgan had nearly strangled him. He’d known it was suicide to insult Elizabeth to his face, but he couldn’t resist the temptation—he knew insulting that bitch would crack Morgan’s legendary cool.

But it hadn’t. Oh, yeah, Morgan had shoved him against the wall, but he’d done with a calm expression. As if he were swatting a fucking fly. Fucker. He hated that bastard. He’d pissed Jason off, but not enough to lose it.

“No,” Nico retorted. “But you’re back to cracking heads and busting knees.” He huffed. “I’m gonna have to find someone else to take over for me when I go to Vegas,” he told Lenny. “I thought this fucker could be fixed—I thought if I gave Sonny some time, but no.” His eyes were like laser slicing through him when he looked back at Zander. “You got a thing for this bitch? Is that why you can’t keep away?”

“What?” Zander demanded. “No!”

“I got eyes on you, you moron. I know you went after her at that diner you live at. I know you harassed her—that’s why Sonny called last week.” He lit a cigarette. “You didn’t tell me that happened.”

“It wasn’t important—”

“You ended your career, you dumb shit. You fucked up your life over a whore so I hope you at least fucked her first,” Nico muttered. He sucked in a long drag, then exhaled, the wispy smoke disappearing into the dimly lit room. “Is that what this is about? You wanted her, she wanted Morgan?”

“I don’t—” Zander stopped, took a deep breath. “No,” he said, a bit more calmly. “I don’t care about Elizabeth Webber. I shouldn’t have said anything about her. Or to her.”

“Little late for that.” He looked at Lenny. “Call Ollie. Tell him to send me Paulie.” Nico tipped the ash of his cigarette into a ceramic ash tray at his side. “You can go work for Ollie. Paulie will take your place here. He’s due to move up.”

“Damn it, Nico—”

“If I want Corinthos to give me the go ahead on Vegas,” Nico said, his tone tight, “I gotta toe the fucking line. I already put my neck out for you once, you piece of shit. I ain’t doing it twice.” He leaned back, considered him a long moment. “You play your cards right, Smith, you let Morgan cool off, and you stay away from this woman—maybe when I get to Vegas, I can convince Sonny to send you out to me. But get your head together. Women aren’t worth losing money and power.”

It hadn’t been about a woman. Nothing to do with her. Just what she represented. Who she was to Jason Morgan. The man had everything, but hell if he’d let anyone else get a toe up in this world.

One day, someone was going to put a bullet between Jason’s eyes, and Zander was going to raise a toast in celebration.

Gia and Elizabeth’s Apartment: Living Room

Courtney refilled her glass of Moscato—her third of the evening, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last. “I could learn to hate the Quartermaines.” She could still remember the way they’d looked at her, judged her. Found her wanting. They didn’t care much for AJ, but they sure as hell didn’t think she was good enough for him all the same.

“I’d ask what Jason thinks about all of this,” Gia said, swirling the liquid in her wine glass as she reclined on the sofa, “but I’m not an idiot. You haven’t told him yet.”

Elizabeth snorted, curling up at the other end of the sofa. “I tell Jason that Edward Quartermaine is harassing Michael at school, and I won’t have to worry about being in the middle of a custody battle. I’ll be bailing Jason out of jail for assault and battery.” She blinked. “You think he’d get bail?”

“Well, as long as he doesn’t murder the dumb bastard,” Gia considered, “I think he’d be in clear. They usually only withhold bail for serious felonies.” She lifted her glass in a mock salute. “You start sleeping with him, you’re really going to have start boning up on your criminal law.”

“Haha,” Elizabeth muttered darkly.

“She didn’t deny it this time,” Courtney pointed out to Gia. “Good sign, I think.”

“I don’t see the point in wasting my breath.” Elizabeth sighed and set her wine glass on the coffee table. “I should tell him.”

“Uh, like yesterday,” Gia said. She flicked her fingers at Courtney. “This one is going to tell her husband, I’m sure.”

Elizabeth turned stricken eyes to Courtney. “You’re going to tell AJ?”

Courtney swallowed and shrugged. “I kind of have to, don’t I? I mean, AJ had a huge fight with his grandfather a few days ago after the will reading. And if you’re telling Jason, I think AJ should get a chance to defend himself. What if Jason thinks AJ put his grandfather up to it?”

“Did he?” Gia raised her eyebrows.

“No!”

“Courtney.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I just—I want to do the right thing. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything to anyone. You don’t tell AJ, I won’t tell Jason—”

“Well, that’s just a stupid reaction.” Gia huffed. “Elizabeth, you have to tell Jason. He’s Michael’s legal guardian, and Edward Quartermaine is screwing with the kid’s mind. I mean, I’m sure he means well, but trying to get in good with the kid behind everyone’s back just screams manipulative.”

“I know, I know. I just—” Elizabeth pursed her lips. “I don’t know. It’s been…almost normal. Michael was starting to bounce back a bit. When I tell Jason, his first instinct is going to be to go after Edward. I don’t want that. I don’t want Jason to have to deal with that. He has enough grief with the Quartermaines.”

“It’s cute how concerned she is about a guy who’s not her sex toy,” Gia told Courtney. She looked back at Elizabeth. “Listen. You can’t not say anything. You’re gonna feel guilty. And if you keep quiet, Edward Quartermaine is just going to keep going to Michael’s school. They won’t turn him way—too much money. Too much influence. He’s gonna keep confusing and upsetting Michael, and eventually, it’s going to come out that this is happening, and that you knew.”

Elizabeth dipped her head. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. I just—” She bit her lip. “I don’t know. It’s stupid to think I could stay out of this—I just don’t want to fall into bad habits.”

“Bad habits?” Courtney echoed, but Gia was shaking her head.

“You know telling someone is the right thing. You know it, because you’ve always been a goody-two shoes—”

“Oh, shut up—”

“Gia,” Courtney tried to break in, because she didn’t like the tone in either woman’s voice or their flushed cheeks. But it was if she wasn’t there.

“So, you wanting to remain silent is about this stick you have up your ass about Jason. You think I haven’t noticed you pretending you’re going to keep him at arm’s length? You’re doing the same bullshit now you did last year, only you don’t have Lucky to blame anymore.”

Elizabeth shot to her feet, her eyes dark with anger. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” Gia began as she carefully got to her feet, “that you’re still telling yourself you don’t want Jason that way. You’re being his friend, but you’re sending the same damn signals you sent last year. I watched you when he came to see you a few days ago. He’s giving you the same looks, and you’re not shutting it down—”

“That’s not true—”

“What the hell are you so afraid of?” Gia shot back.

“Gia, come on,” Courtney murmured, standing. She didn’t want them to fight like this. She touched Gia’s arm. “Don’t—”

“You have no right—” Elizabeth stopped, and closed her eyes. “Gia—” Her voice broke, and so Gia’s face softened.

“I don’t know how we ended up being friends or roommates,” Gia continued, “but here we are. I don’t want to be like the idiots who pushed you at Lucky last year. That’s not what I’m trying to do, Elizabeth. I just—” She bit her lip. “You were miserable last year going after that modeling job, dating Lucky. You were pretending to be someone you’re not. When you left Lucky, when we decided to do this new life thing together, what did you tell me?”

“I—” Elizabeth sighed and sank onto the sofa. She closed her eyes. “That I didn’t want to pretend anymore. I didn’t want to be someone I wasn’t.”

Gia sat next to her. “If you really don’t want anything romantic with Jason, that’s fine. But you’re sitting here, contemplating not telling him something about Michael you know he has to know, and you’re doing it because you can’t pretend when you’re with him. As long as you don’t see him, you can play this game.”

“Elizabeth,” Courtney said, a bit uneasy. “I don’t know everything that happened with Lucky, and I don’t expect you to tell me. I just—I think Jason should know Edward is around Michael. I’m going to tell AJ, so he can do something about it. Jason and AJ want to put Michael first. We should help them do that.”

“I know.” Elizabeth lifted her wine glass to her lips. “Hand me my cell phone.” She looked at Gia. “That’s why we ended up friends. You’re the only one who ever called me on my bullshit. Once that stopped scaring me, I realized how important it is.” Her lips twitched. “Bitch.”

“Skank.” Gia handed the silver phone over to her. “I won’t wait up.”

Brownstone: Front Step

When Jason pulled up, Elizabeth was sitting at the top of the steps.

“I’m sorry to call you so late,” she said, shifting a bit to the side to make room.

“It’s okay,” Jason responded as he climbed the steps to take a seat next to her.  “You said something was wrong.”

“I wrestled with telling you this for a lot of reasons,” Elizabeth said. She twisted so that she was half facing him, her back against the cool stone. “Most of them aren’t important, but I mostly just…I know it’s going to make everything worse. You’re going to be so angry…”

“Elizabeth…” He leaned forward, trying to capture her eyes but she kept them down, looking at her lap. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“It’s not about me,” Elizabeth replied. “It’s…I pick Michael up during the week. Two days, sometimes three. Today, he was in a bit of a mood. Not a bad one, just…quiet. He’s been quiet since Carly…but it was different today. It took some prying—Jason, Edward arranged for Michael to come to the headmaster’s office.”

Jason sat up, his shoulders tensing. “He harassed Michael at school?”

“He told Michael it was going to be their little secret. His way of getting to know him before Michael came to live with them. So, he wouldn’t be so scared.” Elizabeth shook her head, her voice thickening. “When Michael said he wanted to stay with his grandmother, Edward told him it would be easier at the mansion. More family. It wouldn’t be such a burden to look after him.”

“A fucking burden?” Jason repeated. He lunged to his feet. “He told Michael he was a burden to Bobbie?”

“Jason…” Elizabeth stood. “I know you’re angry, and I’m sorry. I just—you needed to know this was happening. I didn’t tell Bobbie yet. I wanted to see how you wanted to deal with it—”

Deal with it? He was going to go to that damn house and throw Edward Quartermaine into the fucking lake. What the hell was he thinking? “Carly’s only been gone for a few weeks,” Jason managed through a clenched jaw. “He couldn’t wait—”

“Jason…” Elizabeth sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. “I know, and I know you think confronting him is the right thing to do, but—”

“It won’t solve anything,” he muttered. “It’ll make me feel better, but that’s not the point.” He sat back down and dragged his hands through his hair. “What did you tell Michael?”

“I told him that Bobbie loved him, that you loved him. That he was home with her and no one was taking him anywhere.” Elizabeth dropped next to him. “I know I probably stepped out of line, I just didn’t want him worrying that he might—he’s been through so much during this last year. Leaving Sonny’s, losing him out of his life. Coming here. Carly working, then when she died…he can’t handle more instability. He shouldn’t have to.” She hesitated. “I told Courtney and Gia. Courtney is telling AJ about it.”

“Why?” Jason demanded. “He probably put the old man up to it—” He looked away even as he said it.

“You know that’s not true,” Elizabeth murmured. “I don’t want to champion him because, well, I don’t know anything for sure, but if AJ were behind it, he wouldn’t send Edward as his emissary.”

“No,” Jason muttered. “He wouldn’t. He would have gone himself.” He waited a moment. “I’ll have to talk to Alexis again. I want her to be ready to challenge any suit they bring my way. Edward might not wait for AJ to file on his own.” He shook his head. “Michael’s staying with Bobbie. He’s not going anywhere near them—” He glanced over, then frowned. “What? You look like you want to say something.”

“Edward going behind everyone’s back—it looks bad for him. But if AJ wasn’t involved—that’s not going to change his custody case.” Elizabeth asked softly. She closed her eyes. “Jason. I hate this. I hate that I have to say this—but I think you’re running out of time to make a decision.”

Jason flinched. “AJ can’t be trusted. You said so yourself—”

“I know that,” Elizabeth said. “I just…I don’t know, Jason. Maybe you should talk to AJ. Come up with a third solution. I don’t want Michael to go through a custody hearing, have to talk to doctors and judge and watch you and AJ fight over him only for you to lose.”

“You want AJ to have Michael?” Jason demanded. “After everything he’s done—”

“I’m not saying that. And I’ve never said that,” Elizabeth retorted. “And I’m not in any position to judge anything anyone else does, okay? I don’t know. I just—I want what’s best for Michael. I’m just—” She bit her lip.

“Spit it out, Elizabeth.”

“I know all the reasons you don’t want AJ to have custody,” Elizabeth said finally. “And you know I agree with them. Jason, I’m just so scared that a judge isn’t going—he’s not going to take them seriously. If you and AJ fight this out, if you force a judge to rule—” She swallowed. “Jason…”

“I know.” He exhaled slowly, and looked away, looked straight ahead to the other row of brownstones across the street. “Thanks for telling me about AJ. I know—I know you’re not comfortable telling me anything Courtney says to you.”

“Well, I figured it was fair warning.”

Jason hesitated. “Why else?”

She blinked at him. “Why else what?”

“You said you struggled with not telling me for a lot of reasons,” he said slowly. “I can’t—I don’t think they were all about Michael.”

“Jason—” She bit her lip. “No, I guess they weren’t.” She rubbed hands over her denim clad knees. “I just—I don’t want things to be like they were before. I want us to be friends, I do. I just—” She tilted her eyes to the sky. “I’m not sure we can be.”

He sucked in a sharp breath—he hadn’t expected that. “Elizabeth—” He exhaled slowly. “Why can’t we be friends?” he asked. He almost scowled at he saw a tiny smile flit across her petite features. “What? What’s funny?”

“Nothing…it’s usually…I’m used to being the one asking that —” Elizabeth sighed. “Why were we friends in the first place?”

“What?” He lifted his brows. “When? Last year?”

“Ever. You felt sorry for me and gave me a ride. How did…” She looked at her fingernails, painted some sort of dark shade he couldn’t make out by the light of the street lamps. “How did that turn into everything else?”

“I—” Jason hesitated. He’d never really thought about how they’d become so close. They just…they just were. Or had been. “I don’t know. I guess you were just…you were someone I could talk to.”

“Maybe it was that morning I found you in the snow. Maybe that’s when it changed.” She sighed. “I always felt like I took advantage of you. Like…you were there because I saved your life once and you just…”

“We weren’t friends because I felt obligated,” Jason finished her thought. “That’s not what I do. Yeah, after that winter—after you dragged me to your studio and forced soup down my throat, sure, if you’d needed something, I would have done it. You saved my life. But that’s not why—” Not why he’d been so scared the night the bomb was in her studio. Why he’d felt as torn about cutting things off after that…

Why saying goodbye a few weeks later had hurt so much.

“Why does it matter?” he said instead. “Do you need to know why I care about you?”

“Because I did take advantage of you last year,” Elizabeth said.

He shook his head. “I don’t see it that way—”

“Oh, come on…” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t pretend I didn’t—” She bit her lips. “Anyone else would have called me a tease or something worse—”

“I’m not anyone else.” He took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “And you don’t get to tell me what happened last year. I was there, and I know what you were going through—”

“Jason—”

“And you can’t keep punishing yourself. Is that this is about?” He released her and got to his feet. “We can’t be friends because of what happened?”

She stood. “Because there’s no place in my life for you.”

He took the hit and didn’t flinch. “If that’s true, Elizabeth, then I can respect that. But I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to feel,” she shot back, echoing words he’d once spoken to her. “I can’t go back. I can’t do any of that again—”

“Any of what?” he challenged, feeling the frustration crawl up his throat. “Damn it, Elizabeth, what did I do—”

“I’m never going to be broken again, do you get that?” Her voice cracked, a tear slid down her cheek, iridescent in the pale streetlight. As soon as the words left her mouth, her shoulders slumped, the anger slid out of her posture.

Jason closed his mouth, because he didn’t know how to respond to that. How to argue with that. He didn’t even know why he was pushing this except— “I—”

Elizabeth sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t—you didn’t—I did it to myself. I let people tell me how to feel, how to live. I let them direct my life. I’ve worked my ass off for the last five months to be the person I was supposed to be. I can’t…I can’t go back. I can’t be that person again. After the rape, after losing Lucky, after the wedding—I keep starting my life over again. I can’t do it again. I just can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to. I just…” Wanted to see her. Be around her. Take her to the cliff roads. “I just—”

“But it hurts too much…” A tear slid down her cheek, glinting in the dim light. “It all hurts, and I can’t stand it. I hate this. I hate that when I see you, it’s like nothing has changed—”

He took her by the elbow and drew her in closer. “Elizabeth—”

“Even the way you say my name—” Her voice broke and she dipped her head, leaned into him. “I just want to be…” She trailed off, as if she didn’t know how to finish that.

“I want you to be whoever you want to be,” Jason told her, running his hand from her elbow to the top of her shoulder then back again. “You’re still putting pressure on yourself. If that’s because of me—”

“It’s because of me…” Elizabeth sighed again and stepped back. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m making things into a huge deal. What did you used to say? A solution doesn’t have to be complicated to be right? Maybe…I just have to stop.”

“There’s no law that says we have to do anything or be anything,” Jason told her. He tipped her face, so their eyes met. “You keep telling me you’re a different person now.”

“A better one,” she said with conviction. “And maybe it’s time I show you.”

He tilted his head toward the street. “How about a ride?”

“Perfect.” As they started towards his bike, she asked, “What are you going to do about Michael? About Edward?”

He sighed, as he handed her the helmet strapped on the back of his bike. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll call Alexis in the morning to see what she recommends. I might want to go…” Yell at someone, break something… “But it won’t solve anything. I have to do what’s good for Michael.”

Though if Edward making this move at Michael’s school was the reason Elizabeth had finally started to tear down the walls between them, well, maybe he might even find room to be grateful to the old bastard.

September 20, 2016

Hey! So no updates today, but I wanted to make a few announcements separate from the updates.  As most of you know, I’m a graduate student studying American History and pursuing my teaching certification while I work as both a substitute and a tutor at Huntington Learning Center.

As part of the teaching program and NJ state requirements, I have to pass the Praxis Core in order to even get into the program and student teach.  Reading and Writing, naturally, went well. Math has been a disaster. I’ve taken it twice and failed it. That happened for the second time on Monday. In order to reach my deadline of January 31 to take and pass it again, I have to really focus on preparing and study math a lot more in depth than I have up until now.  I’m pretty annoyed with my life, but I have to do what’s necessary.

So writing, as always, takes a back seat. I hope to continue with Flash Fiction, and to be honest, I may skip some weeks so I can take that hour or two to work on Bittersweet.

After next week, and Chapter Eight, Bittersweet is going on hiatus for about a month to allow me to conserve chapters I have and keep building a buffer zone. I’m going to work on Bittersweet again for my NaNoWriMo project so I can finish it finally.

And then, to be honest, the next time I start posting a full-length project, I’m actually going to wait until it’s fully written. Then I can post a few times a week. I don’t think anyone is really served well by piece meal updates. Storylines feel like they’re being dragged out constantly when really they’re just over a few chapters and you wouldn’t notice the time if you were reading in a book.

I appreciate those of you who are coming back week after week for both Bittersweet and A King’s Command, the flash fiction series. To be honest, I’m using Flash Fiction to workshop ideas and I may end up taking the series and reworking it a bit once it’s complete to flesh it out and make it a traditional novel from the site. The difference is that I just post at the end of the hour rather than waiting, rereading a few times, sending it to Cora, reviewing her suggestions, etc. It’s messier, and sometimes drives me crazy but it’s a good writing exercise.

Love you guys, see you tomorrow for the update!