Another Flash Fiction Win at Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads!

ThursThreads WinnerSiobhan had other responsibilities to attend to last week, so the contest was postponed. This week I received first prize from the gracious Cat Johnson, who gave her time to act as judge. I thank her and all the amazing participants. Way to go to the Honorable Mentions as well.

Here is my entry:

Years of tobacco smoke and stale liquor assaulted my senses as I heaved open the wooden door of the old saloon and entered. Modern times did away with the batwing doors from the Westerns I’d watch as a kid. A shame, really. It was much harder to imagine a crook in his ten gallon hat, jangling spurs, and twin pistols pulling open a cumbersome door like this before escaping on his horse. The lawmen would’ve always won the day. And where would be the fun in that?

As a “law man” myself, I’d rather have a challenge. But that’s me. And those were the movies. This saloon was real – real enough to be a historical landmark in the small town of Branch where I worked.
Complete with honest-to-goodness cowboys, too.

At the end of the brass-edged bar stood one I’d never seen before – with a mop of disheveled, midnight black hair, trim hips, and an ass that filled out his faded Levi’s enough to make my heart pound.
“Who’s the new guy?” I asked Paul, who played bouncer on nights like these.

Paul’s eyes followed my gaze to the sculpted back of said man, who chose that moment to turn and catch me mid-stare. I smiled at his chiseled features and he slowly turned back, seemingly unimpressed.

“Name’s Russ from what I hear,” Paul said. “And he runs alone.”

“We’ll see about that.” I removed my hat, polished my badge, and made my way over with a grin.


Check out the rest of the entries here.

Flash Fiction Thursday

VentiCoffeeYou know what day it is? Friday! And that means yesterday was Siobhan Muir’s weekly flash fiction contest #ThursThreads.

Here is my entry:

“Venti coffee. Dark. No room, please.” His deep voice raced through my entire body, leaving tracks of gooseflesh in its wake. I imagined that same voice whispering a desperate and breathy “please…” in my ear as he bent me over the counter in carnal lust.

I shook off the fantasy. Damn, I needed to get laid. How long had it been? Weeks? Months? A year, maybe? My dick had forgotten what it was like to be touched for Christ’s sake. And now I was getting hard from a customer’s voice? Just great.

When I looked up to see what heavenly being could possibly be attached to that sexy baritone, sparkling green eyes met mine. And winked.

I held onto the cash register for support as I input his order, my cheeks on fire. “Any…anything else, sir?” I asked, adjusting my apron nervously.

The suggestive smile and gentle shrug of his shoulders – broad shoulders, might I add – told me all I needed to know. My mouth went dry.

He gave me the exact change for his coffee and my co-barista, Terry, placed his order on the counter in front of him. Before I could form words to respond he had picked up his cup and walked out the door, turning back once to catch my eye.

“What are you waiting for?! Go get the man!” Terry demanded, grabbing the money from me and shoving me hard toward the door.

I could have kissed her. But instead, I ripped off my apron and took off after him.


Check out all the week’s entries here.


I Did It Again! Honorable Mention in Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads

ThursThreads HMI can’t believe I managed to snag another honorable mention for Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads! Thank you to George Varhalmi for giving his time as a judge and to Siobhan for dutifully hosting this event every week.

Here’s my entry for the week:

“Where do you think you’re going!?” Her voice boomed like a thunder clap.

I glanced up from my suitcase as she hurried into my room.

“Well?! Answer me, Michael!”

The rage no longer fazed me. I knew it came from somewhere deep and ugly and sad. She lashes out because she’s scared. I used to be afraid of her, but now I just feel sorry for her.
“I’m moving out, Mom.” I continued to pack my clothes, ignoring the tension in her angry stance.

She laughed. “Oh please. You won’t last a day on your own.”

“I’m eighteen,” I said, folding a pair of shorts.” And, I’m moving in with Jared.”

Her wild eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “How dare you tarnish our family name by living in sin.” She looked me up and down with such hatred, I thought she might spit at me.

“Because we’re not married? Or because we’re gay?” I asked, sarcastically, and moved over to the closet.

“You’re not gay,” she growled.

This time I laughed. “Really, Mom?” I held up a t-shirt with a rainbow on it. “You would not listen the first time I told you, but it’s getting old now.”

I threw the shirt at her. “Keep this. Hopefully one day you’ll finally get it.”


Check out all the great stories from the week here.

Another Honorable Mention in Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads

ThursThreads HMI’m thrilled once again to receive honorable mention in Siobhan Muir’s Flash Fiction Challenge #Thursthreads. I’ve made it a weekly habit to participate because it’s a great writing exercise. I never thought I could write anything worthwhile in 250 words, but this challenge and my fellow competitors have inspired me to do just that.

Thank you to the judge this week, Marla Monroe, and to all the other amazing writers that took part in the contest.

Check out all of the entries for the week here.

I hope you enjoy my entry:

“You know, this is just like you to do something without thinking first!”

Brad’s voice rose to that high pitch Neil could barely stomach. Like wool over dry skin it made him shudder and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

Brad on the other hand had a flair for arguing. If it wasn’t the ever increasing tone of his voice, it was the wild hand gestures and expressive body language that made Neil think Brad enjoyed fighting. The expletives would come near the end, when Brad was ready to close the curtain on his little drama and begin with the making up. Neil hoped that would be soon.

“What?” Neil turned back to unloading the bag of groceries. “I only invited him because he put me on the spot.”

“But he’s your ex! And a real shitty one, too.”

Expletive number one. Thank god the end was near.

“You don’t even care do you?” Brad asked.

Neil refused to turn around and play into his game. He held his tongue.

“You know I can’t stand him, but that doesn’t seem to make any difference to you.” Brad’s shoes echoed on the kitchen tile behind Neil. The scrape of the barstool told him he had sat down. “Do you ever consider my feelings?”

Neil took a deep breath. This was going nowhere fast.

“I want to break up,” Brad said, forcing the last word out.

Neil whirled around, the air suddenly dashed from his lungs. No…

Winner of Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads

ThursThreads WinnerI’ve been chosen as the winner of Siobhan Muir’s Flash Fiction Contest!! The judge for this week, Katalina Leon, had such lovely things to say about my story and the entire group of entries. I’m so pleased to be a part of #ThursThreads!

Here is my entry:

“Your lips are incredible,” I murmured, Mick’s mouth traveling down my chest and over my stomach, his kisses searing my skin.

My breath hitched as he brushed his rough cheek against my hip bone. He slid a finger slowly down the crease of my groin and my cock pulsed, waiting anxiously for his touch.

“You sure this is the one?” He asked, tracing lazy circles on the inside of my thigh with his callused thumb, making it difficult to think. I raised my head to find him staring at my hip.

I should have known he would see it, even in the dim light of the bedroom.

When we had met, Mick had told me he didn’t like tattoos. And though all of mine are hidden from public view (and he was so hot), I didn’t lie. Apparently, he had found that refreshing and asked me out anyway. We’ve been on nearly five dates now and I’m falling for him.

He didn’t seem to mind the other tattoos, but I worried about the design on my hip. It’s a pink lotus flower and I got it to represent the joy of expressing myself as a gay man. I told Mick as much, but he’s so big and burly and hard that I figured he’d hate it.

I finally nodded, resigning myself to his forth-coming disapproval.

“You made it sound like I would burst into pink flames if I saw it.” He snorted. “This is…sweet, sexy, and beautiful. Just like you.”


Please check out all of the stories for the week here.