Pay the man, Assaph. He doesn’t seem the sort whose bad side on which you want to be! ;-D


SM - Minis 1 - CopyAs part of Virtual FantasyCon (that awesome event where Murder In Absentia received an unprecedented five awards ;-), we did a blog hunt. Since I ran two blogs, I participated twice – and gave Felix a chance to speak for himself in one.

Of course, the bastard went ahead and started to curse me for making him work. Apparently he’s not big on doing self-promotions without immediate pay.

This post was originally published on Diane Riggins site. I’ll let you read Felix’s words for yourself.

Salve omnibus . My name is Spurius Vulpius Felix, sometimes known as Felix the Fox, though almost everybody calls me just Felix. It means Fortune’s Favourite in my language, but I’m afraid I am more like Furtuna’s favourite butt for practical jokes.

Actually, you may know my language as Latin. Years ago I visited your world, quite by accident. I came to a city named Rome…

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Accidental Evil

January 5, 2017

“Forgive us our trespasses – as we forgive those who trespass against us.” – The Lord’s Prayer
Is there such a thing as “accidental evil?” Sometimes I wonder… 🤔

(Loosely based on true stories – mine, yours, and the “asshole’s” next door. Oh wait…that’s MY door.😏)

🚙🚌🚕🚗 – 💥

One morning commute

I took to task

An “asshole” I deemed

Driving “way too fast”

In righteous rage

I boxed him in

He honked and swerved

But I just grinned

When he’d suffered

Enough – I let him in

My heartbeat racing

And short of breath

With angry glare

I wish him death

A misspent sliver

Of my time on Earth

In fool’s errand wishing

A stranger, hurt

Not much further

On my ride

I see the asshole

Parked roadside

Running toward wreckage

With an anguished cry

As EMTs pull the sheet

Over the dead girl’s face

I’m convicted

As it all snaps into place

Had I prevented that man

From saying goodbye?

Because there is no doubt

His loved one has died

I replay his desperate bid

To reach the crash site

Which but for my interference

He just have might…

In that moment

My guilt by truth endowed

Asking myself the question,

“Who’s the asshole now?”


Undone – Day 9

October 9, 2016

I love the writing of Grace Black. It so rich and multi-layered. Reading her feels like dumping a McDonalds meal for five-star French restaurant fare! 😉

This is a helpful review of great editing tools. Anything to relieve the pain, right?

Kristen Lamb's Blog

Screen Shot 2016-06-13 at 8.51.04 AM

Hey guys, Today Nancy Lin is here to help us with what might just be THE suckiest part of writing. But part of being a great writer, is also learning to be at least a good editor. We all need professional outside eyes on our work, and Nancy is here to help you get the most bang for your buck.

Take it away, Nancy!


Editing is a necessary part of writing, but not all writers are great editors. As a writer, I find it helpful to get a second opinion, because I’m not able to see every single error. And this isn’t just me.

You might think you’re the next Shakespeare (which are pretty big shoes to fill). Once you stop basking in your own ego, you can be more realistic about your writing ability. And chances are you’re not.

Professional editors are useful, and, in some cases, they’re…

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Warriors’ Worth

May 13, 2016

Forgotten ones
The “Left behinds”
Their arc of life
Is one unkind

From the World’s
Hot zones
Return Stateside
And have no home

Averted eyes
A ragged quilt
We drop stray coin
To ease our guilt

Of honor shown
There is a dearth
We fail to own
Our warriors’ worth

Huddling round
A flaming bin
They wear their hope
Like tattered coats

And burn
Their brittle dreams
For meager proof
The cold




May 10, 2016

The words slip
Like ghosts neath a veil
Slippery and charged
Cresting the tip
Of the Wizard’s hail

In the light of science
And the shade of magic
Sound has power
To change the World-

When a black hole
Screams hunger
A light ray’s
Path curls

So the Mage makes
Great power with words
A cyclone whirls
As his magic unfurls

“Stabunt simul,
Audi vocem meam!”

(Time stand still
Obey my will!)

Over burning entrails
Incantations are dropped
Sigils wiggle and writhe
And all the World sto…


April 17, 2016

Eye Will Not Cry



The deafening silence…
Those futile gestures…
They trample feelings…
While bitterness festers…
As it’s happened before…
Now it’s started again…
And the instant replay…
Brings instant pain…
Whilst descending clouds…
Of opposite thoughts…
Bring feelings of anger…
Pointing out all the faults…
But with tension mounting…
And each anxiety attack…
Those beautiful memories…
Now fade into black…
As the cigarette burns…
It’s spinning out of control…
With a broken spirit…
And a battered soul…
Leaving nothing behind…
All senses are numb…
It feels never ending…
But it’s only just begun…
And stood in isolation…
Trying to hide away…
The teardrop won’t fall…
But the heart’s in decay…
Always battling demons…
Blocking out those voices…
Forever finger pointing…
And criticising choices…
Yet the distant thunder…
Leads to clearer thinking…
The sudden realisation…

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People Of The Rind

March 27, 2016

  We outsiders

Rough skin


Bereft of love

The left behind

Last to sup

Sweet juice

From vine

Our efforts fast

Crushed by the grind

As tomorrow weighs

On mankind’s mind

Whelved fate


We people

Of the rind

Endless Gin

March 18, 2016

  Is it the bottom
Of this flask I seek?
I take a sip – and then another
And for the millionth time,
I peek

Should have died
A drunken shit
Yet here I sit
Waxing lyrical-
A spiritual miracle

This is the story of my escape
Rejection of a prisoner’s fate
I killed my jailer
An endless “djinn”
Of my self-imposed sin

Now I Live my life, neat
I run to the sun
On gifted feet, fleet…

Free of the crutch I no longer need-
Abandoned in tall grass gone to seed


March 16, 2016

  Awakened from dream

By a storm last night

At peace with the rain

And the thunder’s bite

My inner eye bright

In lightning’s white light

My vision unmarred

By life’s base deceptions

My mind unfettered

Blank slate at post inception

I see myself floating

Safe in my mother’s womb

While the world rages

Like the weather

Outside my room

And yet I know peace

Wrapped in calm chrysalism

Yet to be touched

By the cut

Of poor decisions-

I am suspended

Within life’s morn

Chaste in the eye

Of a living storm…