Smashing Boundaries

This was written for the the six-sentence-story prompt BLANKET by girlontheedge. I went to the dark places with this prompt. It has warnings for violence, attempted assault, mentions of sexual assault and could be triggering to you. Please do not read if this will cause you harm, and to the rest of you, read at your own risk.


She looked at the blood pouring from his nose and felt no regret, only the shear satisfaction of a hit well placed.

She had started by saying no and stop, as his hands moved under her pants, but he hadn’t listened, grabbing her arm as she pulled away, saying that she had kissed him, that she shouldn’t be a tease. She knew that she didn’t have long, so she didn’t hesitate, she didn’t think, she just planted her feet.

She pulled away as much as she could and when he tugged her arm again, she came back at him, but not the way he wanted. Her fingers formed a fist, and as she moved she threw her bodyweight behind the punch, flinching in pain is in made contact with the bones of his face and she hoped the cracking she heard was his bones yielding and not her own, but the while hot pain in her hand said maybe both.

He screamed ,calling her crazy, a stupid bitch, and she knew there would be hell to pay for this tomorrow, social suicide committed to save herself a far worse fate and as he demanded she explain herself she said only that there was no such thing as blanket consent.

Ready or Not?

This is a fairly short story I wrote about two girls getting ready to go out on the town. Will admit there is a little more going on in this one than first appears, and you might catch some clues if you read it closely. There will be a microfiction follow up next week. Sorry that this one is late, but I now have next week up and ready to go as well so I should be good for a little. Nano is getting me. But at 36,000 words, so I guess it’s worth it!


“What do you think of this one?” She held up a yellow dress for her companion to see.

“I dunno, seems a little seventies to me, but that might be back in. I am kinda shit for fashion.” Daria replied honestly, more one for books that clubbing.

Cri seemed consider it a moment, before tossing it aside. “Ya, you’re right. Good news, that place over on 6th has a seventies night, I can wear it then. Hmmm, what about this one?” She asked.

“That looks great.” Daria replied not looking up. A shoe hit her upside the head and she yelped. “Jesus Cri, what the hell!”

“You weren’t looking Dari, and I need your help with my outfit.”

“You always look good.”

“I know, but I don’t want to just look good, I wanna look amazing, drop dead gorgeous, if you pardon the pun. And I need your help. Please Dari.” Cri started to pout, and Daria yielded.

“Fine, I don’t see why you can’t just take some selfies and pick from them” Daria muttered as she set her book aside.

“Angles dear, angles, even the selfie stick can’t give you a really good idea of what you look like. I mean I could get you to take pictures of me, but really, wouldn’t it just be easier to look for two minutes.” Her voice rose at the end, and Daria winced a little at the pitch.

“I am looking, that outfit makes you look desperate. Sure you want my help?” Daria deadpanned.

Cri threw it aside with a sniff, and started to paw through the pile on her bed. “Ooh, ohh, this one, this one!”

Daria looked her up and down and nodded. “Ok, that one, is pretty awesome.”

Cri grabbed another outfit from the pile. “And this?”

It was nice, but “Not really your style.

Cri laughed. “Not for me silly, for you.”

“Wait, what, why for me? Why do I need an outfit at all?”

“Cause you are coming with me, obviously.”

Daria’s brow furrowed. “No, I don’t see how that would be obvious. I hate clubbing Cri, like hate it with a capital H. And all I do crimp your style. Why would you even want me there?”

“Your my sister Dar, I love you. And well, you haven’t been out of the house in a long time, too long if you know what I mean. I am not gonna just let you waste away because of your vaulted ethics. You don’t have to like, go all the way or anything, but you gotta keep yourself healthy, and staying in like you are, isn’t that.” Cri took a deep breath, and smiled again. “So you are coming out with me, whether you like it or not. We will find you a stupid boy, and you can take him out back and have your way with him. Got it?” Cri demanded, and Daria wilted a little under it the weight of her stare.

Cri wasn’t wrong. Daria knew that staying in like this, it wouldn’t end well for her. She picked up the outfit, with her finger tips, holding it out like it smelled.

Daria let out a sigh. “It’ll do I guess.”

Cri let out a squeal! “That’s the spirit. Now go get dressed. It’s almost 10, and if we want a chance of getting someone we need to get there before midnight.”

“Thats in two hours, and its like what, 20 minutes from here, what’s the rush?“ Daria asked allowing herself to be pushed towards the bathroom.

“Hair, makeup, shoes, god Dari, are you even a girl?” Cri chastised as she shut Daria in. “Its okay, I can fix it so you look really good.”

Daria let the implied insult go, and went about the act of getting ready. She had to admit that she looked good in the selfie that Cri posted of them about to leave the house, and she was hungry. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a waste after all.

Blocked Writing

Oh my, I just realized I never made this post. I am so sorry, this has become a victim of Nanowrimo. The great news is my Nano is going well, at the half way point I am past the 70% mark. This is something I wrote during nano, about writing. Those of us who are full of ideas when they have no time and have no ideas when they have time will get this one.


I cannot write.

It is not writer’s block, as the words flow freely. The ideas spring to life begging to be let out as quickly as I can write them down.

It is life that prevents me from writing. The never ending cycle of shopping, cooking, cleaning, eating, working, keeps me from my keyboard, even as I long to do nothing but write all day, everyday.

Everything I do, every step of the day is to lead me back to this place, to the space where I can create. Any yet I know if I were to quit my job tomorrow and sit here all day, I would never write another word again.

Phantom Legs

Okay, this one is just creepy and well it involves bed bugs. I dunno what was going on with this one. I am absolutely dead from Nanowrimo, and I am only a little over 1/3 there. OH, this is for the prompt ARMOUR, from girlontheedge’s six-sentence-story.


I can feel them crawling on my skin, and even though when I check I can see that there is nothing there, there is no way I can sleep here without some armour to protect me. The idea of being eaten as I sleep keeps my eyes wide, as the animal part of my brain screams not to allow myself to be prey.

The traps I set out are empty, all of them indicating that there is no infestation here, but the woman with whom I share a wall was so certain that I am sure that it is my traps that are faulty. The clothing goes away in sealed bags, the lower shelves emptied, and covers placed upon my varied upolstery to prevent invasion had it not already occured.

I spend the hours I should be sleeping with the lights on, checking and rechecking the internet, looking for different ways to fend off those that want to make my home theirs. The exterminator comes, and goes, and states that one thing is certain; the woman with whom I share a well is insance, because there are no bugs here