Shining the light of God's word into our confused world.

Tag: ficlets

Free E-book: Fragments & Fancies

My new collection, Fragments & Fancies: Ficlets, Flash Fiction & Shorts is now available for FREE on Smashwords.

Here’s the official description:

Three vampires walk into a bar…

A suicidal widower is talked down by a mysterious, chain-smoking stranger with an ulterior motive…

A picturesque sea-side chalet harbors a disturbing secret under its serene waters…

A kindly grandmother runs a pie shop that is a gateway to time and space…

A mysterious house with a dark reputation tempts one bored little girl…

Angels, vampires, ghosts and faeries mingle with the lovelorn, the desperate, the weary and the brave in this collection of quick-fire stories from Restless Spirits author Jean Marie Bauhaus.

Most of these have been posted here and/or at the defunct Ficlets or the new Ficly, so long-time friends-of-the-blog have probably seen them already. But if you enjoyed them, here they are gathered up in a handy-dandy collection, along with a never-before-released excerpt from Restless Spirits.

Here’s the link again.


Ficlets Archive #5

*Note: All entries on Ficlets, including mine, are posted under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License. All unattributed writing is by me. All otherwise-attributed writing is [sic].

Two Sizes Too Small

“What the hell is that?”

It was all she could do not to drop the thing in her hands, it wriggled so much. Unfathomably, the look on her face was pure delight. “My new puppy. Isn’t she adorable?” Her voice was one octave short of a squeal.

“That is not a dog. To call it a dog is an insult to dogkind.”

“Not a dog yet.” She held it close and let it lick her face. I almost dry heaved. “Granted, she won’t get much bigger. Chihuahuas stay pretty teeny.”

A chihuahua. Great. Cheese on crackers, I hated tiny dogs. Anything smaller than a beagle was a waste of space and fur. And this abomination would fit in my shirt pocket.

“Here, hold her.” She thrust it at my face. I just stood there. It looked like it belonged in a rat trap.

Except, rats didn’t wag their tales, nor become so happy at the sight of you that their entire bodies wiggled. A strange sensation warmed my chest. I didn’t like where this was going.

She sneezed. Aw, shit. That was cute.

“Put her in my pocket,” I sighed.

She was a perfect fit.

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Ficlets Archive #4

*Note: All entries on Ficlets, including mine, are posted under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License. All unattributed writing is by me. All otherwise-attributed writing is [sic].

This is one where I cheated and kept sequeling myself to write a longer story. It’s actually a pared down, revamped version of a longer story I wrote years ago.

UPDATED because I can sign into Ficlets now.

One For the Angels (Conversations With Dead People Challenge)

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Ficlets Archive #1

*Note: All entries on Ficlets, including mine, are posted under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License. All unattributed writing is by me. All otherwise-attributed writing is [sic].


There she is, in the coffee shop window. She stares out—not at you, but toward you, not really looking at anything. Maybe at the odd snowflake drifting down from the sky.

She has all the appearance of waiting.

For someone, maybe. Her Valentine. The jerk who stood her up. A love she has yet to know.


Maybe. Maybe, you’ve been waiting for her, too.

So you go inside. She looks up. Smiles. Stands, ties on her apron, picks up her pad and pencil and asks to take your order.

She was just waiting for her break to end.

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Ficlets Archive – Head’s Up

So Ficlets is shutting down as of Thursday, and the kind folks over at AOL didn’t provide any way to archive or import entries other than “Cut & paste and get off our lawn!” Fortunately, other folks have kindly taken it upon themselves to import all unlocked entries into their own archive, but I’ll feel better if I know they’re safely stashed here for posterity (which is kind of ironic, considering LJ’s current state of financial affairs, but at least now I’ll be able to archive them with the rest of my journal).

So I’ll be posting them here over the course of the afternoon. I don’t really have that many, relative to the rest of the community, at least, and I’ll group them in threes so as not to get too spammy on y’all.

And if you’re wondering where to get your super-short story, community collaboration fix, despair not — the same folks behind the DIY archive are busy creating Ficly, aka Ficlets 2.0. Hopefully, this new version will address all of the problems with Ficlets that AOL refused to spend time or money to fix, because apparently they were too busy getting ready to kick us off of their lawn.

Ficlet: Stupid Human Tricks

I once knew this girl. She wasn’t like the rest of us. She had a special power, one that made her the envy of every woman who ever knew her.

You know how some women joke about how they just look at a piece of cake and gain two pounds? Well, for Linda it was the other way around, and it was no joke: criticize her weight, and she’d lose an ounce. Just like that.

Big deal, right? What’s an ounce? It’s not like this would get her on the Late Show or anything. You’d be surprised how fast it added up, though. By the time she finished reading a magazine she’d have lost two pounds.

Most women hated her.

But then it got dangerous. She had to stop reading magazines. She had to stop watching TV. She couldn’t go to the mall, or to the movies. She became a shut-in, and even then, she had to get rid of all her mirrors.

Too bad her biggest critic was herself.

I used to know this girl. It’s too bad, what happened to her. But I guess it was inevitable. Just didn’t think it would happen so fast, is all.


By J. M. Bauhaus. All Ficlets are written under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License.

Ficlet: Caught In the Middle

This is the seed of something that will very likely become my next NaNoWriMo project.


Splinters from the boards over the window dug into her back as strong hands pinned her there with only half as much force as they were able. She would have bruises later, but so what? The cool tongue in her mouth made her blood boil.

The boards bucked against her, knocking them both away from the window. She stumbled. He caught her (of course he did, with those amazing reflexes) but then shoved her to the ground. She skinned her palms as she landed on the concrete. “Hey!” She looked up, half expecting him to jump on top of her, and really looking forward to it. So she was a fun mix of surprised, disappointed, and turned on when she saw him ripping the zombie’s head off with his bare hands instead.

That was so gross. And so hot.

“You ok?” He wiped his hand (zombie gore, ew!) on his jeans before offering it to her. She took it, releasing the breath she’d been holding as he pulled her up.

“You kiss good for a dead guy.”

He grinned, fangs exposed. “Just one more thing the zombies and I don’t have in common.”


CC 2008 by J. M. Bauhaus