Posted in Fiction

An Eerie Scent of Roses (Part V)

Later that evening, the Detective called me back.

            “Miss Blake, I checked on that janitor. He said he had forgotten that he had taken Mr. Dodge’s key off his ring so that he could get a new one made. Apparently, the old one wasn’t opening the door. So, it looks as if Mr. Dodge is our culprit.

            “Oh, thank God. It’s over. Thank you so much, detective.”

            “Don’t mention it.”

            “Did you arret him at work?”

            “No. Early this morning before he left for work. I made him call in sick.”


            Back at the precinct, a Detective Blanche was questioning Mr. Dodge about the phone calls. “Why did you terrorize Amanda Blake?”

            “I’m telling you that I didn’t.”

            “Oh ya? You said you were inn your office at the times those calls were made, correct?”


            “Then you made them.”

            “No, I didn’t.”

            “Okay, smarty pants, then tell me how you didn’t make phone calls from your office when you were there.”



            “You heard me. Computers. Somehow you can make it look as though a phone call is coming from somewhere else other than the real place they’re calling from. It’s done through the computer using the phone lines.”

            “How do you know all this?”

            “I watch a lot of television.”

            “Damn. Back to square one.”


            I went to bed early that night, to get caught up on my sleep. In the middle of the night, I woke up to a scratching noise. The clock display read 11:00 pm.

            “Brandy, is that you chewing on paper again? You’re a good dog normally, but when you wake me up, it’s another story.”

            “Noooooooo, iiiiiiiit’s meeeeeee. You are mine. I must have you,” the voice slowly whispered.

            “Who is it? Who’s there? Whoever you are, get out of my house,” I said, as my voice shook with fear. I could smell that eerie scent of roses that came with that note yesterday.

            “I seeeeee youuuuuuuu. I am in your mind, and I am part of you now.”

            “No, no, no, no! You’re in jail, the police arrested you. Leave me alone.”

            “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha… It worked like a charm, didn’t it?”

            I couldn’t quite place where the voice was coming from. I got up out of bed and frantically felt my way in the dark for the light switch by the door. Finding it, I turned it on. But there was nobody there. From somewhere in the house, I heard a faint tap, tap, tap. I tip toed out of the room and into the hall. Again, I heard tap, tap, tap. Where was Brandy? As I got to the living room, I turned on the light, but then shrank back in horror at the sight of Brandy’s bloody body on the floor. In the corner, hanging from the ceiling, was a dummy that looked like me. It was holding a dark red rose in its mouth. In its hand was a note that read:

You’re next, Amanda

            Tears began to stream down my face. Just then, I noticed a car coming up the driveway. Who could that be at this hour? A few minutes alter the bell rang. I quickly put an afghan around me and opened the door. It was Dan. I looked at him suspiciously and said, “What are you doing out so late?”

            “I was on my way home from the football game between the Sea Hawks and Miami and thought I’d drive by to see if everything was okay. Now that they caught the guy. Amanda, you’re crying. What’s wrong?”

            “Help me, Dan. He, I, he… My dog is dead.”

            He ran past her and into the living room.

            “We have to call the police. Here, sit down and try to stay calm. I’ll go call the police.”

            “Ask to talk to Detective Blanche.”

            “Detective Blanche please.” Silence. “Yes, detective, someone has been in Amanda’s house. They’ve killed her dog.” Silence. “Yes, Detective. Yes… yes… Okay, bye.”

            He sauntered into the living room with a big grin on his face.

            “Are they coming?”



            “You see, I really didn’t call them.”

            “What do you mean. I heard you. Wait a minute. How did you know that someone had been arrested? I mean, no one knew that accept me and Detective Blanche. It was you, all this time. But I just saw you drive into my driveway. You couldn’t possibly have just been here, and you said you had just come from the football game.”

            With a devilish grin, he said, “You’re so gullible. I parked my car around the corner of your house. Perfect, don’t you think? And now, since the police have their man in jail, no one will be able to help you now.”

            I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. I wanted to scream, but my scream was silent. He moved over to me and gently caressed my cheek. I wanted to tell him to stop, but m lips were frozen. I was trembling with fear. Finally, I found my voice. “Leave me alone!” I pulled away from him and started to run to the door, but he blocked me.

            Slowly, he walked toward me.

            I moved back.

            I could hardly breath.

            My heart was beating fast.

            My legs were rubber, and I couldn’t move fast enough. I tried to make a run for the back door, but still he caught me. He turned me around to face him and threw me to the floor. I tried to get up, but he was on top of me in an instant, ripping my clothes off and hitting me as I tried to fight him hopelessly.

            At that moment, both the back and front door flew open. Detective Blanche and his men poured through the doors with guns in their hands.

            “Hold it, buddy. Stand up and put your hands on your head.”

            Dan just sat there.

            “Do it!”

            After Dan arose, I got up and, in a hurry, put the afghan around me.

            “Detective, how did you know? He said he didn’t call you?”

            “I never took the tap off your phone. We heard that call he supposedly made to me. It was obvious that he wasn’t talking to me, so I figured something had to be up. By the way, I took the liberty of contacting your Aunt Helen. I told her to come over here, that you might need her.”


            The next day I didn’t get up until 12:00 noon. When I walked into the kitchen, Aunt Helen came over to me and gave me a big hug. “Detective Blanche came over this morning to see how you were doing. I told him you were still asleep and shouldn’t be disturbed. He also told me something very interesting.

            “What’s that?”

            “He said that after arresting Mr. Hastings, he ran a check on him. Apparently, he’s wanted in California for rape, and that his real name is Doug Frier. He’s also wanted for illegal computer hacking.”

            “So that’s how he got my new phone number.”

            “That’s right.”

            The thought of last night ran a chill up my spine. Aunt Helen saw me shiver and said, “Oh, come now, love. You’re going to be just fine.”

The End

Posted in Fiction

An Author’s Journey Pictorial (Fun with Pictures)






Photo by Ron Lach on


Photo by Ken Tomita on


Photo by d.n.c films on
Posted in Fiction


Years ago my then husband and I traveled from Michigan to Georgia to visit a friend. On our way down we stopped at Rock City Gardens, Georgia because we had heard about lookout where you could view Seven States at once. Once there, in order to get to the lookout, we had to walk through some beautiful gardens on our way up. Our last obstacle standing in our way was a rope bridge we had to cross in order to get to the lookout on the other side.

Yes, sometimes there are obstacles in our way when we want something. Some are small and some are heart stopping to the point where you don’t know if you can overcome that obstacle. Let me tell… can. It might take someone else’s help to get you through it or over it, but you will.

Posted in Fiction, Poetry

Weeds of Life: a Sonnet by L. M. Montes

A daydream takes the mind upon a flight
of visions dancing ‘cross the brain of sight,
imagine if you can a tale of weeds
clawed and deep within the flowers of seed,
choking out such beauty to die and bend
never to grow up but meet its end,
but fingers claw and pull out from the muck
life’s problems sewing in and now are stuck,
yank once then twice and thrown aside and out
of God’s garden that man has strewn about,
at last sun’s rays uplift His color wheel
of blooms with sweetest scents that touch and heal
our body, mind, and soul from evil’s clutches,
blessing all who bow, and Jesus touches.

Posted in Fiction, Poetry

Hanging by His Hand by L. M. Montes

The present is but a wave
creeping toward the shore,
then in a breath it’s gone–
backwards evermore.

In life our friends and family,
warm our hearts and stay,
in our minds and in our soul,
then gone to our dismay.

Time’s wind blows at vicious speeds,
our memories we take hold,
that is all we have one day,
when we are growing old.

Alone we feel when most are gone,
as to the grave they go,
where does one lean in nothingness,
no one is there, you know.

But Christ is here and looking down,
and sees our pain that stands,
His love surrounds and comforts,
as you’re hanging by His hand.

by L. M. Montes

Posted in Fiction

World Building

What’s in the world around you? Do you at times cringe at what you see? Do you take pleasure in what beauty befalls your eyes at various times? Or do you turn your back on it and say “BAH”? Well, I say there should be a happy medium of both good and bad and then make it what you will.

When we as adults are learning something (whatever it may be), be bring to this new knowledge our prior experiences so as to make comparisons. In turn this brings understanding. Plus, we can use the prior experiences of others to learn from as well. What you are doing here is building your knowledge, increasing it even, so you can draw upon it later and use it.

In creating a fictional world, we are doing essentially the same thing. We draw upon what we know of our everyday world around us and places we’ve traveled to and fictionalize them, or we use bits and pieces of it and create a world of fantasy and magic.

Use what you see. Take notes of it. Brainstorm ways you can use it. Draw a map of your created world. But don’t stop there. There is more to world building than its looks/appearance. Made up world have their own government, gods, religion, beings, environment, etc. Below are some links to some great books on world building.

Posted in Fiction

Villanelle II by L. M. Montes

Dancing along the grass of day
The breeze does waltz in step,
Whistling a song in a joyous way.

Sandy beaches, lush and light, on you I lay,
Arms of waves roll in with gentle stretch,
Dancing along the grass of day.

Cliffs afar loom as if to say,
Do not climb me now you little wretch,
Whistling a song in a joyous way.

Horizons brag a darkening sun that lays,
Adrift and buoyant and sleep is next,
Dancing along the grass of day.

Clouds aloft do witness in dismay,
All that was and is on oceans decks,
Whistling a song in a joyous way.

For you I give this rose in May,
With a ring of old and I thee wed,
Whistling a song in a joyous way,
Dancing along the grass of day.

by L. M. Montes

Posted in Fiction

A Day at the Beach by L. M. Montes

Smooth water,
turquoise blue,
sunny sands,
lie under you.
A far away voice,
and seagulls call,
to anyone out there,
where waves do fall.
A palm tree bows,
your cheek it tickles,
in breezes pushing,
from an ocean’s cold prickle.
A setting sun,
clouds fade to dark,
stars peek out,
the day is done.

by L. M. Montes

Posted in Fiction

Gimme a Break

Sometimes the words don’t come. They are there but stuck inside your head. They press against your brain, they even knock against it. But they don’t know how to make it to the page. Ahhhhh!! What do you do? I mean, yeah, you can see in our head what you want to write (we’re talking about fiction here, story writing). You see the scene. You might think it would be easy to write it out because you see it so clearly. But no.

How does that happen? Why do writers get stuck like this? I’m not talking about writers block. Writers block is when you can’t think of anything. There is nothing running through your brain. Nothing. But, with the situation mentioned in the above paragraph, the story is there, the words are there. They are just in your head rolling around.

  1. Perhaps you are trying too hard to get the scene just right.
  2. You are having a difficult time choosing the right words that will have the greatest impact on the reader. Well, you can come up with what you think is the best way to write something and someone will still be disappointed. Why? Because we can’t please everyone.

A free write is the best way to get passed this word stuckness. Just write everything down as it comes to you without worrying about the best way to say what you you want to say. Spill it all out there. When you’re done, walk away from it for a little while. Then go back, read through your free write. You will be amazed at how easy everything comes to you. You will know what to keep, what to change, and what to add.

Me? I like to think about it. Roll the scene around in my head and try out different ways of starting it (or continuing it if I’m in the middle of a scene). I have taken time off of writing for a few days, so I can think my story through. I am most comfortable with this option. I do the free write too sometimes. It just depends.