A Writer's Life for Me

Anything and everything that inspires me and my writing. Or just makes me laugh. To actually read some of my writing, scroll down to read my flash fiction or check out my Wattpad, @rsjones97. I take prompts and edit requests in my ask.

[cabbage-and-friends]

The Body in the Booty

“Guys, wait up! My bag’s caught on something!”

My gang of pirates circle back, eyeing my candy bag. Two of my friends grab my arms, and we yank the bag free. But the bag’s not all we got.

A real severed finger is stuck to my bag, the hand it belongs to reaching for us.

[cabbage-and-friends]

When the Dead Walk

There are certain things you say because they’ll never happen, like pigs flying or a zombie apocalypse. Well, I take them back. Everything like that I’ve ever said. Every. Single. One. Because I was wrong. Zombies are real, and they want to eat me.

In fact, they’re banging on my door right now. Meanwhile, Greg and I are trying to get my bedroom window open.

“Come on,” I say, stealing a glance at the door. It’s rattling. The frame looks about ready to give.

“It’s stuck,” Greg says. His face is turning purple as he strains to lift the window.

I push him aside. “Then we’ll just break it.” I slam the butt of my dad’s hunting rifle into the glass. It shatters on the first try.

“Mom and Dad are gonna kill you.”

I gape at him. “Seriously? You think they’re gonna care more about the broken window than the zombies busting down the door?”

“You have a point,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, now go.” I nod toward the window.

“Why do I have to go first?”

“Because I’ve got the gun, and that door’s about to give.” To emphasize my point, the door jumps in its frame again. Cracks are growing between the frame and the wall.

Greg sighs and picks up my old Little League bat. I always joked we needed to keep it around in case of a zombie apocalypse. Who knew I’d be right.

I keep the rifle trained on the door as Greg crawls out onto the roof. “Uh, Grant?”

I turn my back on the door, peering out onto the roof where Greg is perched. My mouth opens to say something, but my jaw drops instead.

“Got any other great ideas?” Greg asks.

Before I can answer, my door finally bursts open. Clumsy feet thud across the floor. I scramble out the window, joining Greg on the roof. Together, we take in the scene below us.

Zombies. Everywhere. All over the yard, shuffling in and out of the house. Crawling through the neighbors’ yards, clawing at the cars frantically driving down the road.

“Now would be a really great time for one of your brilliant plans,” Greg says. For once in his life, his fear outweighs his sarcasm.

Zombies arrive at the window, and one tries to crawl onto the roof with us. She loses her footing and falls to the ground below, her body making a sickening crunch.

“Come on, Grant. We can’t die before our phones do!”

I turn in circles on the roof. My eyes absorb the world around me, and as I see it, a crazy, will-probably-get-us-killed plan forms.

I punch Greg’s arm and point. “There.”

He shakes his head. “You’re nuts.”

“It’s our only option.”

Greg sighs. He takes a second to collect himself. Then he nods.

We step up to the edge of the roof. As the first zombie scrambles onto the roof, we jump and run for our lives.

[cabbage-and-friends]

The Vampire

“See ya tomorrow, girls!”

My friends parroted the words back to me as I started down the block toward my car. It wasn’t even ten yards away, but I only made it halfway there.

A hand clamped over my mouth, and an arm curled around my waist. The hand muffled my yelp of surprise followed by my screams for help. They were audible, but only just.

Behind me, my captor shivered. “Ooh, that’s it, baby. The more scared you are, the sweeter you are.”

The hand over my mouth yanked my head so hard to one side, my neck cracked. My captor’s chest pressed against my back as he leaned forward. His nose ran the length of my neck, and he inhaled deeply.

My screams intensified as I tried to wriggle away from the creep who had me. He dragged me further back into the darkness, his grip strong as steel.

He let go of my waist, but I still couldn’t get away. The hand over my mouth held me in place.

My captor ran his free hand over my neck. He stroked it, running his fingers up and down the length of it.

“People always say go for the carotid when you want to kill somebody.” He sniffed my neck again, a quiet moan slipping through his lips. “But, if you want dessert, you have to go for the jugular.” His finger jabbed my neck in a different spot.

He pressed his lips against my ear as he whispered, “You people get so scared as you start dying, and you get so, so sweet. The longer you’re scared, the sweeter you get. Why rush things?”

I whimpered, tears spilling onto my cheeks.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “You should be plenty sweet already.”

He pulled back and sank his teeth into my neck.

I gasped, and my breathing grew ragged. My captor moaned softly as he sucked on the puncture wounds in my neck. Black spots peppered the world in front of me, and my heart nearly beat out of my chest. I fought my captor with all my might. He held fast, groaning louder now.

The black spots blended together until the whole world was black. As my legs crumpled beneath me, my captor spoke a few last words.

“Do you want to live?”

Without hesitation, I nodded.

My captor gently laid me on the ground and knelt beside me. As he rustled with something, he pressed his lips to my ear again, whispering, “Welcome to the family.”

[cabbage-and-friends]

After

Someone walks up. A girl who used to be my best friend. She tucks a flower under my hand, tears welling in her eyes. “I should’ve been better to you.”

As she steps down, another person takes her place. My ex. The one who cheated on me. “I’ve never regretted what I did more. I sure hope that’s not why we’re here.” He stares down at me, something that might pass as emotion on anyone else furrowing his features. If my hands weren’t so full of flowers, I’d reach up and punch him. But since I’m sort of stuck and he doesn’t have a flower or some trinket to give me, he gives me one last look and ducks out of the room.

Behind him, the line seems never-ending. More old friends, estranged family, slightly less estranged family, recent friends, coworkers, old classmates, teachers, a few professors, close family, exes. Everyone is here. Everybody showed up. I’ve never felt more loved before.

It’s too bad they couldn’t have made me feel this way before I killed myself.

[cabbage-and-friends]

[cabbage-and-friends]

Haunted

The floorboards creak under my feet. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves.

Off to my right, something crashes to the floor. My head snaps in that direction, and I hear a quiet “whoops.”

“Seriously, Michael?”

My friend steps into view. He shrugs. “It’s dark in here.” A wry smile curls his lips. “Scared you, didn’t I?”

Trying to hide how easily he can scare me, I search the room to my left for signs of life. The furniture is draped with sheets and coated in dust. Nothing moves, not even the branches outside one of the paned windows.

Floorboards groan as Michael walks forward. He touches my shoulder, and despite my best efforts, I flinch.

“Let’s go upstairs, scaredy-cat.”

Swallowing, I follow Michael up the creaky steps. Each one protests under his weight and then mine, and I’m sure one of them will snap before we make it to the top. But they don’t. The stairs are intact when I step onto the second floor.

Michael’s already barged into a room. A second later, he comes back out. “You check that side of the hall, and I’ll get this one.”

I hesitate.

He sighs. “You don’t really believe the stories, do you? Ghosts aren’t real, Tay.”

I hug myself, rubbing my arms to fight off a chill. “I know, but this place is still creepy.”

“Well, the sooner we find that clue, the sooner we can get out.”

I nod again. This stupid Halloween scavenger hunt was a terrible idea.

Michael wanders off down the hall and disappears into another room. I head in the opposite direction. I poke my head in the first room, or try to anyway. It’s so packed with furniture, I can barely open the door wide enough to see in.

I move on to the next door. This one swings in easily, and I take a few cautious steps into it. As I’m poking through the dresser drawers, the bedroom door slams.

A shriek escapes me, and I rush to the door. I pull on it, but it won’t open. I bang my fist on the door. “Michael! Michael, this isn’t funny! Let me out!”

Behind me, a voice says, “Who’s Michael?”

I whip around and come face to face with a young boy. A boy who wasn’t there three seconds ago. And a boy whose throat has been slit.

A boy who is very much a ghost.

[cabbage-and-friends]

[cabbage-and-friends]

The Time of Your Life

I gathered her hair in my fingers, pulling her head back. She laughed. A deep, sexy laugh. She’d always liked it rough.

As she said something, egging me on, trying to get me to be rougher, I reached for the knife I’d left in the top drawer of the nightstand.

I yanked her head back farther. She moaned, and I dragged the knife across her throat, slitting it from ear to ear.

She fell forward, clutching her throat in her hands, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. I waited and watched the pool of red grow. When she finally stopped twitching, I stood.

“Good riddance.”

[cabbage-and-friends]

[cabbage-and-friends]

What I Can’t Remember

Terror. Disgust.

I really don’t know.

It’s kind of a toss-up when you wake up covered in blood.

It’s not my blood either. It’s somebody else’s.

But I only know that because I don’t have any cuts. I can’t remember last night at all. Or how I got here. Or where here is.

According to the notepad on the nightstand, it’s the Moyers Hotel. So, I’m downtown. Still no idea how I get here.

My phone’s on the floor, the screen shattered. It wasn’t like that last night. Before I pick it up, I rinse the blood off my hands. I wash my face off while I’m at it. When I zip my jacket up, you can’t see the massive blood stain on my shirt. I’m good as new.

Disgust levels down, I check my phone. I’ve got a million notifications, each text more frightening than the last.

Where are you?

Are you okay?

Are you alive?

I ignore them all and check my card charges. The last one was at a bar a few blocks from here. I take everything I know is mine from the room and head to the bar.

When I get there, there’s already a crowd. Police tape up. Flashing lights. Cops everywhere. The whole shebang.

“What happened?” I ask nobody in particular.

“Somebody shot up the place last night.”

A cop catches my eye. He squints, tilting his head to the side. Then, “I’ve got a visual on the suspect!”

Somebody didn’t shoot up this place. I did.

And I don’t remember a thing.

“Hold it right there!”

I don’t. I turn and run as fast as I can.

And I know now.

Terror. It’s definitely terror.

[cabbage-and-friends]

[cabbage-and-friends]

Your Soul for a Favor

When I was young and stupid, I made a deal with the devil. Fast forward fifteen years, and he’s due to collect. But today’s not the day.

I look him up and down. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

The devil holds something out. My contract. It bursts into flames. “I need a favor.”

[cabbage-and-friends]

[cabbage-and-friends]

Where We Leave Our Flowers

Murder was never part of the plan, but sometimes, things just happen.

“Oh, come on, Becca,” Chris whined. “We’re two minutes late. We didn’t have time to copy answers. You haven’t even finished going over it!”

Becca shrugged. “Policy is policy. No late work, period. Sorry.” She turned her back on Chris and started scribbling on the white board.

Chris and his friends slumped into seats on the last row. Karli put her head down on her desk in defeat, Sam stared blankly down at his perfect homework, and Chris sat back, glaring at Becca. They stayed like that for the rest of class, the trio barely taking in a word Becca said during her review.

As the last minute ticked down, Becca muttered a curse. “I forgot to pass out homework again. I’ll hand it out as you leave.” She took up a post by the door as papers ruffled and bags zipped.

Chris, Karli, and Sam were the last out. Chris bumped into Becca, hitting her with his shoulder, and ignored her as she yelped, “Hey!”

She turned to glare after Chris, and Karli stepped on her outstretched toes. “Whoops.”

Becca huffed but held her tongue. Sam turned as he walked out the door, slamming his backpack into Becca and saying, “I forgot my phone!”

Becca leaned against the wall, standing well out of harm’s way, as Sam joined Karli and Chris in the hall.

They walked down the hall, headed for the parking lot. Other than their shoes scuffing and tapping on the tile floors, silence enveloped them.

They piled into Chris’s car, still not speaking. They waited for the parking lot to empty. When only one other car was left, Chris gunned the engine and turned toward the parking lot’s exit.

Becca stepped down off the curb, her eyes narrowing as she recognized Chris behind the wheel. She took slow, deliberate steps, walking right in front of Chris’s car.

Chris honked. “Move it, Becca!”

Becca glanced at him, her eyes daring him to make her.

“That’s it,” Chris muttered. He slammed his foot down on the gas, and the car lurched forward.

“Chris!” Karli yelled. “Chris, stop!”

Chris ignored her. He pushed the pedal to the floor. Becca’s eyes widened as Chris’s car hit her. She flew back, and Chris kept going. The car rolled right over her, like she was nothing more than a speed bump.

Karli screamed. Sam flopped to one side in the back seat, unconscious. Chris’s eyes widened in horror. He and Karli scrambled out of the car, rushing to check on Becca.

“She’s dead,” Karli whispered.

“We can’t just leave her here,” Chris said. “Help me move her.”

They loaded Becca’s body into the trunk. The rest of the night—driving out into the desert, burying her body, and coming back—blurred together. None of them remembered quite how it all happened, but they remembered exactly where they’d left Becca. They came back every year to lay flowers at the spot.

[cabbage-and-friends]

[cabbage-and-friends]

A Date with the Dead

When I get home, there’s a box waiting for me on the front porch. A note’s been taped in place on the bottom.

Great Oak Park, our usual place.

8PM.

At 8, I sit in the park. Someone walks up, his hood on. When he pulls it off, I gasp.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

[cabbage-and-friends]

The Hike

“This is my life now. I’ve climbed this hill and now I will die upon it.”

“Shut up. We’ve only been hiking for twenty minutes.”

I plop down in the grass.

My brother crosses his arms. “We haven’t even done the hard part yet.”

“All the more reason to stop.”

He grabs the back of my pack and yanks me to my feet. “Come on.”

I eye the path in front of us. Steep, craggy, far too long. I turn on my heel and head back the way we came. My brother reaches out, grabs the handle on my pack. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to the car to wait for you.”

“You said you’d come up to the top with me. You can’t back out now. It’s only a couple miles.”

I sighed. “’And miles to go before I sleep.’”

“Exactly. Now come on.” He marches down the path, carefully placing his feet so he doesn’t fall. Reluctantly, I follow him.

Another thirty minutes pass, and we’ve crept closer to the top of the glorified hill. As I take my next step, the ground beneath me starts to shake. I latch onto the nearest tree.

“What’s going on?” I shriek.

My brother grabs onto a different tree, looking in every direction. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?!”

My brother continues to look around. His nose starts twitching, like he’s smelling something. “Is that … smoke?”

I inhale deeply through my nose. I smell it too. Something’s burning. A few seconds later, I see what. The mountain.

“Run!” my brother yells.

I abandon my tree and take off down the uneven path. My brother’s feet step on the heels of my shoes. I run a little faster, trying to outpace him.

We crash back down the path, running as fast as we possibly can. The long hike up takes fifteen minutes on the way down.

I stumble into the parking lot, stopping to catch my breath. My brother charges toward the car and fires up the engine.

“Get in!”

I suck in a deep breath and hop in on the passenger side. As we drive away, black smoke billows behind us. The entire hill is in flames. I swallow, staring. Then I look back at my brother. “I’m never hiking with you again.”