Well, I took another step in this amazing writing journey, tiny but sure. I’ve been wanting to do a reading of a story, and what better one to start with than Adrift No More, a nanofiction nugget at 250 words. I wanted to give it a try before investing in fancy equipment, but it’s pretty amazing what you can do with the basics.
I hope you enjoy it. If you do, please like and subscribe to my channel. That would be amazing and so appreciated.
I’ve created a page for my videos for future reference, but here is my one an only video to date for your convenience.
I didn’t get into the final rounds, but I made the most points to date in the five Writing Battle competitions I’ve participated in since Fall 2022, earning an Honorable Mention, so it’s worth mentioning! And sharing.
Each contestant participates as a judge in the Duals by reading ten fellow participants’ stories, two at a time. You must pick one of the two, which moves both along to the next dual, and they either drop out or earn points along the way. Your story undergoes the same peer judging by ten participants, hopefully earning points in its genre. There are four genres and you only compete against your own.
Once the dual rounds are complete, the stories are divided into houses, ranked from 1 to 10 (10 being the top score), and moved to the final 64, then 32, and so on until professional writers select the finalists. There is a nice cash prize.
You can see above that my genre was Inanimate Romance. I love the imaginative prompts in these contests… and romance! Color me inspired!
You can find my past WB stories on my Short Stories page where they have been fleshed out a bit more, or the raw stories as submitted in my WB profile. Here is Adrift No More.
Come to me, my undulating emerald darlings. I am here, secure against this rocky cliff, waiting… Wanting.
You are no longer anchored to life. Let the turbulent sea drape you across my bent knees—my rambling elbows—my strong shoulders. Entangle your sensuous arms around my neck—your long, soft legs around my trunk. Fill my reaching fingers with your flowing strands.
Sense my strength and determination yet know I cannot endure if only one of you finds your way to me. I must have all who are lost.
Never will I refuse access, my darlings. I will hold you close and protect you in this ending between rising tides. There can be no satisfaction until I am quenched by thousands of your salty tears and doused in the collective pungency of your dying hours.
I am wood, once a mighty cypress rooted to the earth. Torn loose by an angry storm on a bitter day. Made to topple into the sea and set adrift through the ever-changing tides. Stripped of my external glory, pounded, battered, and finally… hewn into your loving shelter. My purpose is to cherish each of you wrenched so cruelly from your vast flowing bed by yet another craven tempest.
We will show these gods of the sea that even as they diminish us with their savagery, they cannot deprive us of our profound connection, our collective joining, our chosen finale.
Yes! That’s it. Hurry now. Embrace me, my lovely darlings. High tide is near.
D. L. Lewellyn
I think this one will stay intact.
The night the contest started, I returned home late after a long drive from my hometown where I spent a week with my dad who was recovering from a procedure. I never expected to have the energy or brainpower to write. When I saw the cards I was dealt (above), I pulled up a blank document and began. I finished an hour later. Then, of course, I polished it up multiple times until submission 40 hours after that.
Adrift No More earned six of the ten points.
The gist of my feedback was that the story read more like poetry or mythological lore. Some thought it too prosy, the words too complicated, and advised a simpler vocabulary. It was called eerie twice, once in a good way and once in a stalkerish kind of way. Hey, I was trying to get that Hoarder prompt in. I guess it worked.
A favorite commenter excerpt was, “WOW—what a poetic, sensual portrayal of seaweed finding driftwood. Your vivid, tactile description gave me chills!” Another, “When you open with this: Come to me, my undulating emerald darlings, I knew at the very least it was going to read beautifully. And hooboy did you not disappoint. This is a love song for the ages. It gives me old Greek god vibes, maybe even The Odyssey.”
Let me know what you think about the passionate call to dying seaweed from a lonely piece of battered wood who craves connection and love.
If you would like to go behind the scenes of this amazing contest platform and meet the creators, I’ve interviewed Max and Teona Bjork twice on my Spotlight.
Comments welcome! Give my stories a read and feel free to sign up for my newsletter where I make sure to offer you entertaining content and a free story to download.
Well then, check out Part 1 of Pixie Dust and Stud Collars in my August Newsletter. Sign up to get Part 2 delivered to your inbox. Let me know if you like reading installments like the old days of pulp magazines. I know I do.
It was happening—in that wavering haze that made Shannon think of a desert mirage—if the desert was packed full of people, had a roof, and was the size of a giant basement. A Mirage. Humidity. Maybe a special effect manufactured by the band.
Those were the preferred explanations in the beginning, but no more, not after witnessing the phenomenon three times. That didn’t mean she had an answer…
In my email newsletter this month, I’m sharing a recent short story I wrote for a Punk Meets Fae mashup challenge. I’ll be offering the story in installments through December, and I’m including Part 1 here as well.
If you’d like to continue with the story, I’d love you to join my list. You can unsubscribe at any time.
Pixie Dust and Stud Collars
Part 1
It was happening—in that wavering haze that made Shannon think of a desert mirage—if the desert was packed full of people, had a roof, and was the size of a giant basement. A Mirage. Humidity. Maybe a special effect manufactured by the band.
Those were the preferred explanations in the beginning, but no more, not after witnessing the phenomenon three times. That didn’t mean she had an answer.
The effect was indiscernible until it hit you that something was off, and you looked harder, only to observe the eerie dust cloud coalesce over an unsuspecting pubgoer. More terrifying was when the target vanished, no one seemed to notice, no one but Shannon as she stood, dumbfounded, heart racing while the screaming, thrashing fans jostled her.
It had taken three Twisted Chords performances to believe what her eyes were seeing. And here she was, seeing it again. But tonight, at the RockSea GoGo, the all-grrrl band’s fourth venue, Shannon was ready for action. Action, but no plan, other than to yank the target out of harm’s way if she spotted him in time—her best strategy after too many sleepless nights agonizing over the reality and what to do about it. Shannon froze.
Yes! That towering man in front of the stage had to be the target.
The ones before had stuck out like that—taller than anyone around them, powerfully built, gorgeous.
She wiggled and shimmied in his direction, straining to keep her eye on the guy, the band, and the sparkling dust. It wasn’t easy. The surf-punk femme power chant had the crowd riled as the mini-skirted, go-go-booted singers shredded their instruments and emptied their lungs over the worshipping crowd… And the acrid air was beyond sultry, obscuring the glitter. Was it moving toward the giant dude wearing a spiked collar? She both hoped and dreaded that it was.
Shannon thrived on the overstimulating, dizzying clash of sensations from a packed pub. Soldering with sweaty bodies at these venues was her passion. It was also her job as a journalist. Aside from punk rock music’s raw strings, tribal-stomp beats, and off-kilter crescendos, the intimate fusion was what Shannon craved.
The bobbing bodies lost in art-defying noise were a thing of beauty, a single entity, greater than themselves, amplifying the music’s message, inspiring escape into a primal existence. The crowd’s pulse was the centerpiece of her reviews. This band’s scale between screaming rebellious dissonance and hypnotic siren calls added a thrilling dimension. She cringed, even as she made a mental note to use this in a piece later. Folklore imagery kept creeping into her ideas about the five hauntingly beautiful musicians.
What bothered Shannon about the mystical connotation was that it felt like truth. While the familiarity was disconcerting and prompted the need for answers, it was the disappearances that filled Shannon with urgency, bringing up buried memories of personal loss. If there was a chance she could prevent another one, she needed to take it. She stopped pushing and strained on her tiptoes for a clear view of the stage.
The dust cloud that had blossomed in the strobing lights was forming into a moving ribbon. She felt the connection again, which she’d denied up till now. The materializing phenomena resided somewhere in her memory like an elusive itch.
Reason told her she had nothing to do with these happenings so bizarre no one would believe a word out of her mouth—probably not even Becka who thrived on the bizarre. Scratch that. Her best friend would swallow the story whole and beg for more. But once spoken, denial was off the table. Shannon worried that acknowledging her awareness somehow made her responsible for the disappearances. Her jaw tightened.
If she’d let her brilliant, receptive friend in on things, she might have had a better plan.
The bodies pressed in, their collective heat rolling over her like bathwater while she twisted up once more to peek around a wide punk rocker wearing a crewcut and glasses. Her target was only feet away… and he was looking right at her!
He sent her a wink.
Shannon blinked rapidly in response as if the repetitive focus might wake her from a dream. A waif-like girl fell into her. Shannon caught the laughing leather-and-lace-clad fan and heaved her back to her friends. Okay, not a dream. She straightened her shoulders.
This was it. The moment thinking on her feet would be critical.
Part 2 coming September 9 to my newsletter only.
Give my books a read and let me know what you think. Reviews and comments are always appreciated.
“Write one. Read ten. Win thousands… The peer-powered short story competition where everyone receives oodles of feedback.”
Writing Battle
As a participant, I can attest to the oodles of feedback, which is one half of the backbone of this engaging community. The other half is Max and Teona. Last summer, I visited with the dynamic duo as they prepared to launch their revamped platform—and soon after—what was fun got funner! We’re checking in this month to see how it’s going. Here’s what one member had to say about Writing Battle.
“This is a growing community with a mix of experienced and curious writers. Sharing your work and feedback in the forums is invaluable.”
Matt Gamarra
In The Beginning
We learned during their visit in 2023 that software engineer Max Bjork wanted a chance to use his creativity in his working life. Like many of us back in 2020, the disruptions to our lives and routines wrought by the pandemic inspired big changes. As an amateur screenwriter, Max turned his creative aspirations to writing contest platforms, recognizing a need to offer more to participants like a robust and engaging community, easier navigation, and more ways to have fun during the contest. Max gave up his job, took over daytime parenting so Teona could get back to work after maternity leave as an EEG Technologist, and started creating. See our previous chat for the couple’s in-depth discussion on how Writing Battle (“WB”) got started.
The unique structure, engaging graphics, and shining personalities behind Writing Battle were an instant hit, and WB captured my attention from the first Instagram post.
Let’s Meet Writing Battle!
Thanks both of you for coming back for a chat in 2024! I’ve been dying to check in to see how things are going–in general–but especially since you launched the new design. What is your biggest highlight since July? And if you each have a take on that, we’d love to hear both perspectives!
Max: Thanks for having us back, Darci! I think it was the last interview we did with you that we announced a redesign of the site. Cool to do this again a year later and everything is in full swing with the new site. The biggest highlight I think is that this “product” (if you want to call it that) is feeling more and more complete. We’re really just refining at this point and that feels weird in a way since we spent years trying very different battle structures.
Teona: Things are great! We have come leaps and bounds when it comes to restoring some stability to our life when the battle gear comes off. There have been a lot of things that we have been able to put a happy little book-end on so that we can spend more focused time and energy on the business. A highlight for me would be the merch store–it is a part of Writing Battle that I helm and gives me more sense of connection to the community since I’m not a programmer and don’t have much to offer in terms of site features.
Darci: In other words, you both are totally in the groove. Awesome!
We talked about your phenomenal success last summer. There have been two Battles since then. Two of my peeps (a Canadian writing friend and my niece) signed up for the Fall Short Story Battle, which I participated in, and my niece participated in the Winter Flash Fiction event that just ended. So, if every member pulls in just one or two… yikes! This might be a good place to insert that WB’s slogan rocks! Write one. Read ten. Win thousands. Are we talking about exponential growth? What are the overall stats since last summer?
Max: Thank you for spreading the word about Writing Battle! You know, the slogan actually came from the community. If I recall correctly, Cristi Lynn, a previous winner from an early Screenwriting Battle suggested that slogan. She said it on the Forum and I immediately asked if I could use it. When we started these Battles we really thought that the reading part of the contest was going to be a chore. As it turns out, it’s everyone’s favourite part about the contest, so why not highlight the reading aspect.
Teona: Definitely seeing something along an exponential growth curve. It’s still amazing to us! It looks like we might 3X the Spring 2023 Battle. And, like you say, if one person pulls in one or two friends to join in the fun, it really just takes off from there.
Our New Year’s resolution with WB was to make long-term realistic and holistic goals for the year. So instead of saying we need to accomplish X,Y,Z… we set a single goal of 3000 participants for the Autumn Battle. We’re then able to reverse-engineer a path to that goal and then it has been more figuring out what that goal looks like in the shorter term in regards to the Spring and Summer battles. What has been so incredible and exciting has been seeing the numbers for the upcoming Spring Battle SMASHING the shorter goal in place for the Spring. It really looks like there is some snow-balling happening and we are just grateful the site broke when it did last year because there is no way this growth would have been stable or sustainable on the old platform. Our new website handles traffic with ease because it is built on Google’s infrastructure.
Darci: So exciting to hear the numbers! And I love that about the slogan being a community contribution.
A little side story on the fall Battle. I hadn’t been in touch with my niece, Arianna, for a few weeks, and I had no idea she’d participated until a few weeks after it was over. We could easily have ended up critiquing each other’s stories… but we didn’t. Still, the idea that we could have added another fun element to the contest.
Her story was excellent, too. She does audio narration and has a one-minute audio excerpt of The Emperor’s Noose on her website’s project page. I was super happy with my story, Little Shop of Honeybees, as it was my first whodunnit and I enjoyed researching how to write a locked room mystery. Every time I participate, I’m glad I took on the challenge of a new genre I might never have tried otherwise and happier each time with the results.
How is the feedback stacking up since launching the revamped platform? Has the revised structure made a difference in participation aside from the momentum WB had going already?
Max: Absolutely. There were over 3.5 million words of feedback written in the Winter Battle. 1 million of those words were written after the Battle was complete in Debrief. There’s still a lot of improvements to the site coming, but the revamped platform has helped with that.
Darci: Mindboggling!
To get an idea of how far you’ve progressed in the short time since starting up WB, I’m throwing out multiple questions. 😊 Have you reached a place where the business is starting to run itself, or does it still require a lot of hands-on attention? How much of that is the fun stuff, and how much is business? What constitutes both? Is this turning into a full-time business for you both?
Teona: It is definitely turning into a full-time business for the both of us. Our youngest starts school in the fall which means that I will have time in the day to dedicate to WB and to work on things we would like to see evolve in the future. I would say the vast majority of what I do is fun. I think Max will likely say the same. There is a lot of hands-on. There is a LOT of reading–and not just stories. We are constantly on the forums trying to keep an eye on the community to ensure that needs are being met and that members maintain the constructive space we believe WB to be.
Max: I don’t think Writing Battle will ever run itself, but my job as the sole software dev is to build systems that make things easier on Teona and I during a Battle. It is ALL fun. Honestly, I still love every second of every Battle. It’s been a full time business for a while now. We will be building the tools for Forum mods soon, so that will help some of the stress. With so many passionate creatives, you want to put out fires as quickly as possible, so the Forums require a lot of attention. Having a few mods might ease the workload a bit.
Darci: I’m sure I speak for the community when I say your joy comes through and we appreciate all the hard work.
WB opened an online merchandise shop. My Two Crows sweatshirt just arrived! I’m excited about the designs and to have something to show for my battles. Also, being a sticker and planner fanatic, I adored getting your stickers in my happy mail! What a great idea to offer merchandise. How is that going? Will we see more offerings–more designs?
Teona: The merch store has been a lot of fun and I get a little giddy knowing that there are people out in the wild sporting the WB logo! I handle the majority of the merch dealings because it isn’t too time consuming now that it is up and running.
Modeling my Two Crows sweatshirtLove me some stickers!
Once our littlest little starts school, I will have a lot more time to dedicate to expanding options and designs. I have been looking to source pottery mugs and had a prototype made but we are putting a lot of that on hold while we set up our new Tarot Card Decks that will hopefully be ready for purchase on the site late summer. I will let Max get into detail on this…
Max: Actually, I don’t want to go into too much detail because we’re still working on it. But I will say that there will be a card-collecting aspect to the site. You will get digital cards for participating in Battles and then if you order the physical cards, you’ll automatically get all of them digitally.
From My Fall Battle in 2023. Aren’t these amazing genres? The card turned up for me was Locked Room Mystery
Darci: OMG! We get the scoop right here folks. I love the card collecting idea! It shouts “huge hit!” I’m super impressed with my merch, and I must say the customer service was excellent. I can’t wait to see what’s next.
Was it a tremendous undertaking adding a shop?
Teona: Long story short: Max said “I think we need a merch shop. Go.” And after panicking ever so slightly, I learned how to set up a Shopify store and a Printify print-on-demand service. It was very much out of my comfort zone at first (and perhaps a few tears of frustration spilled) but I feel I have a handle on it now and it works quite well!
Darci: You are so totally inspiring, Teona! I see the merch shop exploding in the near future. I’m trying to get up the gumption to add a shop on my website for signed paperbacks. Supposedly it’s as easy to offer a small line as it is for a larger one.
I asked this question last time, and I’ll ask again because I’m sure everyone wants to know. Who’s behind the artwork? How do you come up with so many wonderful ideas and illustrations for the slew of genre cards needed four times a year and for social media marketing?
Max: The Italian tattoo artist, Vincenzo Ingenito, does most of our artwork and he illustrated an entire 78 card tarot deck for us. We are also using Valerie P (@valerie_pl on Fiverr) for a lot of cards. We commissioned a few pieces of art from some folks from our community too. Oh! Someone is getting a Writing Battle inspired tattoo and used Vincenzo as the illustrator. The person that had the art commissioned gave us permission to use the illustration. I can’t wait for people to see it. It’s going to be a cool tattoo!
Darci: This is so fabulous! Thanks for sharing, Max. Check out Writing Battle’s Instagram page to see all the wonderful art and stay posted on everything Max just shared.
Let’s talk about the community. The WB forum is super active, and I love to see that. Do the conversations continue between the Battles?
Max: Things definitely die down in-between Battles in the Forums. I think that will change when we have more of a reason to come back to the site when a Battle is not underway. But you know – in the end, that’s probably healthy. Battles are pretty intense (haha it’s not just the name). People get fairly invested in each one and it’s a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. It’s probably a good thing to take a break and recoup before the next Battle. That being said, we are working on features that might keep more Ravens** engaged in-between Battles. **Our community members now refer to themselves as Ravens which is fairly bad ass.
Darci: That’s about what I expected. I think WB has settled into a very nice ebb and flow with the four yearly Battles.
Teona has been awesome about reading and sharing works by WB’s members and the newsletter is generous with its shoutouts. You’ve truly made it feel like family and it’s clear from your adorable Instagram reels that WB is a family affair in your household. What are some of the other activities going on in the community and what are a few of the recent highlights?
Teona: For a hot second we were going to plan an in-person meet up because we basically wanted an excuse to hang out with WB’s incredible community in person. It fell through because it turned out to be a bit more of an endeavor than we anticipated and I won’t be able to put in the hours for something like that until at least this time next year. We’re now looking at an in-person meet up for 2025!
Darci: Okay, now my heart is really pounding. Another sneak peek at what’s coming! A WB Retreat would be phenomenal!!
What routines have you found to be helpful to keep the productivity and creativity flowing for Writing Battle? Any tips or tricks you can share about staying organized and balanced with other aspects of daily and family life?
Teona: One thing we are looking to set boundaries on this year involves not trying to implement new features during a Battle. The intensity of programming AND running a Battle can take its toll and Max gets completely burnt out and needs time to decompress. So we have “official meetings” at least twice a week. It sounds kinda funny to me since we’re husband and wife and these conversations can happen at any time of day (and they do) but actually setting time aside with the purpose to brainstorm and discuss what’s working and what’s not is so valuable to how we maintain boundaries between work and home lives.
Max: Yeah, no new features while a Battle is underway is going to be huge. The plan is to get a lot done in-between Battles so during a Battle, I can just focus on the community and not coding new features.
Darci: I really appreciate getting a glimpse into what you’ve learned as you grow with Writing Battle.
What advice can you offer to those who would love to leave their mundane jobs to pursue their dreams?
Max: Oh, if you’re reading this and you are thinking about starting your own business or side hustle, go for it! Even if Writing Battle was deemed a failure and shut down for whatever reason, this entire journey would still have been worth it. I’ve met the coolest people and have learned so much from them – and learned a lot about myself. It’s hard work and expect to work long hours, but there is a price to pay for not pursuing your dreams too. I promise that you won’t regret it.
Teona: Have a “yes-buddy” in your corner. There are going to be people who give unsolicited advice and who are going to help you find reasons not to follow a dream. There has to be at least one person in your life who will listen and encourage you without question. And I know for Max and for Writing Battle, this person wasn’t always me… I became a bit more certain about WB when it transitioned from an amorphous and iterative early idea to an actual thing with rules and a schedule. Max’s brother has ALWAYS understood what WB could be way before it was WB.
Great insights, and what a blast it has been catching up. Any parting words of advice?
Max: Thank you, Darci! My parting words of advice would be to reach out to Teona at teona@writingbattle.com if you are someone that is thinking of participating in Writing Battle but are a bit short on cash at the moment. Our amazing community organized a “Spartan Fund” to help fund entry fees. Please reach out to her if this is you or if you know someone that may appreciate a Battle ticket.
Teona: Thanks so much for having us again! We love the questions and are grateful for the opportunity to connect with you and your followers!
Here is a recent Writing Battle short story that I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I did writing it! – My first Whodunit. Writing a mystery was one of those daunting dark tunnels in fiction that I never thought I would travel down but super glad I did thanks to a contest prompt. I had five days and 2000 words to work with, and that included research! Hopefully, I succeed in stumping you! But if not, have fun anyway.😊
Little Shop of Honeybees
By D. L. Lewellyn
Honeybees and a shop full of bright gladiolas, much too cheery a setting for such a dark tragedy unfolding in this twisty whodunit.
###
Detective Orin Denton knelt over the body of the florist and sniffed. Lemons. The smell was predominant despite the flowers filling this charming shop in Old Towne. The deceased, known as Audrey Seymour, a female, age twenty-eight, five-foot-two, one hundred twelve pounds, lay prone by the front door, phone in hand, and covered in angry welts. Her lips distended in a grotesque smile, her swollen tongue protruding beyond them.
It wasn’t hard to pinpoint her killers. Dead bees surrounded her, and more of the little honey beauties buzzed around the shop. He shook his head and glanced again at her ID. Their victim had been a beauty herself, and today was her birthday.
“Charlie, you got the pest guy coming?” he called out.
“Any minute, sir.”
“The one I suggested?”
“None other.”
“Thanks, Charlie. Will you let Mrs. Appleby know the honeybees will be rehomed along with the rest of the hive?”
“You bet, boss.”
Mrs. Appleby lived above the shop. Her balcony was loaded with flower boxes to attract her pets. She’d been the one to show him the large hive constructed by the bees inside the crumbling brick wall by the back door. Further deterioration on the inside of the shop seemed to be how the bees suddenly gained access to the banquet of floral delights.
Denton flipped his notebook while he knelt by the body and scanned the room. The decent-sized space was packed with buckets of flowers, shelves of plants, and a myriad of tasteful decorations. The shop was nestled between a bookstore and a restaurant. Main Street edged the front, an alley ran along the back, and generous windows graced both sides. A wall lined with refrigerated shelves had a vestibule on the other side, which the florist used for an office and where the backdoor and hive were located.
When the first responders arrived an hour earlier, the shop was locked. There were no signs of a break-in.
The elderly Mrs. Appleby had seen no one but the bee victim and her frequent visitor, the ex-boyfriend, the entire day. She’d heard nothing unusual except when Vincent Stubbs, in her words, “Pitched a fit because Audrey continued to resist his charms.” She was horrified to think her babies had done wrong. “I never thought for a minute they would invade her store. I don’t understand how they broke through. Still, the lemongrass should have kept them away.” Good questions, and why Denton’s sleuth senses vibrated.
“Do you know if she had any family?”
“She told me once she was all alone.”
Not quite, he thought. She had her flowers.
The alley-side windows were designed as a greenhouse because Audrey Seymour raised much of her own stock, including lemongrass, which she distilled into essential oils. A search on his phone pulled up a contradiction. Beekeepers touted lemongrass oil for attracting swarms to new locations, while other sites pointed to the home remedy benefits Mrs. Appleby mentioned. A repellent. The oil was also used to preserve cut flowers, especially gladiolas, which the shop had in profusion.
Denton’s gaze rested on the sunny boxes. Gladiola was his wife’s favorite. He pictured the sparkle in her eye if he were to bring home a mixed dozen and imagined all the creative ways she would thank him. He sighed. Thinking of his wife always centered him… letting him listen to the voice of his victim.
Audrey Seymour smelled citrusy. She wore a pretty new dress—new shoes. She’d tried to call for help… and died alone. There had to be more to this than a series of misfortunes.
“Charlie. Is the Coroner on the way?”
“I’m here, Denton,” said a florid, breathless man stepping through the jangling door.
The detective gave the medical official time to examine the body.
“Well?” Charlie prodded.
“The majority of the bites are around her neck. Note the colors of her dress. Bees attack dark colors because they signify a marauder, and necks are a favorite vulnerable target. Her heart gave out from anaphylactic shock.”
“Another reason to admire bees,” Charlie said under his breath. The doc’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry, I was referring to their incredible defense arsenal. Her death was tragic,” Denton said with feeling. “Was she allergic?”
“Severely. Have you found her EpiPen? She had to have one.”
“Charlie?” Denton called over his shoulder.
“Desk drawer,” he called back. “Unused. I also found a torn-up gift box that might belong to the dress. It’s got a store label.”
“Good work, Charlie.”
###
The evidence binder was expanding pretty fast for accidental death, and Denton was flipping through it again as he sat at his scarred, coffee-stained desk—his home away from home.
His junior detective partner sat across from him and handed him one of the three donuts he had on a napkin before eating half a maple bar in one bite.
“Boss, I know that look,” Charlie said after swallowing his doughy breakfast with an impressive amount of coffee. “You’re convinced this wasn’t an accident. What’s spiking that uncanny crime radar off the charts?”
“Her EpiPen, for one, Charlie. We have a sharp business owner who’s deathly allergic to bees working in a shop full of plants that draw them.
“Let’s say lemongrass attracts, though she thinks it repels. Let’s say she had no idea about the beehive outside her door and was careful about inviting insects into her shop. Audrey Seymour had an EpiPen to rely on if the worst happened. People with EpiPens keep them on their person at all times, regardless of the care they take to limit the risks—not in a desk so far out of reach.
“I also think she was waiting for someone to meet her besides Stubbs. Have you tracked down the dress?”
“That’s why I’m here. You’re going to love this.” Denton raised a bushy eyebrow, and Charlie delivered his gift. “A person named Miriam Greene bought that outfit… and another exactly like it.”
“Two sets of identical clothes? What does that suggest to you?”
“Someone wanted to look like our victim.”
“Are the security tapes downloaded yet?”
“Just finished.”
“Let’s take a look, and then we need to track down Greene.”
Charlie cleared his throat.
“I was saving the best for last because I wasn’t sure where your head was at. Vincent Stubbs was picked up on a domestic disturbance six months ago. Audrey never pressed charges.”
###
Denton set a paper cup full of sludgy liquid in front of Vincent Stubbs. The handsome dentist had bags under his red-rimmed eyes that could float a boat.
The detective took his seat, sipped his coffee, and grimaced at the cup as he set it down and cleared his throat.
“According to Mrs. Appleby, you had a habit of showing up at the shop and campaigning loudly for Ms. Seymour to go on a date. Is that a fair assessment?”
“It’s fair,” Stubbs said as he raised his downcast eyes. “I loved Audrey, and she loved me, but I messed up. I’ve been trying to fix it for months. Audrey is… was independent, sassy, and stubborn. I craved every minute with her.” His brow furrowed. “Am I here because you think I killed her? Because I thought it was the bees.”
“No sign of honeybees when you helped her lock up before leaving?”
“Not a single bee buzzed around the shop that day or any other day I was there.”
“Why did you stay so long if you weren’t getting anywhere?”
“I believe I answered that. Being with Audrey was everything to me, even when she was preoccupied with her flowerbeds… She could grow anything. Audrey was the embodiment of life.”
“So, she gardened while you pitched dinner out?”
“Audrey’s hands were always busy with her plants.”
“Did you buy her that dress?”
“No. I asked her about it, though.” Stubbs let Denton see his resentment before adding, “I wanted to know if I should expect someone else to show up because there was something secretive about her that day, and she grew more insistent about me leaving when she closed up.”
“Why were you reported for causing a domestic disturbance?”
Stubbs winced, picked up his coffee, smelled it, and set it down.
“I worked myself up after a few too many when she went out with another guy. Our wires were crossed. I thought we were more committed.”
“Hmmm. It seems you still believe that. Does that shop always smell of lemons?”
“Lemons? She loved her lemongrass. But it was never overwhelming. I… I don’t… What does that signify?”
“Maybe nothing. Did you know it was her birthday that day?”
“Of course, I knew. That’s why I wanted to take her to dinner.” His eyes sank deeper. “Shit! Twenty-eight is too young!” He dropped his head into his hands.
###
“You’ll want to buy me at least two beers for this,” Charlie said as he barreled up to Denton’s desk and waved a thumb drive at him. Denton gave Charlie an expectant grin.
“Greene was messaging Audrey’s phone. They’re cryptic, but one mentions sending Audrey a gift on their special day. I’ve got more. Greene is an alias. She used a burner phone. She wasn’t so careful with the dress receipt. We’re tracking down her fake identities to get to the real name, but…” he paused and waggled his brows in his version of a drumroll, “under one name, she’s wanted for elder abuse… on a large scale. She’s a con artist, boss.”
“Well done, Charlie. We just need to put Greene inside that locked shop and prove she messed around with the hive, and we’ve got murder instead of an accident.” Denton cocked his head. “I’d say from the height of the bounce in your step, you have an address?”
“You ready to take a drive to New Towne?”
Denton glanced again at the enlarged image from the security camera he’d been examining and grabbed his jacket.
The car rolled to a stop in front of a grungy Seventies tract home. The blinds were closed, and the place looked lifeless. “It kills me that New Towne is rundown, and Old Towne is the lively side,” Denton mused. Charlie snorted and opened his door. They approached with caution. Dead places were the most dangerous. Denton knocked, and they waited.
“Ms. Greene?” He called out, using his best cop voice to penetrate the door. “I’m Detective Orin Denton. My partner and I would like to ask a few questions.”
Seconds ticked by. Then footsteps, followed by clicking deadbolts. The door cracked open on a chain. Denton flashed his badge, though he couldn’t see her face. The house was dark, and she hovered in the shadows. He watched for suspicious movements, then laid it on her.
“I’m sorry about the death of your sister, Ms. Greene. Can we talk?”
Charlie’s breath hitched, and his eyes bored into Denton, but Denton had eyes only for the woman who, to his relief, opened the door wider.
It was their victim come to life. Healing stings covered her face, neck, and arms.
“I’ll be damned,” Charlie breathed. “A twin.”
###
After sitting across from Janet Seymour, aka Miriam Greene, Denton spent a full minute staring at her. She stared back.
“So… you thought becoming Audrey would get you out of trouble?”
She shrugged. “I gambled on an opportunity.”
“You were a perfect match on the security cameras.”
“Took weeks of planning, but worth it to confront the sister who made our dying mother send me to Juvie.” Her eyes turned flat. “Once I discovered the beehive, the rest was easy. I dowsed her with a homemade lemongrass lure, pickpocketed her EpiPen, and pretended to need the toilet so I could use the heel of my shoe to open the hole in the brick the bees had started.
“But it all went wrong,” Denton concluded. “My sister didn’t want me to die. Go figure.” Janet snorted and sat back. “She shoved me out the door and locked it even as she succumbed. I used my EpiPen while I watched through the window.” Her eyes gleamed. “How did you know there was a twin? Was killing her on our birthday over the top? Because I wondered about that.”
If you would like to support an independent author who loves to share her stories, this story along with an eclectic anthology of more fun tales is available for 99 pennies at your favorite bookstore. Thank you!
Me and my Pod People packed up to petsit for two weeks.
I had the idea I would get to play with two amazing, adorable three-year-old brother bulldogs while I enjoyed a writing retreat, away from my own home and all the responsibilities. Somewhere quiet without interruptions.
The first part came true. I had so much fun with Mack and Elway. See? I pooped them out.
My Pod People? They still got a little air time over the keyboard but mostly they clamored around in my head. Still, my charges were so good, they let me sit for a couple interviews, and create a new story for a group project. I hadn’t thought about pet sitting as a retirement perk. But coming up with new things to do is what it’s all about, right?
This was my biggest writing hiatus since I started three years ago! But look at them. It was worth it. First day back home, and I miss them.
This was my week for the dreaded “R” word. Rejected twice in seven days. I thought I’d chat about about how that makes me feel and what I’ll be doing about it. Maybe you all can relate and it will give you a boost to know that you’re not alone.
People who experienced rejection as more painful were more likely to change their behavior, remain in the tribe, and pass along their genes.
I’ll start by saying that this whole fiction writing journey has been a complete surprise and only started three years ago. I’ve been a steamroller ever since. That is the most surprising part because most of my life I’ve been a dabbler. I love to create, but I’ve never stuck with any one thing long enough to become expert.
I’m now a bulldog about a craft I’ve developed a surprising passion for… in my 50s. What? How did that happen? I’ll get it into the idea of late-blooming passions more in a future article. Today, I’m focusing on dealing with rejection.
So, when the results go unseen, unappreciated, or are outright rejected, the feelings go deep, right to the gut. Maybe that was why I always dabbled. No risk. Well, I’m opening myself up to all the poundings now… and having the time of my life.
Both of these rejections I’d prepared myself for and even planned my next steps. Doing this I was sure would help me cope with the blow. It does, and it doesn’t, and I’ll tell you why.
First. It was still a gut punch.
This TED article provides the reasons why we feel rejection so deeply. So, I’ll point you to it because you really need to read it and it explains things much better than I can.
As for me, I really thought that I wouldn’t feel rejection as deeply in my 50s, convinced life experience, maturity, whatever you want to call it, would be my buffer. Instead, my first reaction when I get that “Thank you for your submission to… Unfortunately…” message is to cry and rant.
Then my jaw juts out and my backup plans kick into action. But the plans don’t go forward in a vacuum. Each rejection is a major learning experience. I love to learn, and I love to apply it to my work. It proves just as Mr. Winch describes in his article, that pain equals survival. It’s motivation. It changes behavior. And leads to success. Just be open to the idea that success comes in all sorts of ways each time you push through another rejection.
So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that the pain is short-lived. I waist little time before turning back into a steamroller, and I can move on with honing my craft. And that’s why I’m enjoying the heck out of this ride.
It occurred to me that the comments from the amazing contributors at AutoCrit are technically a book review. Huh! Not sure why I didn’t think of it that way until now.
This happy moment starts at 24.43. But all the writers who made the anthology deserve a listen.
AutoCrit is a great editing platform and I wouldn’t have grown as a writer without it and the community.
Priss Starwillow & the Wolf is available at your favorite sellers.
By D. L. Lewellyn 