This Moment

This Moment – A Haiku

powerful moment
alive in the present dance
expansion awaits

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2014

Daily Prompt:

My Spiritual Answer to this prompt can be found here: 

The Portal – A Friday Flash Fantasy

Today’s Flash Fiction is based on the following picture prompt from


The Portal

“No, John. No, don’t.” The panic in her voice was as deep as the forest was vast.
“It’s okay, it really is safe.”
“I am not going through there.”
“A little late for that, or do you want to wait here in the middle of nowhere until tomorrow?”
She looked around, the imposing trees throwing darker shadows already, as the afternoon began to make space for evening.
Sighing she looked at her brother. “Okay no, I don’t.”
“It will be fun, I promise. There is really nothing to worry about.”
“You have done this plenty of times?”
“Six times, not including this trip. Nothing happened. I walked along the shoreline, collecting samples.”
Ellena remembered the collection of jars and baggies that cluttered his desk, leaving no space for anything else but his discoveries, the contents looking harmless, even if unfamiliar, in color and structure.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned back into the seat of their car, adjusting her dress to cover her knees, like any proper lady would.
The Portal through the tree was large and frightening, but a ray of sunlight engulfed the area, with such depth, calming her somewhat. How could anything this pretty be dangerous?
“Well then lets go. Time to see that new dimension of yours.”

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2014

Today’s Daily Prompt asked us to write about Heroes of our past – particularly at 5 years of age.

This is my interpretation:


I release the heroes of my past
as I make space – future at last!
Letting go of yesterday
Releases me to say
That my choices I now make
create what I want, my now at stake.


The Outsider


The Outsider

I was always the outsider, the lonely one, the one who was picked on, bullied, messed with. I was the one that everyone vented their frustration on, not only in school but also at home.
I was different after all, different in the many ways no one understood, and frankly, I did not allow them to see. They never knew how different I really was, not until, well, today.
They just went on their merry way, not considering for once in their lives how I would feel, what was going on inside of me, or how they fueled an untamed rage that burned so deep into my soul, that there was nothing left to save.
Nothing, nothing I did, say or how I tried to show them, that I was a human being, who needed a little dignity, and love was acknowledged, not even for the shortest period of time.
I had no one to go to, no safe place to be, walking from one hot plate of despair to another.
They made me.
They created the monster I had become
And for the first time in my life I was grateful.
The beautiful crackling and moaning, that escaped the building as it lost is structural integrity was more exhilarating than any symphony. The screams of the students running from their collapsing school, some still on fire, others dazed and confused by the thick heaviness of the smoke reminded me of an aria, no soul could imagine a more breathtaking composition.
I wanted to watch, embrace the dancing fire, engulf myself in the midst of the powerful creation that I, only I had brought upon them, but I knew I had to be careful.
After all, my work had just begun.

© Claudia H. Blanton 2014 Finest Craft Beers from America’s Best Micro Breweries- 300x250 banner

Allure And Obsession



her delicate charms
fragile rainbow colored eyes
fleeting enchantment

Written for today’s prompt:

Write about anything you’d like, but make sure that all seven colors of the rainbow — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet — make an appearance in the post, either through word or image.

That above Haiku is a display of an innocent connection, but I am currently exploring a story line for a future project in which such an encounter turns into an obsession. 

I am very much looking forward to writing “Split”. It will be a lot darker and less magical then “The Historian” – Series. 

Have a wonderful day everyone!


Happiness Is A Choice

Happiness within
found dancing amidst moments
of mundane living

Today’s Prompt:

What does “happiness” look like to you?

Happiness to me is a part of my spiritual practice – this post is a little unusual for me, considering that I usually like to keep my spiritual thoughts away from my professional blog. But I can not touch on happiness without mentioning that as a person whom accepts Law of Attraction as a vital part of my spiritual practice, that I made a conscious choice to be happy in the Now.

(For those whom are wondering, I am a practicing Witch, and a Pagan)


That is about as much spirituality I want to bring to this blog – I have a seperate blog dedicated to my practice as a Witch, you can find it here:

It – A Flash Fiction Horror Story

Today’s Question is: 

When was the last time you did something completely new and out of your element? How was it? Will you do it again?

Six months ago I gave myself a challenge, to write Flash Fiction. Before that I had not even attempted any type of short stories, I was not even a particular fan of this type of writing. But I wanted to challenge myself, expand what I usually write. And I discovered some really good flash fiction writers.

My first Flash Fiction was accepted by Chupra Chupra House Publishing, to my surprise. I have not stopped writing these little stories since. 

If I would not have tried something new, I would have missed out on the writing lessons I have learned through reading and creating them. 

The following is a story I want to share with you today:

It – A Flash Fiction Horror

“It really does not approve of males.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Oh, I am very sure about that. It ate my boyfriend.”
“Seriously?” She paused looking around herself uncomfortably. “You do not seem to be broken up about it.”
Gina shrugged.
“I don’t know. Only thing I care about right now is to be here. Nothing else seem to matter that much.”
Her friend frowned.
“Are you sure that is a healthy way to react?”
“Why?” Gina yawned. ‘Why would I not want to be anywhere else? It is nice next to It. Look, I even have some food. Would you like some cookies?”
“No Gina, I would not like any. Sweetie, I think you should come home and we should talk to your Dad. As a cop he should know what we should do about Matt.”
“Do what about Matt? He is gone. So what? I am going to eat some of these cookies, they are tasty, not exactly sure what they are though.”
Mary eyed the cookies with distrust.
“I don’t think you should eat those. You are acting weird.”
“I am not acting weird.”
Gina frowned.
“Actually you are acting like you do not want me to be here.”
“Gina, I think we should go.”
“I am not going anywhere,” she smiled and took another bite of the small, delicate looking cookie.
“Seriously, I am leaving, and I am going to talk to your Dad…”
The ground open up quickly under the young woman, swallowing her up with such a quick completeness, that it was as if she never existed, closing just as fast.
Gina took another bite, and mumbled, “You are not going anywhere either.”

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2014

Truth Or Dare

Truth Or Dare

I should have told him.
Maybe it would have been a better idea to get clean about what I had done.
There was nothing better then telling the truth, relieving the burden upon one’s chest, the heaviness that came with the reflection of what happened, and the expectation of revelation.
On the other hand, he would have been mad, no, not just mad but furious. When he was furious he was frightening.
After all he was way past the 6 foot mark, imposing in stature and loud in voice.
That is not the person you would like to piss off.
Then why in the hell did I take is motorcycle to begin with?
He won’t notice the scratch. I am sure he won’t.
“Who in the hell touched my motorcycle?”
His booming voice broke through the large home like a wreaking ball.
Putting on an innocent smile, I looked into his direction.
“What happened?”

© Claudia H. Blanton 2014
This story was based on today’s writing prompt for the Daily Post

Is it possible to be too honest, or is honesty always the best policy?

The Truck Stop – A Friday Flash Horror Story



He loved the independent Truckers. The owner operators who spend most of their time in their vehicles, just to make payments, always moving, always going somewhere, staying just long enough to eat, and talk to a human being face to face.

They were one with their vehicles, some in better shape then others, more often then not decked with a custom paint job, or extra chrome. Men and some women who had a closer relationship with the big rig then with any person in the world.


He paid close attention when they came into his establishments, making sure they had all the conveniences that the best truck stops had to offer.

 High quality coffee, filling hot meal, that did not rob them blind, and a small but well stocked store, offering even more items to deck out their special vehicles.

In fact, his place was so welcoming that most stayed a few extra minutes, just to take in all the extras they were not used to.

And he was always there, ready to listen, trade the newest jokes right along road conditions. He was well liked.


Everyone trusted Glenn.


Glenn smiled, waved and waited. The best trucks, the nicest rigs, those well taken care off despite the harsh conditions, where his favorites and his opportunity.


He was quick, taking care of the truckers in the bathrooms, or the small rooms set aside for the internet,or  the others for video games.

He was never messy, knew how to handle the biggest guys with ease. Never leaving a sign, nothing amiss, no body to discover.

He was efficient.


Another truck to add to is collection.


Practice made perfect.


Glancing out of the darkened office window, his smile depend, as he saw a brand new, spotless white Volvo VNL 780 approaching.


Time to make some coffee.

The Foster Home – A Flash Fiction Horror Story


The prick on her finger produced a deep red drop of blood, but Danny resisted the urge to move it toward her mouth.
She had not expected it to hurt this bad.
What the heck.

“Oh hold still, you are such a baby.” Tess shook her head at the younger of the pair.
“Yeah right, and who was the one who got all squeamish earlier?”
“I don’t like guts and gore, all right? I prefer clean deaths, singular shot, a quick prick with a syringe filled with poison, a quick snap of the neck. Not the messy kind.”
“You mean my kind.”
“Oh don’t be such a baby, I did not mean to criticize your style of murder. You got the job done, all that matters. And your blood sugar is fine, hon. You don’t have diabetes. I told you not to listen to her bullshit.”
“Well now I don’t have to listen to her bullshit anymore, do I?”

Her friend laughed, looking toward the end of the hallway, where the closed door separated them from the still warm bodies.
“Want some of the cookies?”
“Nah, but that coffee smells good.”
She took a quick sip. “Taste good too – you want some?”

That was one thing the Tyrant had been really good at, making coffee, pouring it into the delicate flower cups with the thin golden rim and the tiny handle. Her favorite cups, which the kids were never allowed to touch unless there was a visit from the Department. Then, it was time for delicate cups, and delicate cookies, and beautiful clothes reserved for special occasions.

Tess shook her head, the blond strings of her hair moving down into her face, which she snapped back quickly,  a gesture Danny had come accustomed to over the last 10 years they known each other.

They were more sisters than friends, foster sisters, knowing each others greatest secrets and fears, discovering them one by one, as they were both held in this barbaric household, that had provided the perfect environment to create disturbed individuals.

Or killers.

They had spent most of their pre-teens and teenager years in this pretty home with so many secrets. Secret beatings, secrets starvation’s and secret men who liked little girls. Hey, the Tyrant knew how to make the most money out of her projects. She had been a business woman to the core.

That ugly lady with the crooked teeth but perfect smile, hiding behind that prim and proper exterior of Sunday school teacher dresses and gentle voice, the real monster only the children got to see.
On a regular basis.

But no more.
No more monster, no more beatings, no more days locked up in moldy closet in the basement.

Danny smiled and lifted up her head, glaring at her friend, who freed the large and very sharp kitchen knife from blood and fingerprints.

Free at last.

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2014

Progress – A Daily Prompt Post


Today’s Prompt is:

When you look back at your blog on January 2, 2015, what would you like to see?

Oh, that is something I have actually been contemplating – progress – how to move forward and create the end results I have been working so hard on.

Next year, I will have a link to my published trilogy on the blog, as well as my Short Story collection (it already has a title “How To Train A Cat And Other Impossibilities”). I will have gained so many beautiful friends from this blog roll – some of which I have already met, and we meet on each others blogs on a regular basis. It will be filled with useful information, entertaining stories, laughter and my favorites, dark fantasy and horror.

It will be a place to find a quick escape via my flash fiction. It will be uplifting at times, spiked with the occasional motivation, because that is who I am.

It will be a place where the worries of your day won’t find you, and where a hug and a virtual cup of coffee is available to everyone who wants and needs it.

That to me would be progress!