Friday, October 19, 2018


Hi All!

Welcome to another WEP Challenge. October is the month for mysticism of all sorts. SO the prompt is Deja Vu or Voodoo.

So appropriate, don't you think?
There are some incredible entries this month, so I do hope you plan to visit the other authors at the WEP site, who put their talents to the test. You will not be disappointed.

My entry is an excerpt from my current work in progress MOMMY KAY. If you recall, I had submitted an early snippet from this memoir for the ROADS LESS TRAVELED prompt and won! Still so excited about that~ if you have the time and would like to familiarize yourself with Mommy Kay here is the link.

Before you read my entry, I'd like to give you a bit of back story. Mommy Kay and her daughter, Kim are visiting the impoverished Island of Haiti, the week after the Dictator, "Papa Doc" Duvalier died and his son was newly sworn in as President for Life. 

The now, fifteen-year-old Kim, didn't want any part of this trip, but Mommy ALWAYS got her way. 

During their visit to Haiti, Kim mainly stayed at the hotel. Mommy Kay would be gone for hours at a time. She was up to something, and Kim knew what it was. Mommy Kay had a new obsession. She wanted to experience a Haitian Voodoo ritual. 

This scene opens with Mommy Kay and Kim about to partake in the mysterious world of Haitian Voodoo. It is written in Kim's POV. I hope you enjoy this little teaser at approx. 800 words.

The hotel seemed eerily quiet. We met no one on the elevators or as we walked toward the back entrance.

Antoine was waiting for us in a beat-up jalopy. Through the open window he said, “Welcome my friends.” His heavy Haitian accent had a slight quiver to it.

Mommy sat next to him in the front seat and I slid into the back. Next to me was a large bottle of rum and a box of cuban cigars. Antoine started the car and off we went into the night. The twitchy manner in which he drove didn’t help the situation. Sweat beaded on my face.

“Where exactly are we going, Antoine?” I asked after a long pause of silence.

“Porte au Prince.”

“I figured that, but exactly where?”

He didn’t answer.

We drove on the main road and arrived downtown. The stench from the garbage in the streets overpowered the musky smell of human sweat and the lingering of cooked food. Several people sat on the sidewalks outside their front doors. Their haughty looks staring at us as we drove by. We turned up a side street. At the top of the hill we stopped abruptly. 

“We get out here,” Antoine said in a low voice.

“Kimmie, bring the rum and cigars. They’re a present for the high priest.”

My shaky hands gathered them up, and I exited the car. Antoine and Mommy were a few steps ahead of me. They stopped and faced a peeling red door.

“We go in here.” Antoine turned the handle.

He entered.

Mommy followed with her head lowered. I wondered what she was feeling. She moved normally, however my legs shook as I stepped inside the dimly lit room. Flickering candles from a ceiling chandelier created dark shadows that performed a savage dance on the rough stained walls. Hundreds of scattered bones, entrails, and piles of white feathers littered the floor. A pungent smell of years of decay, cajun incense, and dried blood loomed heavily in the air.

I dug my fingers into Mommy’s fleshy arm. “Are you sure about this?” I whispered. That’s fresh blood on the walls.”


She shrugged away her arm.

Antoine moved a few paces ahead of us.

“It is time.” He pointed his finger up. “Follow me.” 

 Unidentified things squelched under our feet as we made our way toward a staircase at the back of the room. Antoine disappeared in a sea of creaks as he ascended. Mommy followed, squeezing between the walls of the narrow entrance. It was my turn now. I sucked in a deep breath and held it. 

Thump, thump, thump, pounded inside of my head as I climbed each of the rickety stairs. My heart threatened to tear away from my chest. 

Mommy’s breathing increased as we turned up the next flight. 

Then the next.

As we confronted the final flight, she stopped, clutching her heaving chest. “I-I need to catch my breath—go—a-head, Kim-mie.”

“No way.”


Antoine climbed back down and stared at us. “We must not keep him waiting.” His voice cracked.

I stepped over Mommy and continued up the stairs. My legs grew heavy as if hundred pound weights were attached to them. Mommy’s stomping feet and raspy breathes kept up with my slower pace.

At the top of the stairs, hundreds of candles flickered in the room. Beams of moonlight filtered through the five large open windows. A soft chanting and distant drum beat played, as a shadow appeared across a fraying, thin drape.

Mommy stepped into the room, panting.

“He is in our presence. Keep silent until he addresses you,” Antoine whispered.

A massive figure stepped out of the shadows. Yellow light glinted off a jewel encrusted medallion and rows of heavy gold chains. His frame was cloaked in black robes, and on top sat an elaborate plumed headdress.

The whites of his eyes shown through midnight blue-black skin. 

“I know what you seek. Leave your offerings.”

I couldn’t move. This being nailed me to the floor. 

Antoine pried the rum and cigars from my hands, then bowed and placed the offerings at his feet.

A split second later, the voodoo priest disappeared.

“We must follow him,” Antoine said as he took hold of Mommy’s arm and dragged her through the drape.

I was convinced Antoine planned to have us sacrificed. And me, still a virgin. How appropriate. The beating drums grew louder and more sporadic. Or was it my heart? I wasn’t quite sure.

“Come, Kimmieeeee!” Mommy’s voice echoed through the rising of the heretic chants.

I willed myself to move. My left foot slid a few inches, followed by my body. 

And then, as if by some strange, dark force, a dusty wind swirled around me. 

I was swept through the curtain, my destiny unknown.

Well that's it! I hope you enjoyed it. All feedback will be greatly appreciated.

Have a WONDERFUL weekend everyone!

Wednesday, October 3, 2018


Hi All,

A crisp breeze is in the air and Autumn is here! How fast has this year gone? Already October and Christmas is just around the corner.

It always amazes me how fast time is flying by. Imagine, this month is my EIGHT year BLOGAVERSARY! Eight years in this wonderful community. I have learned so much about support, dedication, friendship, and even love... love for writing. For the first forty plus years of my life, my only interest was in the arts: drawing, painting, illustration, and music. Although I always enjoyed reading, I never would have dreamed I would be a writer. It's amazing how versatile a person can be once their livelihood is in jeopardy. Back in 2008 the real estate market had crashed and so did my interior design business. 

Books saved my life and that's when I realized I wanted to write. I wrote my first MG fantasy novel. All 125K words of it. LOL  I hear you all laughing. But from that first book I met all of you. The support from more experienced writers helped me so much. And only a few short years later, our friend, Alex Cavanaugh created the IWSG! And look at it today! It's a force of it's own, helping hundreds, maybe even thousands of writers. Let's all give a CHEER for ALEX and the IWSG! ALL of it's members are here to HELP and to receive HELP from the group. That is the beauty of this group!

If you aren't apart of it yet, it takes just one click...sign up here.

My insecurities this month are the same as many of you. Is my work good enough? Will I finish that first draft in time? Can I get through all the editing without giving up? Will I find a home for my new baby? These are all questions that plague us. It is part of all of our journeys. But how do we keep motivated? How do we not GIVE UP? The last is a LOADED question. I have asked myself that one many, many times over the years. 

The answer is not easy. How long do we keep trying? ..... As long as it takes for us to achieve our goals. Yes, we will fall flat on our faces. Yes, we will bury ourselves in life's issues. But the bottom line is.... we are writers and we HAVE TO WRITE! SO like all of you, I will carry on, no matter how long my journey takes. will, too.

Keep going my friends... Keep writing and when it gets tough, pick up one of your favorite books and think about how long it took your favorite writer to get that book in your hands...


PS... I am continually being thrown out of my blogger sign I am having the hardest time leaving comments. I am visiting, but my comments are not posting. Anyone else having this problem today?