Write-O-Ween, Day 7: Until Death Do Us Part


Moira raced across the park, jumping over a bench as she spotted him.

Devin. The once love of her life. The one who broke her physically and mentally in the name of some long lost God. The reason she had to make this choice.

He was going faster than normal. She figured that was the demon in him. Lucky for her, she knew how to keep up.

As he ran towards a stone bridge, Moira closed the gap between them. “DEVIN,” she shouted again. “You have nowhere to run anymore.”

He stopped and turned, facing towards her with an evil grin. Moira felt a pang in her center. One of familiarity. One of love. One of fear. “Oh, but darling, you know that isn’t true.”

Moira reached behind her head for the hilt of her sword. “I really don’t want to hear why, but I know you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Devin chuckled at that as he walked over to the side of the bridge, leaning against it. “It’s because of power, my dear. I know you have it now too, but mine is more ancient. More primal. Means I always have an escape.”


“Plus you? You can’t kill me. Face it, Moira dearheart. We are forever intwined. Till death do us pa-”

Moira withdrew her sword, causing Devin to fall silent for a second, then laugh again. “Well, I guess that’s my cue.”

“Don’t you da-”

Before Moira could finish closing in on him, Devin jumped up onto the railing of the bridge before jumping off of it. Quickly, Moira scrambled up it to look down the side.

The creek ran smoothly. No sign of him anywhere.

Moira sighed as she sat down on the railing. Once again, he was gone, and perhaps she only had herself to blame.

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Write-O-Ween, Day 6: Dark Secrets

Kitty knew something was up with Leona Anderson.

Leona was too perfect to be a grieving widow. Too unmournful. She lived with a grieving widow. A grieving widow doesn’t talk about the unsolved murder of her husband like a boring day at the market.

Kitty tapped at her notes and groaned. She was putting too much of her own prejudices into this investigation. She was a journalist. She had to be objective. She could practically hear her editor accusing her of being overemotional and that he should have never given her this assignment. She had to prove him wrong and her gut feeling right, but how?

Whatever dark secrets Leona Anderson was hiding, Kitty Von Vaughn was going to find them.

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Write-O-Ween, Day 5: Skeleton In The Closet

“Magda, dear?”

Magda looked up from her spell book, tucking the raven’s feather in her hand in the page. “Yes, Billie love?”

Billie pouted her bright red lips as she reached into the closet and pulled out a human skeleton hanging on a metal stand. As it rattled, Magda felt her lips twitch into a smile. “Tell me why we have a literal skeleton in our closet?”

“Well, Charles needs dance practice.”

“Dancing with the skeleton or making the skeleton dance?”

“He didn’t quite say. I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Billie just lovingly shook her head as she pushed the skeleton back in and pulled a coat down from a hanger. “You two are lucky I love you.”

Magda giggled as she went back to the book, flicking the feather away with a gentle flick and watching it spin and float in midair.”I think we’re lucky that we have a closet big enough to fit a skeleton in there.”

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Write-O-Ween, Day 4: Lunar Eclipse/Red Moon

Sid laid out the blanket under the dim lights of Inman Park, settling for a somewhat crooked view of the moon before the eclipse.

Susie had warned her against going out as she had put on her coat for the night. “Really? It’s a red moon! You don’t know what’s going to come out there! You’re not exactly armed to the teeth like me over here.”

“It’ll be okay,” Sid had assured her, looking up at the woman who had nearly a foot on her. “I got Johnny.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Cujo at full steam.”

Sid shook her head at the memory as she sat on the blanket and looked towards the edge of the park. “You still there, Johnny?”

With a growl and a snap of its teeth, a large and scruffy black dog emerged from the shadows of the park. Its eyes were transfixed on Sid as it slowly advanced in.

Most people would feel fear at this moment. Instead, Sid held out her arms. “Come here, love.”

The dog walked over to her slowly, as if it was anticipating something behind her. Finally, it walked up to her at full posture before dropping down and sitting its head on her shoulder. Sid wrapped her arms around its neck, feeling its rough fur against her. “Hey, knew you were still there. Susie doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Though, gotta make sure we don’t fall asleep here. I didn’t pack extra clothes.”

A gruff noise came from the dog’s mouth before he laid down on the blanket next to her. Sid laid back, resting her head against his middle. “Yeah, Susie doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Just because you tore up her Xena comics during a red moon that one time… Though you should probably replace those, Johnny boo.”

A whine.

“Honey, it’s been two years. Just take her to a comic shop already and do it. Christ.”

She opened up a bag of chips and handed one to Johnny, who snapped it it up immediately. As the clouds cleared and made the eclipse more clear, Sid sighed happily as she nuzzled against Johnny’s fur. “No, really. Don’t let me fall asleep out here, okay? It’s cold.”

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Write-O-Ween, Day 3: Zombie/Graveyard

Moira listened to the sounds of the night as the leaves crunched under her heavy boots. The graveyard was quiet. Not in the “a few crickets here, a hum of a lamp there” way. Actually quiet. Eerily so.

She pulled her jacket in closer to her as she patrolled, her headlamp casting dim red light ahead of her. She had fantasies about this sort of thing years ago when she was younger and dumber. About patrolling through graveyards, fighting vampires and zombies. A dashing and brooding hero watching her from a distance, admiring her moxie as she took out the creatures that went bump in the night.

Moira wished sometimes that she could tell her past self to stop watching supernatural teen dramas and to face reality. That she got her brooding hero, but he wasn’t exactly what it was all cracked up to be. That she had to choose a curse in order to live like herself again.

Something skittered across Moira’s view and she jumped back. Slowly, she tightened the grip on the knife at her hip. “Show yourself, you little bastard beastie…”

A low growl came from the headstone closest to her. She turned to see a small black creature the size of a cat, gripping onto the headstone with sharp claws and staring at her with red eyes that washed out in the lamplight. It hissed at her, the sound unearthly to Moira’s human ears.

She smirked as she pulled the knife out, feeling her claws growing in around the hilt. “Don’t worry, little one. This’ll be over quick.”

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Write-O-Ween, Day 2: Vampire/Ghost

Note: this is a prequel to a currently unfinished comics project

Nancy hated vampire parties. They were always such a drag.

Granted, she had only been going to vampire parties for three years, but she knew a drag when she saw a drag and vampire parties were always it.

It was bad enough that she would spend so much of her favorite holiday surrounded by self-important men who died long before she did would needlessly flap their lips to try and impress her with their “worldy” ways, but then she had to deal with her sire pretending not to see her.

Katya. Tall, gorgeous and Russian. Nancy was never certain of how old she was, but she knew she called herself a “Night Witch” at one point in her life. She was so cool. It was easy for Nancy as a sickly human to fall in love. Though Katya didn’t feel the same. A bite, a screw, and then she flew the coop. Now she acted like Nancy was a ghost. Either invisible or unwanted.

Nancy sighed as she pushed the ice cubes around in her drink. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to go out and dance or trick or treat. It was Halloween after all. Instead, she had to surround herself with “her own kind” in some desperate hope to make friends. Except no one here wanted to be her friend. They just wanted to screw.

“Excuse me, miss…”

“Buzz off, Dracula,” Nancy muttered without even looking up at the man. If one more pasty dude who got changed in the mid-1800s was going to hit on her, she was going to walk out of this party with a head as a party favor.

The other vampire huffed and walked away without another word. Nancy smirked to herself as she took a sip of her drink. That’s what she thought.

“A bit harsh, young one.”

Nancy perked up a little. A woman’s voice this time. She looked up and immediately felt herself blushing, though that may have been the blood. In front of her was prim and proper looking woman who looked like she was out of one of those history textbooks she barely paid attention to in school. Long dress, pretty eyes, brown wavy hair pulled back into a bun with feathers. Nancy had to be dreaming. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly interested in the guys that hang around these places.”

“Neither am I,” the woman sighed as she took the chair across from Nancy, sitting up way straighter than her. Ankles crossed, parasol place in front of her like a royal scepter. Nancy fumbled a bit as she attempted to fix her own posture. “In my experience, vampire men are so droll. Perhaps why I don’t come to these events that much.”

“You’re a smarter woman than I, lady,” Nancy admitted, pushing some of her blonde hair away from her face. “I keep coming to these things in hope that I’ll find something that I’m looking for, but I don’t even know if that’s here…”

“Well, what are you looking for?”

Nancy looked at the woman, who was now leaning forward ever so slightly with interest. Was this even real? “I don’t know. Not a man, obviously. Or maybe if the right one ever walked up. But I want fun! I want excitement. I don’t want to be surrounded by self-importance that makes you think you’re too good to dance when ‘Twist and Shout’ comes on or that makes you think being tall, dark and sad is better than free candy.”

“Then why are you here if that’s what you want?”

Nancy looked away, her heart dropping to her stomach. “I… I don’t know. I guess when you become a vampire, you’re supposed to surround yourself with other vampires and be that kind of self-important forever.”

“Well, there’s no rule I’ve ever seen that says that. And I’ve probably been this way a lot longer than you, from the looks of it.”

Nancy stared at the bright orange fabric of her own mini-dress compared to the darker colors of the other woman’s longer dress. She was right about multiple things, this was true. Maybe Nancy could be just as right about something too. “You wanna get out of here then? I think we could still find a house or two still giving out candy.”

The other woman’s lip twitched at that, nearly forming a smile. “I don’t know. I don’t exactly run off with other women whose name I don’t know.”

“Nancy,” she replied with a grin. “Like Sinatra.”

“Louise,” the other woman replied, holding her hand out. “Like Brooks.”

Nancy took Louise’s hand and pulled her out of her chair. Louise made a slight noise of surprise at first, but it was soon followed by a peal of laughter that made whatever was left of Nancy’s heart melt. “Well then, c’mon, Lou Lou. Let’s blow this party.”

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Write-O-Ween, Day One: Blood/Flesh/Bone

Not too long ago on Twitter, I found this image with writing prompts for October. I’ve been meaning to work on my original fiction writing for a while, so this will be an outlet to do so! Some of it will be from other universes I’ve worked in. Others might be brand new to me. Either way, should be fun.

Here’s the prompt list below…



The witch was awoken from his sleep at the familiar shout of a monster hunter. Susie Essell, if Marcus Bernard had to wager a guess. For those in his community, he told them to call them before coming over unless it was a dire emergency. Susie was usually good about that, so the fact she was outside of his window right now shouting must mean it was an emergency.

He flipped on his lamp before stumbling out of bed and looking out the window. Outside was Susie, tall and frantic, her face splashed in dirt and blood after a night of work. Beside her was Johnny Price, her right hand man in all things monster hunting. Between them, they held a body. Johnny looked especially distraught as he looked at it, whispering nervously to the soul inside of it. “Marcus, Sid is down! We need help!”

As Marcus’ eyes adjusted to the darkness outside, he saw that the body was indeed Sidney Livingston. Their repairwoman and secretary. Johnny’s lover. Very green compared to Susie and Johnny.

Well, if the stripes in her skin were any indicator, very blue.

That wasn’t good.

“I’ll be right down! Bring her through the back!”

Without a second thought, Marcus rushed downstairs in his pajamas. He knew it made him look like an old man, but he didn’t really have time to focus on such things as his own vanity. He scrambled to unlock the backdoor that lead into his kitchen, not registering that he had succeeded in doing so until the two of them pushed through the door and laid Sid out on the table. Behind them, Bianca Plum practically floated in, her face screwed with concern over her friends. Marcus had never been one to allow vampires into his home, but Bianca was such a special case.

Marcus slammed the door behind him and immediately flipped on the light. He looked over at Bianca, her prone form groaning as Johnny held onto her hand. “What happened to her?”

“We were dealing with some sort of flame lizard infestation near the East Lake golf course when Sid fell into some sort of trap,” Susie said, crossing her arms as she stepped back from the table. “I thought it was dwarf magic at first, but then she passed out and those stripes started growing across her skin. I… I don’t know if I recognize it.”

“It’s not your fault, Susanna,” Marcus whispered, his voice soft as he looked over Sid, gently touching her arm and face with his earth callused hands. “You are a smart woman, but you don’t have to know everything. You’re not far off about it being dwarf based, but it looks to be a lot of dark fae involved here…”

“Can they even do that,” Johnny asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Faeries are persistent creatures,” Marcus said sagely, retrieving a book from his shelf. “You should know this, Johnny. Especially when it comes to dark fae twisting the magic of others. I’ve seen this happening a fair amount lately, where innocent dwarf tricks are turned sour by malicious fae. It can be fixed though if we hurry.”

Johnny sighed in relief as Marcus set to work, opening the book and puttering around his kitchen for the ingredients. Pieces of rosemary, a dash of flame lizard scales and ginger, mugwort, griffin’s milk, crushed riverling bones, honeysuckle and… “Hmm.”

“‘Hmm’ what,” Johnny asked.

“Well the recipe calls for something unusual…”

“Blood of fire,” Bianca whispered, her voice just as far off as her gaze.

“Well, close,” Marcus replied. He pointed at the page. “It says here that the blood of a blue fire witch is needed to bind it?”

Everyone in the room looked up at Susie, who’s eyes grew wide as she tried to shrink back towards the wall. “But I’m not a witch! The magic in my blood is so… dim…”

“Suze, Sid is dying right now. Now is not the time for semantics!”

“Johnny is right, dear,” Marcus admitted as he dumped the ingredients he had gathered into a pot over his stove. “You are the descendant of blue fire witches. Their magic runs in your blood. We don’t have time to go out there and search for a full blooded blue fire witch. You’re it, baby girl.”

Susie sighed as she stepped out of the corner, pulling a knife from her boot as she did. She walked over to the pot and looked down at Marcus. “Do you need to do this or me?”

“It needs to be given freely. That knife iron?”


“Close enough for jazz.”

Susie nodded as she stood over the pot. She took a deep breath as she held her palm out over the pot. With only a small bit of hesitation, she cut at her palm and watched as the blood dripped down into the pot. As the mixture began to hiss, Marcus pushed her away. “That’s more than enough.”

He stood over the stove, mixing what was in the pot with an iron spoon and humming a song of a language long lost. Behind him, he could hear Bianca lapping up the remains of Susie’s blood as Johnny continued to whisper to a groaning Sid. After what felt like an eternity, the steam rising from the pot turned green. “Okay, I think we’re ready. Prop her up.”

As Marcus poured the mixture into a smaller bowl, Johnny, Susie and Bianca helped sit her up. Her head lulled back initially, but Bianca held it steady. “Easy, Sid. You’re not joining me today.”

Between her parted lips and labored breaths, Marcus slowly poured the mixture into Sid’s mouth. When it was gone, he gently pressed her jaw closed as he tilted her head back. Her breathing began to even as she swallowed the last of the mixture. “When will it start working,” Johnny asked.

Before Marcus could answer, Sid took a sharp inhale as her eyes snapped opened. She began to cough as the stripes on her skin began to fade. “Holy shit, what happened? And why do I feel like I just drank perfume and blood?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Susie admitted, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Oh thank god,” Johnny cried, wrapping his arms around her.

Sid made an “oof” noise in surprise, but softened as she held his head. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m still here.”

Susie sighed in relief as she looked at Marcus. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, Susanna. Now, let me see about that cut on your hand. And maybe some chocolate for Bianca.”

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