Welcome to the Creative Perspective Challenge Ten results! I was impressed by what others came up with. Here’s a link for an amazing poem from Sandra, and below is not only my take but some fantastic flash fiction from Priscilla Bettis.

Sandra Cox: LINK

HIGH SCHOOL LOVE by Priscilla Bettis

On graduation day, Joseph knelt and removed the little promise ring on my finger and exchanged it for a laugh. “It’s been fun, Babe,” he said.

Momma held me. “Don’t let this harden your heart,” she cooed. “Even as Christ forgave you, so also—” I pushed her and her stupid religion away. I fled. Fled my family, fled the town.

After ten years’ absence, I returned, clutching letters (after my name) and my hatred of men. I drove straight toward Joseph’s house, fuming that the cruellest boy in high school lived in a picturesque home where warm light and laughter leaked through spotless windows, where spicy sugared smells of gingerbread hovered in the air about the house.

I stood before Joseph’s house, now abandoned save for a stray dog. My vengeance had been thwarted! I screamed at the dog and threw clumps of dirt at the empty house. Dust and the odor of mold oozed through broken windows. Darkness licked the eaves. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the foundation, its stones as hard as my vile heart.

THE BOY AND THE FOX by D. L. Finn

They appeared every night at eleven, the boy and his fox. The newly installed camera caught them, but I still couldn’t see the boy’s face. It was always shrouded in shadows and further hidden by a hat. His features remained a mystery.

It started two weeks ago. Unafraid, I threw the door open.

“Hello! Do you need help?”

They disappeared silently into the forest. I tried for three nights with the same results, so I stopped. Even peeking out the window would make them leave. What did the boy want? I guessed him to be about thirteen, much like Boyd was before…

“No, it’s not my son. He and Ted died a year ago. I’m alone, but it’s okay to keep their memory alive. I have many good memories.”  I dutifully did what my therapist suggested to stop the despair and my self-blame for their death.

But tonight, the negative thoughts still crept in. If I had only gone with them, maybe the timing would have been different, or if I hadn’t suggested pizza, they never would have left. But that isn’t how it happened. I was living in a house paid for by the money from the construction company whose heavy beam fell on them. I would give back the money and everything I own to have my family back.

I shook my head and focused on the boy. “Has to be a neighbor’s boy that sneaks out after his parents go to bed.”

A week into it, my worrying for his safety won, and I reported this to the sheriff.

“Probably just a local taking their dog for a walk, Mrs. Haily. Unlikely it’s a kid, and it doesn’t sound like you’re in danger. Keep your door locked just to be safe. If anything changes, give us a call.” Sheriff Daniel tipped his hat and, without making eye contact the entire time, left.

No report was taken.

My worry turned to curiosity, and I asked locals at the grocery and hardware store about the boy. Pity reflected in their eyes as they replied. Pity. How could they know about my past already? My nervous breakdown. Discouraged that my past followed me to this little town, I stopped asking questions.

I continued to settle into my new house during the day and waited to see if the boy returned each night. As accurate as my grandfather clock, the boy and fox made their appearance. I watched from the comfort of my bed on my phone screen.

“Why can’t I see your face?”

Both stood like statues, watching the house. Then, the night before Halloween, he did something new. He sat down, and the fox climbed into his lap. They stayed like that for over an hour and then got up and quietly returned to the woods.

“Maybe you’re more comfortable now.” I smiled and fell into the deepest sleep I’d had in a year.

I awoke rested on a foggy mountain Halloween morning. Although it was my favorite holiday, it was the anniversary of my family’s death. The familiar pain weaved its greedy spell over me as I thought of the movies never watched, pizza eaten, or laughter shared.

I took a long, deep breath, trying to avoid that dark place that had consumed me last year. “No. Remember the good times. Speak them.”  I took another deep breath and picked up the photo album. Nine-year-old Boyd stood next to the elephants with a huge grin. He was wearing his favorite Chicago Bears hat and jersey. “That was a fun day when I took Boyd to the zoo during spring break. He loved all the animals and wanted to rehab injured animals when he grew up.” A chill shot through me as I turned the page, remembering the stuffed fox he slept with each night when he was little. Focus. “Here’s the time when we went to the ocean for vacation. He and Ted chased the waves until they were completely soaked. I was so lucky to have had them both in my life. I…”

I sighed and shut the album. Maybe I should try something else. I poured all the candy I had bought for Halloween into a bowl. No children would trick or treat at my isolated house, but maybe…

I set the bowl outside the door at 10:30.  In a loud voice, I spoke to the dark trees. “I hope you like candy, and I left you a note. Maybe we can be friends.” No response.

I sat by the roaring fire, staring at my phone. Finally, the boy and the fox arrived. Carefully, they approached the candy. The boy whose face was still hidden under a blue cap looked around and hesitated before snatching up a chocolate bar. He tugged off the wrapper and popped it into his mouth. That would have been Boyd’s pick, too. Then he dug through the bowl and ate three more pieces and shared gummy worms with the fox. Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he bent down to pet the fox and returned the wrappers to the bowl. The letter remained unread.

I watched, barely breathing. Should I open the door?

He finally picked up the note and read it. With a slight nod, he knocked on the door.

Peeking through the peephole, I saw he had removed his hat. I immediately recognized his face and flung the door open.

“Boyd?”

“I came back so you wouldn’t be alone, Mom. This is Foxy, who’s been my friend on this side.”

I gathered him in a hug. He felt real, not ghost-like. “Why didn’t you come to the door sooner?”

“I could only come tonight. Weird rules, and Dad couldn’t come at all.”

My heart fluttered. “Is he okay?”

He smiled, “Yes, but misses you.”

“I miss him too. Come in.”

Boyd stepped into the house and stood by the fire, rubbing his hands together. The fox settled down on the fake bear rug next to him.

“I have so many questions and…”

He held up his hand. “I know you do, Mom. My time is limited to tonight with you, and there’s little I can share with you. But know that we will be there when it’s your time. It was our time, Mom. Not yours. Understand?”

His green eyes had a knowing they never had in real life. “I think so. When is my time?”

“Can’t tell you, Mom. Rules, remember?”

“Got it.” I zipped my lips.

“Although I can only talk to you tonight, I’ll drop by every night. I promise.”

It didn’t matter that this didn’t make any sense; I was going to enjoy my few hours with my son. “Can I make you a grilled cheese?”

“I’d love that.”

“Maybe we could watch some scary movies.”

He smiled. “Perfect.”

I never spoke of that night to anyone, and like clockwork, my son and his fox came every night and stood by the house. That was enough for me.

Here’s the creative perspective others took on the below image:

Yvette Calleiro: LINK

Sandra Cox: LINK

My turn:

WILLIE (1000 words)

With a heavy heart, Samuel made his final nightly round as the head of the lake’s security force. The moonlight reflected off the murky, but still water. He was relieved no one was breaking the curfew. It was never a pleasant exchange if he encountered anyone wandering by the lake.

Only four years ago, this job had been a blessing following being shot after chasing a robbery suspect. Leaving the city and that job behind, he moved his wife and two young daughters to the lake where he’d enjoyed many childhood vacations. His family settled in and loved the peace of lakeside living. Unfortunately, everything changed one July afternoon when a huge green creature attacked a boat and a family of four. Their bodies never recovered.

Officials quickly evacuated people and there were many attempts to kill the creature. First, they dropped bombs into the still waters but never hit the creature. Bullets bounced off its green scales and the last attempt was poison delivered by a crop-dusting plane. The creature jumped high enough to snatch the plane in its large, heavily toothed jaw. The plane was spit out like a watermelon seed. The pilot was never recovered. The creature kept its snake-like eyes above water for days, watching. It was during this time they learned it could breathe air as well as water.

Competing theories emerged that included dinosaurs and aliens. The one thing everyone agreed on was the demise of its food source might force it to venture out of the lake.

“After confirming with local experts, we are restocking the lake with fish. From observation, it only wants to survive and eat,” Mayor Warner announced.

With great fanfare, it was done, and all was quiet.

Six months later, the Mayor made another announcement. “Welcome home Williams Lake residents! Willie, as he has been named, had only been defending himself. Although we won’t be fishing, boating, or swimming, I see a prosperous future with tourism. People want to see our unique lake creature.”

For three years, Mayor Warner was right. People visited from all parts of the world to see the giant monster. Locals grew rich. Willie seemed to know his part in this with frequent sightings and high-pitched cries. But the calm wasn’t forever.

Samuel sighed and turned away from the lake. “I wish they would have listened to me.”

In the last several weeks, Samuel had found dead deer, bears, and other animals’ bones by the lake. The mayor, council, and residents shrugged it off.

A rabbit, mirroring the other animal’s state, rested near the dock. Its life had drained away like a vampire had feasted. He shook his head as the crickets and frogs’ songs serenaded him. He climbed into his red pickup and turned on the radio.

“There’s been another sighting of a Willie creature in Oregon. This is the sixth one in the last week. All in natural lakes with no dams. Authorities are warning people to stay off natural lakes in the western states until they can investigate. Experts are suggesting they be mutated reptiles that had been pets at one point. Their hatching could be due to many factors but be assured they mean no harm if you don’t go into their territory. There is no reason to panic.”

Samuel shut the radio off. “Yeah, right. That’s no one’s pet. Maybe these experts should look one in the eye. They’d see they aren’t just lizards. We are under attack and people want to take pictures and buy tee-shirts.”

He signed out and left his resignation for the Mayor. Soon he was home. The rental with four bedrooms and a lake view deck had seemed to be too good to be true.

He walked through the door and pushed past the packed bags and boxes.

“You got everything, Selina?”

“Yes. All the things we came here with. Are you sure we should go? I mean, we are set back from the lake.”

“Something is coming. I can feel it. You’ve seen the intelligence in Willie’s gaze. It has been leaving the lake, and it’s only a matter of time before we are on its menu. I’ve found the perfect place, I promise. You’ll see. It has a well, a small creek, and no lakes or big bodies of water anywhere near it. Plus, it has a bunker. The man I bought it from was prepared for anything, including war.”

“You think we are going to war with those things, don’t you?”

“I do. I’ve been watching for years. I can feel the shift. I know it sounds crazy but…”

“No buts…I know you aren’t crazy Samuel, but I worry about money.”

“We’d be fine on our savings for a couple of years, but at the beginning of my shift, I got an offer to work security at a warehouse only a half hour from the house.”

“That’s good news. As long as we are together, I don’t care where we live.” Selina said added. “The girls are asleep. They think we are going on vacation.”

“Good, I’ll explain it to them later. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“Let’s get some sleep.”

“After I pack the pick-up.”

Selina nodded and headed upstairs.

The next morning, they were three hours away from the lake and pulling into the driveway of their new concrete steel-fortified cabin. Selina and the girls jumped out of the car to explore. Relief flooded over him and he took the first deep breath in days.

Two weeks later, he was driving home with a truckload of supplies for their bunker when his favorite song was interrupted. “The State of California has issued a warning to those who live near the lakes where the Willie creatures have been spotted. Please leave the area immediately. I repeat evacuate now. Go to your nearest city. There have been several reported attacks outside of the lakes this morning. The National Guard has been called in. Please…”

Samuel turned off the radio. “It has begun.”

He sighed and climbed out of the truck, determined to keep his family safe.

The next Creative Perspective Challenge coming June 10th.

Welcome to the fifth Creative Perspective Challenge. Here’s the link if you would like more information: RULES

I hope you join in with a poem or flash fiction for this image:

I can’t wait to see the creativity! I will post links to those who participate and my own take on it.

I’ll be getting the newsletter out today. Watch your email for it, if subscribed.

Have you enjoyed the stories from the image as much as I have? If you missed any, the list of participating authors is below.

Jan Sikes: LINK

Yvette Calleiro: LINK

This month I went with a tanka prose for the image.

The Escape

It was just me and Sadie, my horse. Only my backpack held what remained of my life. This left me with a change of clothes, soap, lip gloss, lotion, family pictures, my mother’s jewelry, a journal, a pen, and a map. My saddlebags had already been packed and were ready to be put on Sadie. Dried fruit, jerky, coffee, a water filter, and bullets filled them. I had the sleeping bag, cooking pot, cup, full canteen, and tent tied to the back of the saddle. My gun was on my hip, ready to use. I knew how to live off the land, and that was what I was going to do. There was now a day’s ride between me and the house that was fully engulfed in flames as I rode over the ridge. No one followed me, perhaps believing I was trapped in the fire or wasn’t important enough to chase. The rest of the horses were released. I hoped they would find safety, but that’s all I could offer them when the worst-case scenario happened. There had been just enough time to get away after the alarms were triggered. Tonight, Sadie and I will settle down by the creek and rest. There will be no fire tonight, just to be safe. I hope to find others like me along the way as we head north to what should offer safety and a place to start over.

enemies at door

my house the casualty

on horse, I escaped

freedom, a long ride away

I’m guided by hope and truth

The next challenge is a week later than normal, as I will be on vacation. So watch for it on May 20th.

Embrace your inner child by challenging yourself! D. L. Finn

I’m thrilled to have Linda Broday here today to share her latest story, Creek. I read this exciting story in a single sitting. Here’ the link to the five-star review: LINK

Thank you so much for having me, D.L. Finn! I really appreciate the change to talk about my newest release—Creek.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I’ve often pondered about the line drawn between outlaws and lawmen on the American Frontier and find that at times it became so blurred it was almost invisible. A man could be a sheriff or U.S. Marshal one day and a fugitive outlaw the next, depending on the circumstances.

There were no laws, no courts, and little or no government. The few lawmen that existed were forced to cover huge areas and there was no way they could. The only law was what a man could find for himself and the gun determined the outcome.

Creek is such a man in my new release by the same title. Mystery surrounds him. He comes to El Paso seeking answers in response to a letter from a dying friend.

My sister Jan and I always thought our dad’s fascination with outlaws a little odd but maybe he wondered how it would be to have plenty for once in his life. He was always taking us to museums and places that displayed outlaw memorabilia. We loved it and always found new things we didn’t know.

The 1800s have always held a fascination and I love writing stories set in those times. I loved the simplistic nature and that a person could be whatever they wanted. In this book, I wanted to write a different western and this storyline is just that. Instead of a typical western, this one revolves around a little girl who’s convinced he’s her daddy. I think women will like this.

Creek Blurb:

A mysterious man with one name and secrets that gnaw at his soul.

Creek has a reputation as a gunslinger, a lawless man—one to be feared. So, when an orphaned eleven-year-old girl in this rough border town claims she’s his daughter, it jolts the very fiber of his being. For a man making a living with a gun, he’s not father material in any sense of the word. And he has serious doubts he ever met her mother.

Yet Willa July stands firm. Creek has the mark on his wrist that proves her claim. When she’s taken by a crazed killer from his past, Creek is propelled into a desperate chase. He alone understands the depths of this monster’s evil mind.

Time is his enemy as he races to save her. But if he succeeds in getting the girl back, can Creek tear down his walls and embrace the role he never dreamed possible?

Here’s a short excerpt:

Coffee would hit the spot but as Creek passed an alleyway, he heard a shrill cry for help that could only come from a child. He stopped and backed up to see a group of four roughly passing a young girl from one to another, laughing at her futile attempts to escape.

“What’s the matter, darlin’,” said a tall Anglo. “Ain’t no need to be inhospitable. We’ll show you a good time. You’re a little young and all but we aim to teach you.”

Another in a bowler hat laughed. “Settle down and enjoy the party.”

“Let me go!” she yelled. “Leave me alone.” She twisted and kicked then suddenly swung and landed a fist to the moron’s nose. Blood spurted.

The girl had plenty of grit. But when the ne’re do well backhanded her and she sprawled motionless on parched ground, Creek dismounted with his Colt in hand. Measured steps took him to the group. He knew he looked intimidating, especially with a low-slung holster, large knife at his hip, and leather wrist cuffs. Then if that wasn’t enough, he had a close-cropped beard and his Stetson pulled down low. Most men gave him a wide berth and that saved him from conversation.

“I don’t have a dog in this fight,” Creek drawled. “But it looks like the young lady can use someone on her side. Touch her again and you might find yourself in more trouble than you bargained for.”

The lowlife in the bowler hat snarled, “There’s four of us in case you ain’t noticed, mister.”

Creek took a few more measured steps and planted his feet wide. “I learned to count a long time ago, sonny. I’d go take care of my nose if I was you. You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.” He released a chuckle. “I should let the girl finish you off but that wouldn’t be too gentlemanly.”

The tallest of the group apparently found Creek’s glare a mite unhealthy and raised his hands. “I’m done. If you got a lick of sense, Ajax, you’ll follow me.”

The remaining three glanced at each other nervously, staying put.

The girl moaned and sat up, holding her jaw, looking a little worse for wear. Tears bubbled in her eyes that she angrily wiped away and she appeared younger than Creek had first thought. Somewhere about eleven or so he figured.

One of the fools went for his gun and Creek fired, striking the weapon, sending it flying from the man’s hand.

Smoke curled from the barrel of his Colt as Creek sent a hard glare around the group, grating out, “Anyone else want to try?”

* * * *

This is Book 1 of a ten book multi-author series called Gun For Hire. Here’s a list of authors: Margaret Tanner, Charlene Raddon, Heather Blanton, Carra Copelin, Jo-Ann Roberts, Caroline Clemmons, Tracy Garrett, Cheryl Pierson, and Winnie Griggs.

Creek released on Saturday, March 15 and is available now.

About Linda:

In my twenty plus years of publishing, I’ve put out over 50 novels and short stories and along the way I became a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. My interest in reading and history came when I was a little girl, so it was no surprise when I began writing western historical romances. I reside in West Texas on land the American Indian and Comancheros once roamed, where ghosts from the past lurk around every corner. Humble roots and the love of family have become focal points of each book I write. I really love the depth that children and animals bring to my stories.

What’s ahead? I’m working on a new series that’s all mine this time. Book 1 is The Quest and the first of my McIntyre series. It’ll release later in the year.

Deepest thanks to D.L. Finn for spotlighting this new western romance.

Amazon Buy Link:

https://amzn.to/4gM8NzT

YouTube Book Trailer:

https://youtu.be/klqgMSsBgak?si=WRHUEeeteuf4rmta