"My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence." – Doyle
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June 13, 2025

Fiction: A disorderly dinner

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by Hilary Melton-Butcher and is hosted at Elephant's Child over here. This week's prompts are: tennis, Turkish, delight, melon, brook and/or officers, steps, conclusion, earliest, pan, asparagus.
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Fiction: A disorderly dinner
The asparagus had gotten cold but no one dared to leave any on their plate. A bird cry rang out 9 o'clock. The guests were fidgeting in their seats, widening their shirt collars, rolling up their sleeves, tying up long hair and fanning their faces. Did Mariel turn off the air conditioner? It was her house and no one liked to dispute her.
    This dinner was to celebrate Frank's return home. All 31 family members were there. As they started on the tomato soup, a few whispered conversations began.
    A little later, the clock struck ten with another bird cry. They all turned to glance at it, most wishing it was time to leave.

June 05, 2025

Fiction: The almanac of motherly advices

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by Hilary Melton-Butcher and is hosted at Elephant's Child over here. This week's prompts are: almanac, vegetables, smoke, rocky, pursuit and/or tides, data, pearly, block, hedge.

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Fiction: The almanac of motherly advices
In the almanac of motherly advices given to her by her grandmother, June Apples searches for the answer to her dilemma. She runs a finger down the index under F for fights but there is none so she flips back a few pages and searches the A's for arguments and turns toward the particular page.
    If your husband or partner hits you and blames you for doing something wrong when you didn't, strike back.
    She has been correct. Looking down at her unconscious husband on the floor, she smiles. The set of frying pans Paul got for her 30th birthday has been useful after all. Now, should she eat dinner first or take Paul to the hospital?
    As she washes the vegetables, she ponders why she regrets marrying Paul. He, not only demands his meals ready for him every day, he also expects her to keep their apartment clean with barely enough money to purchase a bottle of bleach or even an orange. On weekends, she has to help entertain the brothers' friends who eats and drinks freely and never pays either brothers anything. A housekeeper would have done the same things but she would probably get paid while June can't even get a dollar for a band-aid.
    The almanac says marriage makes people happy but June doesn't seem to be one of them. She wonders if her pursuit of happiness should have involved marriage. As she eats the chicken and vegetable casserole, she tries not to breathe in the scent of Paul's cigars which he smokes once a day.
    When she is finished clearing away the dishes, the doorbell rings. June hesitates in answering. The clock on the livingroom wall says five minutes after nine - the time when Paul's older brother comes for his weekly visits.
    Junes walks over toward Paul lying on the couch with a blanket over him. She holds a finger under his nose. Faint air. Still alive. She pulls the blanket over his head. He doesn't like sleeping with the lights on.
    She suddenly recalls watching the tides while sitting alone on the sand on the beach. The water had looked like pearly gems, sparkling under the bright sunlight. But then the clouds came and blocked the lights and made everything dull and lifeless. That day was June's tenth birthday and her family's promise to spend a day with her on the beach was forgotten because the light breeze was too much for June's nine-year-old brother, James, even though a wind machine couldn't have budged James' oversized body. June refused to leave so they just left her. It was the eighth time they left her alone on her birthday. She didn't know why she kept hoping they would change but that day, she stopped waiting.
    June dismisses the memory and picks up the largest frying pan and proceeds to open the door. Rocky, with his wide eyes on the verge of popping out, stalks inside. June closes the door.
    "How are you doing, sister?" he says. His sneer makes her want to slap him. He moves closer to her and opens his arms wide. "How about some sisterly love for your brother?"
    "Sure," she says and strikes him on the head with the frying pan. He falls to the floor, unconscious. Her fingers weakens and the pan slips from her hands and lands on the wooden floor with a loud bang. Did she give him too much sisterly love? She checks his pulse. Nope. Just right.
    Paul has always hedged on the issue of Rocky molesting her. He keeps saying Rocky is just being brotherly. June had let it go thinking when Paul gets promoted, they can afford to move to their own house and away from Rocky's charity as it is his apartment building they are living in but it has been four years and Paul has yet to get that promotion.
    After a few moments of frozen fear, June walks back to the table where she has left the almanac. With a shaking hand, she flips the pages until she finds the answer. When you're in trouble and you doubt what to do, go on vacation. Yes, the almanac is right. She needs a vacation. Perhaps Hawaii or some small island where people still uses real phones and mail takes a few weeks to get anywhere.
    Without hesitation, she takes a spoon from the kitchen and enters the bathroom. Kneeling on the floor, she pries the tile up by the toilet and lifts out from the hole the plastic-wrapped bundle of cash and puts the tile back in place with bits of toothpaste to make it stick. Back out in the livingroom, she takes Rocky's keys from his jacket pocket and marches out of the apartment and next door to Rocky's where she does the same thing. The brothers often share the same habits as taught by their father.
    Back at the apartment, June finishes with her packing and drags the suitcase toward the door but pauses to glance at Paul and Rocky. Has she become a statistic? There was a show she had seen about spousal behaviors and the data revealed most violent crimes are committed by a spouse against another spouse. Statistic or not, she's not a killer. She takes out Paul's phone from his pants pocket and calls for an ambulance. In the future, she will never marry again. No marriage is worth going through hell.

June 03, 2025

IWSG June 2025: Short Author Bios

I often read those short author bios (or what I call mini bios) at the end or at the beginning of a book or the back of book jackets and find them quite easy to read but to write them is not so easy. How can you write a couple of sentences (under 200 words or less) and give people a basic portrait of who you are? I have noticed most bios consisted of these things: your name, education, job title and function, experience, accomplishments/accolades, where you live, something personal and usually written in third person. But these bios change with the author so accolades are added later and any changes to the author's life is also reflected. How creative and what you choose to share is up to you but I have noticed most bios are straight forward with bare information. For me, I would put only things that I'm comfortable to share.
    Here are some drafts of my author bio. If you feel incline, give me your honest thoughts on them and pick the one you think is the best. (M. Faith is my pen name.)

~ 01 ~
A transplant New Yorker, M. Faith often likes to believe she is a high-functioning and quiet introvert but shares her bias thoughts freely on her blog. While not working as a graphic designer, she spends a bit too much time roaming the web. When she is writing, she is often lost in whatever wormholes she may hypothetically find while pursuing a character who may have a penchant for disappearing into thin air.

~ 02 ~
M. Faith is a graphic designer by day and by night (and all other free hours), she is a multi-task blogger with a penchant for writing paranormal stories full of obstinate heroines and disguised good guys. A transplant New Yorker, she rarely leaves home but loves to travel around the internet.

~ 03 ~
M. Faith is a public-school educated graphic designer, writer, artist, blogger, procrastinator and sometimes rebel. She lives in New York and has never wandered too far from home but likes to travel when writing, often going off to worlds full of paranormal beings and highly obstinate heroines.

~ 04 ~
M. Faith is a transplant New Yorker who graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. Currently working as a graphic designer, she spends her free time running a personal blog where she complains too much and shares her artworks and short fictions. Sometimes when she has the motivation, she writes stories with a penchant for the paranormal, the weird and the mildly amusing.

~ 05 ~
M. Faith is a lifelong introvert with a history of talking too much on the internet especially on her blog. She is a life-long book lover with a penchant for writing paranormal stories with weird and highly stubborn heroines.

How would you write your mini bio? I invite you to write your mini bio in the comments or on your blog.

  
[More about the Insecure Writer’s Support Group blog here]