Utter Tohubohu – Flash Fiction, MLMM Wordle 252

Like water caresses the streambed rocks, the mention of his crimes in the newspapers caressed his black heart. Carefully he clipped them all out to save in his well filled scrapbook. He got a kick out of knowing his artful displays had left the police in utter tohubohu. He’d left them no clues to follow.

He took pride in his time consuming careful preparations. Ruminating over every angle. Never acting impetus due to desire or need. Just as his master had taught him.

So he was extremely surprised when the continued news reporting and the media nicknaming him the Hieronymus Bosch killer, made him itch to complete a new art piece soon.

© RedCat

I might have read too many crime novels lately.

Click here to read other stories by me.

Written for Wordle #252 at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. 

Tohubohu– a state of chaos, confusion


First – The Last Judgment 

Second – Fall of the Damned

Both by Hieronymus Bosch via WikiMedia Commons

August Approaches – A Puente Poem

As August approaches,

in a golden sweltering haze

Impostor-syndrom encroaches,

trapping in this self-loathing maze

I’ve lived here for ages,

familiar with its confounding ways

Seen my dreams turn to ashes,

evaporate as hopelessness blaze

~ I’ve made new choices,

now can I the changes face ~

As August approaches,

in golden sweltering haze

Thoughts of breaking free encroaches,

I have to burn this thorny self-doubt gorse maze

Learn and evolve as I ages,

find new self-caring and nurturing ways

I will rise from the ashes,

remade by this creative blaze


Flowers Hermitage in Winter from Wikimedia Commons

I should be asleep, but can’t because all thoughts swirling. Realized after reading others poetry, that writing the turmoil out probably where a better way than watching tv.

So sat by candlelight, watching the moon and poured it on paper.

Written for First Line Friday over at Mindlovemisery Menagerie.

Stechginster Blaetter from Wikimedia Commons

Flower to my eye – A Sonett


He was a man of luxurious means
Always able to indulge his fancies
Living life fit for the glossy magazines
He had no time for wind singing through trees

Away on one of his impulsive journeys
One day he met the girl of his dreams
Seeing her his restless soul appeased
Her warm smile like caressing sunbeams

Yet, he found her wants as elusive as moonbeams
She didn’t desire being a spoiled jetset wife
To her happiness from nature’s wonders stream
Irreconcilable differences lost him the love of his life

To never forget that money can’t happiness buy
He daily puts a flower next to his eye


Written for Poetics: The Proverbial at dVerse and inspired by the photo challenge at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.

The photo led me to thinking of two different proverbs.

Apple of my eye

“Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid’s archery,
Sink in apple of his eye”.

Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night’s Dream.


Stop and smell the roses

Photo by Thoa Ngo on Unsplash

There’s A Rumor – MLMM, Wordle 251

There’s a rumor among the critics and saboteurs in my head
Petrifying my scarred heart
Running icy tendrils down my neck
Designed to make the little girl inside all verklempt

Because the paralysing nightshade poison of the rumor has been proven true
This girl has never been like the neurotypical you

Ostracization and isolation leaves wounds in our energetic bodies
Removing peel by peel of everything you thought true
Providing constant suction on the life force
Until it’s so low, you start thinking death is a viable option

But don’t jump off that bridge just yet
No life’s fate is in stone set
Hidden among the neurodiversity are your secret weapons
An armory full to keep you safe whatever happens


Written for Wordle #251 at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Verklempt- overly emotional and unable to speak.

I’ve touched upon this before. Both with hints and straight out like in, Another Piece of the Puzzle – A Puente Poem. I apparently have Adhd/Add and ASD/AST.

Some days it makes me furiously angry to be diagnosed this late in life, due to the fact that I’m female and do not fit typically into either diagnosis. Other days I feel immensely sad for the little girl who never understood at all why she couldn’t fit in however much she tried.

Some days it feels like a brand forever excluding me from friendship and love. Other days I realize a lot of my strengths stem from my neurodiversity. My very quick witted mind which others both adore and dislike. My propensity for thinking very deeply about things, which has enabled me to write insightful business reports and papers and allows me to write poetry that touches the hearts of others.

Wrote this to allow myself and others the knowledge that the struggle is real. But that each of us have value and worth. And all of us are deserving to be loved for those we are!

If you yourself are struggling, or know someone who is. Encourage them to get help. To talk to someone. Or drop a line to me either in the comment section or to the mail address you’ll find in the about page.

I’ve Been Stuck

I’ve been stuck
Going neither forward nor back
Running in circles
Trapped in this inbetween space
Waiting for change
Lost in this way station place

Stationary, yet running around
Collecting stationery, but never writing a line
Screaming myself hoarse
Unable to harness my creative force
Muse hiding, afraid of more abuse
Shying away, like a spooked horse, whenever anyone got near

Now a path has opened, vivid and clear
My inner Goddess always near

I found out, you see
I’m willing to fight doubt and monsters to be free


Inspired by some reawakened inner turmoil and three different prompts. Sammi Cox’s weekend writing prompt. This weekend’s given word is vivid, and the word count is 89 words. Mindlovemisery’s double take, where the homophones horse and stationary are given. And this Wednesday’s scribbling, waystation, at Poets and Storytellers United, which I missed so posting to the Writers’ Pantry instead.

Homophone sets:

horse – animal
hoarse – lack of voice


stationery – pen, paper, envelope etc.
stationary – still, unmoving

Photo by Dan Asaki on Unsplash

Goodbye, I don’t want to see you go! – Lyric

I’ve been in love with you for a long time
And in my mind I know such love, are hard to find
I wish I had my love more clearly shown
Goodbye, I don’t want to see you go!

I can feel it in my heart
How you want to be apart
You’re all I ever wanted, yet I wrecked and crushed your heart
Cause I know I let you down
And I know I betrayed your trust
When I should have shown you how much, I love you

I’ll miss the naughty sparkle in your eyes
It makes me cry hot tears to know I’ll never see your secret smile
I wish I could go back and let you know
Goodbye, I don’t want to see you go!

Cause I know I did you wrong
I can’t seem to make it right
You’ll leave me very lonely
I’ll never love someone like you
Tell me how to win you back
For I haven’t got a clue
But let me start by saying, I love you

Goodbye, I don’t want to see you go!
Cause I know I did you wrong
I can’t seem to make it right
You’ll leave me very lonely
I’ll never love someone like you
Tell me how to win you back
For I haven’t got a clue
But let me start by saying, I love you


Written for Hello, It’s Me You’re Looking For – Challenge #187 at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Where we’re asked to 

“focus on this song and use it for a short story, a piece of flash fiction, or a poem that you can share”

The song is Lionel Richie’s Hello, It’s Me You’re Looking For from 1983. Lionel Richie was a favorite of my mother so I listened quite a lot to him as a child, and liked both the longing for love songs and the happy “dancing on the ceiling” type songs. 

Listening to it as I took a walk this afternoon I got the idea to try to keep the same kind of longing, but flipping the script from an imagined love to one that is over. The inspiration for that comes from someone near who has made a mess out of his marriage and doesn’t know how to take even the first steps to save it.

After a few more repeats I got it into my head to try to keep to the melody and write an alternate lyric. It helps to know the song by heart, meaning I’m able to keep the melody in my mind and write line for line new ones. After very much debate I left the last two lines of the chorus as in the original, because frankly I couldn’t write anything better. 

I’ve included a link to an instrumental version for those that like to try and sing the lyrics!

Photo by Geran de Klerk on Unsplash.
Title – Lost in the woods.
Location – Nynäshamn, Sweden

Forbidden Cave – A Story Poem

Raychan on Unsplash

She knew the cave was for acolytes forbidden.
It was said it could render a person utterly mad.
But if it was truly dangerous, wouldn’t it be better hidden?
Her curiosity evaporated any hesitation she might have had.

The stone carvings were massive, reaching beyond the light of her torch.
It fluttered, spluttered and gasped in the airless cave.
With a quick spell she summoned light from her sorceress brooch.
Took a breath from the air-sack that would her life save.

With a frown she studied the carvings, so intricate and complex.
Surely they belonged to the ancient astrology.
Or they meant nothing, only carved to vex and perplex.
Born out of a mad woman’s deranged fantasy.

She sat down to meditate, seeing if she could find any meaning at all.
With a burst of insight the meaning to her occurred.
The truth nearly obliterated her mind, made her skin crawl.
They were incantations meant to summon eldritch horrors from another world.

© RedCat

Diana Parkhouse on Unsplash

Written for Wordle #247 at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.

Stone Carvings

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The Cafe – Flash Fiction

The cafe began to feel like her only real home. A place that with or without known people made her feel less alone. A place where no one objected if her curious, quirky, whip-smart personality shone. She spent whole days sitting at a table. For the first time feeling she might be able to have friendships and camaraderie. At night she dreamt she’d stumble into a fable.

So what did the story teach? That her agile, perspicacious mind made her prone to the Jante law breach. That her fiery passion would make her for the unconventional way reach. 
She spent her days in her home away from home. Writing stories with elfs, fairies, unicorns and gnomes. Composing poetry that made her heart and soul the universe roam.

© RedCat

Wanted to write but lacked inspiration, so went on an internet trawl. Found this prompt to inspire me. The line given in this week’s First Line Friday at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.

The line being:

The cafe began to feel like her only real home.

Including I word I learned today, perspicacity /ˌpəːspɪˈkasɪti/ meaning the quality of having a ready insight into things; shrewdness.

Click here to read other stories by me.

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