Wednesday, July 1, 2020

IWSG - Genius

IWSG Question: There have been many industry changes in the last decade, so what are some changes you would like to see happen in the next decade?

Since I don't deal with the 'industry' of writing books. I came up with my own question.

My Question:
Which would you pick: being world-class attractive, a genius or famous for doing something great?

I would not want to be world-class attractive, the attention would be extreme, and I couldn't handle that. Nor would I want to be famous for doing something great, for almost the same reason. The definition of "something great" is too open.
I'd rather be a genius; it would allow me to contribute to society on many levels. I could live with that! 😊

Which one would you pick?

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

WEP - Urban Nightmare

My Happy Home

You see a house haunted by the dead. A decaying derelict that should be brought down.
Where ghosts, ghoulies, and the boogeyman celebrate the evil that resides in the gloom.
 I know what you see, but you’re wrong.
This is my home. A mansion filled with the laughter of children, and the truth that was my life.
Yes, I’m dead. But this place isn’t. It stands as a testament to survival and to my refusal to give up and hold tight that which was mine. For he belonged to me.
This home holds my memories of happiness, love, growth, and at times despair - but always love.
You can’t see the full picture, but I do.

I still see the forget-me-nots in bloom on the lattice of the back porch. I smile at the flutter of hummingbird wings as they search out the last drop of nectar from the flowers in an overflowing garden.

I remember my husband’s smile, and the joy we both felt when he carried me over the threshold of our first home together.
I recall the nights we made love as the moonlight streamed in the large bedroom windows, and the mornings we ate breakfast in bed unwilling to leave the other.
I’ll never forget my husband’s pride when our children were born and his shock when he found them dead in their beds.
His cheating heart needed punishing.
His plan to leave us thwarted, he returned to my arms.
Our last meal together, delicious but deadly.
Now we all reside here together forever.

My home built with love.
My family created in love. 
Held dear and protected by me.
To you, it’s decaying and haunted, but in my eyes, it’s wholly happy and the most beautiful place on Earth.
Beware, for your intent to trespass is known, watched, and prepared for... 

Turn around lest you end up part of the scenery.

319 words

Yolanda Renée © 2020

Pictures by:
  Photo by Gemma Evans on Unsplash
Photo by Mike Scheid on Unsplash
Photo by Arisa Chattasa on Unsplash

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

Question - Writers have secrets! What are one or two of yours, something readers would never know from your work?

Gosh, I'm sure I've shared everything about myself. I've thought and thought and thought, and I came up with nothing unless you want to get into all my health issues. Which I prefer not to as I'm saving those for the old folks home. I mean, I'll need something to share.


The super amazing co-hosts are

Please be sure to visit and say THANK YOU!

Be sure to stop by my other blog today.
Mason Canyon of Mason Book Tours 
is having a 

A Free Tour!


And don't forget this is the month for the 
WEP-IWSG Challenge


 And in closing...

“Be the change that you wish to see in the world.”

Mahatma Gandhi

Wednesday, May 6, 2020

IWSG - Meditation

May 6 Question - Do you have any rituals that you use when you need help getting into the ZONE? Care to share?

My favorite is to take my notebook out onto the patio and just mellow. A cup of tea and quiet time is my meditation. Yesterday I wrote over 5000 words of a new novel because I allowed myself to ignore everything in the outside world. I’ll be honest sometimes it works better than others, but on the whole, it’s served me well.


The co-hosts are Feather Stone, Beverly Stowe McClure, Mary Aalgaard, Kim Lajevardi, & Chemist Ken! Please be sure to visit and say THANK YOU!

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”―Oscar Wilde

Monday, May 4, 2020

Thank You, For Hosting Murder, Just Because!

To all those who hosted Murder, Just Because.
I say ‘THANK YOU’ from the bottom of my heart!

Denise @ Denise Covey
LuAnn Worley @ Rockin’ Book Reviews
Cathrina @ Constantine
Elizabeth Spann Craig @ Mystery Writing is Murder
L Diane Wolfe @ Spunk on A Stick
Shannon Lawrence @ The Warrior Muse
Bish Denham @ Random Thoughts
Susan Flett Swiderski @ I Think: Therefore, I Yam
Juneta Key @ Writer’s Gambit
H. R. @ H.R. Sinclair
Beverly Stowe McClure @ The Story of A Writer
Chrys Fey @ Write with Fey
Jemi Fraser @ Just Jemi
Mason Canyon @ Thoughts in Progress
Madhuri Palaji @ The Clipped Nightingale
Kathleen Kelly @ Celticlady’s Reviews
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Monday, April 20, 2020

"dispel their sorrows"

Photo by Tim de Groot on Unsplash

Omy God!  O Thou forgiver of sins, bestower of gifts, dispeller of afflictions! 

Verily, I beseech thee to forgive the sins of such as have abandoned the physical garment and have ascended to the spiritual world. 

O my Lord!  Purify them from trespasses, dispel their sorrows, and change their darkness into light.  Cause them to enter the garden of happiness, cleanse them with the most pure water, and grant them to behold Thy splendors on the loftiest mount.


It may seem odd on such a blog to see this post. But the virus doesn't distinguish any of us from the other. The virus's only goal is to kill, maim, destroy, and leave the world in complete and utter mourning. Our family has been touched by this scourage. I offer this prayer for all those we have lost.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

WEP - Vessel of Evil

Vessel of Evil

Carole put the last book into the box, closed, then sealed it with packing tape. “Done, done, and done,” she said proudly. “Just in time for lunch too. All that's left to do is load the truck, drive to Goodwill and drop some of this off, then take the rest home. I bet we make several hundred dollars on eBay for these items.”

“I’m glad your uncle kept the good stuff in the original boxes. I say we’ll do as good as a thousand dollars," Jerry said as he kicked at a pile of crumpled newspapers on the floor. “Ouch!” He groaned and rubbed his toe then knelt to pick up the item he kicked. “What in the world?” He held up a large, iridescent vase with silver veining.

Carol laughed. “The old doorstop.”

Jerry inspected the fifteen-inch-tall, blue-green iridescent vase and repeated her words – "doorstop? It looks like a vase or an urn."

“Well, obviously it’s a vase. Urns have lids, but someone filled it with cement, and now it’s only good as a doorstop. At least that’s what Uncle Joe used it for. Although he did say it’d been in the family long before he came along.”

“Is it worth anything?”

“Sentimental value only. The appraiser said any value became moot when it was filled with cement.”

“What do you want to do with it?”

“I’d like to keep it. It’ll remind me of Uncle Joe and his crazy stories. He used to tell some doozies, and I swear that vase would get brighter the spookier they were. It’s funny that you mentioned an urn. Uncle told a story about that once.”

“Really, what was it?”

"Sorry, my mom called me out of the room that day. But like I said, he had all kinds of stories."

Jerry scrutinized the vessel. “Really odd, but it is attractive, in a macabre sort of way. My toe did some damage but only to the cement at the top. There’s a crack, or was that there before?”

“Nope, that’s new,” Carole said as she checked the top of the vase. Sure enough, a crack about a half an inch appeared in the center of the cement that was an inch from the top of the vase’s neck. “Come on, let’s get this stuff delivered to Goodwill and get some lunch.”


Jerry finished unloading the last of the boxes from Uncle Joe’s then retrieved the vase from the back seat. He rubbed his finger across the crack and decided to investigate further. He grabbed a large file off the workbench and got to work. In an hour, Jerry had created an opening of over an inch. It was long enough and wide enough to stick a half-dollar into. But the most exciting thing he found when filing into the cement was that the bottom of the bottle was hollow.

"I just turned our doorstop into a bank." Jerry pulled a John Kennedy half dollar from his pocket and dropped it in. The next odd thing was that it didn’t make a sound. The coin just disappeared into the slot. When he shook the vessel, it was still silent. “Must be something softer inside.” he decided, as he polished the exterior and made it shine, especially the silver inlay.

In the house, he handed it to Carole. “I’ve fixed it. Now it’s a bank.”

Carole took the vase from him and laughed. “If we put money in there, how do we get it out?”

“What if we put all our silver Kennedy half dollars in it. We have a small collection of them, and we always planned to hand them down to our kids. We’ll fill it up and leave it as an heirloom.”

“I like that,” Carole said and sat the vase in a special spot on the bookshelf. “In honor of Uncle Joe! Our first family heirloom.”

That night, a dark gray cloud of smoke rose from the blue-green iridescent vase, and with it, the silver dollar floated out and plopped to the floor. The darkness swirled and circled the room, floated down the hallway, and entered the master suite. As Jerry inhaled, the gray smoke entered his nostrils and disappeared.

At 6:00 A.M. Jerry awoke to find his wife, Carole, dead beside him. She’d been eviscerated, dismembered – murdered! He was covered in her blood and held her heart in his hand.


"Well Detective, what do you make of it?” the coroner asked.

Detective Martin shook his head. “The butcher knife was found under his pillow. No sign of a break-in. No blood anywhere else in the house. Yet, he claims he’s innocent."

“But how do you kill like that then just fall asleep in the middle of it?”

“Rage? Maybe he wore himself out? Someone with more knowledge than I have is going to have to answer that question,” the Detective acknowledged.


In prison, on death row, Jerry re-lived each moment of the murder. He saw every detail, recalled the thrill of each stroke, but especially the way his knife sliced through her body like a blade through butter. But mainly how satisfying the final cut to Carole’s throat had felt. Then as the blood flowed, how he celebrated and allowed himself to shower in the spray of it. He saw it clear as day, but he had no control over his own actions. The worst of his nightmares were of the other murders. All women from Whitechapel, London. He even knew their names, Mary Ann, Annie, Elizabeth, Catherine, and Mary Jane.

A defense of insanity didn't convince the jury.

Jerry gave over to the death that awaited, knowing that soon, Jack the Ripper, would strike again.


The vase went to the highest bidder and sold for twenty-five cents at an auction to help pay for Jerry’s attorney fees.

971 Words

Yolanda Renée © 2020

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