Spectral Cleaning Services: Short Story

An older piece, but it was still an amusing one. I’m not sure that I’ll be writing anything new that I can share here today. My current plans are to put some more work in on book two of the series I’m writing.

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He knew something was wrong as soon as he walked into the room. The pictures were all straight, the floors were swept, shelves were dusted, and his clothes were clean on his bed. This was not the wreck he’d left his room in.

Shepard wasn’t sure what to make of this situation. Who would sneak into someone’s house to clean it? Not anyone he knew. Moreover, he had the only key to his apartment and there was no sign that the door had been forced.

Before going any further he picked up the bat by his door. He’d never had any need for this oak bat before, but in such a strange situation he felt it would be good to have. If some deranged person with a cleaning fetish was here, he shuddered to think what they might do to him.

The carpet showed signs of having been washed recently. Recently enough that some of it was still damp. He didn’t know how long it took a carpet to dry, but he assumed that meant the culprit might still be here. 

As he took another step in, something dropped on his head. It was light, but more than enough to startle him in the situation. He was quick to swipe it off onto the floor, and it landed with barely a sound.

It was a folded piece of paper. He could see it had some kind of logo on it, and before considering picking it up he nudged it with the bat. Naturally, the piece of paper did not react to being poked. This was a good sign.

Shepard crouched down to pick it up, then inspected the logo. It was a circle with a ghost in the center, and the ghost was holding a mop and broom. The bottom text read “Spectral Cleaning Services.”

Spectral Cleaning Services wasn’t a company he’d ever heard of. He knew for sure he hadn’t hired anyone to clean his apartment, and he highly doubted the landlord had called someone. The name of the company bothered him too.

Was he supposed to believe that ghosts had come in and cleaned his apartment? On one hand it was so far-fetched that it was laughable. On the other hand, ghosts would explain how they got past a locked door. Thinking about it was making his skin crawl.

A loud ding from the air fryer on his counter made him jump a second time, and he raised the bat in case he needed to swing on something. That was when he noticed something he’d managed to miss. His apartment smelled like pizza.

He made his way over carefully with the bat still raised and ready. There were no signs of anything in the kitchen, so he set the bat on the counter. His attention then turned to the air fryer.

Sure enough when he opened it, there was a pizza waiting for him. Whoever had been here timed cooking it perfectly. He’d only been home for a few minutes, which would usually be long enough to get settled in, before it had finished.

A clean apartment and food waiting for him. This was a strange night, but he didn’t feel like it was something to complain about. He got out the pot holders and took the pizza out of the air fryer.

His stomach growled its approval over the food as he got out the pizza cutter and sliced it into wedges. When he was getting his plate out, he decided to get a second plate as well. He put two pieces on the second plate and set it on the counter.

“Thanks for helping out with things.” Shepard didn’t expect a response to that, but he felt like he should say it. He’d gotten behind on things, and the task of cleaning had been overwhelming to even think about.

He turned back to get a few slices for himself, and what he saw when he looked back caught him off guard entirely. The two slices he’d left on the plate were mostly gone. Only the crust was still there, and it had been made into strips to spell something out.

“You’re welcome.”

Writing prompt: Birds

I wrote up an example for another of the writing prompts I made for the little workshop I’m planning. This is a longer prompt, and the goal of it is to convert what’s there into a scene of your own and answer the question at the end of the prompt.

Here’s the prompt I made and used for this piece.


A man who spends a lot of time at the park has noticed something strange going on with the birds. Normally when he throws food out for them, they come right away to eat. Today when he threw the food out, none of them came. That was when he realized there were no birds overhead, nor in the trees around him. This leaves him feeling somewhat unsettled and concerned, so he decides to look around the park for an explanation. After a few minutes of searching, he finds out why there are no birds around. What did he discover?
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After a long day at the office, Gale needed to relax. His boss was on his back all day about finishing a project, and the deadline wasn’t even till next week. He’d love to tell that pompous sack to blow off, but he wasn’t ready to get fired quite yet.

There was one place he ever went to unwind after work, and that was the central park of the city. It was usually quiet there aside from the birds, but they made good company. Those birds were why he always kept a bag of seeds in his briefcase. Their soft cooing while they ate was always soothing.

The park was empty today, entirely so. There wasn’t another person anywhere in sight. That was fine with him though. Other people tended to scare off the birds, and today he wanted his peace and quiet.

“Good evening everyone.” Gale mumbled under his breath as he got the bag of seed out of his suitcase. He’d just filled it with fresh seeds this morning, so there would be plenty for the birds in the park. Once the first handful of seeds had been tossed out in front of him, he sat back to wait.

He waited, and waited, and waited. No birds came. That had never happened before. Every time he’d come to feed them, at least a couple had come within a minute of putting the seeds out. Just then, Gale noticed something that he’d entirely missed on his way in.

There were no birds. Not in the trees around him, or in the sky overhead. The park wasn’t just void of other people, it was empty of anything other than him. Gale felt the hairs on his neck standing up. Something strange was going on, and he wasn’t sure what.

A quiet crunching sound caught his attention after that realization. It was coming from just past the bushes behind him. His heart was racing from the onsetting fear, but curiosity was a powerful force. Carefully, quietly, he got off the bench and went to investigate.

He did his best not to make much noise as he approached the source of the sound. His instincts told him that he should run, that whatever was there was dangerous. Yet the ever powerful force of curiosity compelled him onward.

Ever closer he crept, till finally he could see over the bushes. His instincts had been right, he shouldn’t have come to investigate. At least he knew where all the birds had gone.

Some creature was crouched in the small clearing ahead, and it was surrounded by tiny bones and feathers. Its body was covered in coarse black feathers, and its mouth was a pit full of barbed teeth. Instead of hands it had talons, and instead of feet it had hooves. Its ebony wings rustled with each bite it took.

Gale decided it was a good time to leave and tell someone what he’d seen. He took a step back to leave, and his foot landed on something. It was a brittle twig, and the crack it let out felt like a gunshot.

The creature in front of him stopped eating. It turned to face him with its mouth open, and he could see a single glowing eye in the depths of it. This thing only saw what it was eating, and now Gale was certain he was on the menu.

Writing prompt: They told him opening the box was a mistake,

I decided to host a group writing session for my partner’s server to try to get more people writing. As part of that process, I came up with a few writing prompts for people to try out. This is one of the prompts I came up with, and what I wrote based on it. The part in parentheses is the prompt.
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(They told him opening the box was a mistake,) and now he wished he had listened to them. The lure of treasure inside of it had proven more than he could resist, but treasure wasn’t the only thing he found when he opened the box. There had been something living inside of it.

Now that it was free, the creature was stalking him. Everywhere he went that strange creature was only a few yards behind him. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to scare it off, it always came running back a few moments later.

If having it following him wasn’t enough, it also made an obnoxious noise when it wanted his attention. It was loud and high pitched, and he couldn’t get himself to ignore it. The only way he could get it to be quiet again was to let it sit in his lap and pet it. 

He’d thought about trying to kill it, but he doubted that would work. It had been inside that box without food or water for longer than he could imagine, and it was perfectly healthy. There likely wasn’t anything he could actually do that would hurt it. At this point he was certain he would have to spend the rest of his life with it following him.

As the days wore into weeks, the small creature never left his side. It walked with him, ate with him, and slept with him. It kept him warm at night as the bitter cold of winter came.

The first snow of the year came, and that small creature seemed ecstatic at the sight of it. It romped and frolicked in the fresh powder like a happy child. All the while, it made sure to stay close to him.

Winter wore on, and the snow got deeper. The small thing seemed less excited now that the snow was piling higher than it. Still, it played in it as best it could. Still, it always kept one eye on him.

One morning late into winter he woke up cold. It was the first time he had been cold at night since winter started. That could only mean one thing. He threw the blankets to the side to check. The small creature wasn’t there.

He felt his heart starting to race, though he wasn’t sure why. That little creature had finally left, he should be happy. It had finally left his side, it was gone.

He ran around his home looking for it. It wasn’t in the living room, the dining room, or the kitchen. Why was he looking for it? He couldn’t answer that question, but still he searched. He looked behind the furantre and under it before he noticed something. The back door was open.

Still wearing nothing but his pajamas he ran to the door, and nearly broke it off the hinges as he shoved it open. He ran out into the deep snow, and called for it. Where did you go? Why did you leave?

The snow was making his feet sting, and his tears were freezing to his cheeks. Tears? Why was he crying? He didn’t understand it himself, but it didn’t matter. He had to find it.

He was starting to lose hope when he heard it, that high pitch sound it always made. It was somewhere nearby, but it sounded muffled. He called it again, and it made that sound again.

They went back and forth calling to each other as he desperately searched for it. He was getting close, and he was sure he was right on top of it.. That was the answer, he was on top of it. The little creature must have gotten stuck in the snow.

He dropped to his knees and started frantically digging with his hands. The cold snow stung his fingers, but he barely felt it. He had to find the small thing, he had to.

The more he dug, the clearer that sound got. He dug deeper, and deeper till his fingers brushed the thing’s soft fur. He worked desperately to finish freeing it, then he pulled it in against himself and whispered to it.

“Never leave me again.”

Under The Crying Willow Tree, Poem

I’m going through things I’ve written since the last time I’d post anything here, and I came across this poem. I’m usually very critical of my own poetry and writing, and this is one even I think turned out really well.

I thought someone I was talking to had challenged me to a poetry write off, and that got me fired up and going. It turned out that was not what they meant, but it still got me to write this.

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We met one last time under they crying willow tree,And the silver moon laughed as she told me.”It doesn’t matter how much you prayYou know it has to be this way.You may call me cruel,But I know you’re not a fool.You can see the truth in my eyes,No matter how many times they tell you lies.”Her hand slowly traced my face,I remember still that touch of lace.”I know you have to go,But I’ll say it again you have to know.I trust you just look and see.I love you darling with all I will be.We’ve one more night,One last dance before the light.One last dance before the dawn,One last dance before you’re gone”She laughed at me but she took my hand,One last dance with me in this tortured land.We danced together till the first light of dawn,And at that first light my beloved ghost was gone.

A Number Question, Poem

Tell me your name

Then we can play a game. 

No there won’t be dice, 

Just you and me will suffice.

The stage is already set,

Now why don’t we make a bet

If you win then you go free,

If you lose you belong to me. 

The game is simple I assure,

No horrible trials to endure. 

Just a question without trick,

Simply number you must pick. 

One, two, three, or four,

Which one of them has more?

Rise and Shine, A poem

I decide to get this blog revived again, and my body decides to start having technical difficulties. It’s safe to say I’m thoroughly distracted by it, and doing anything is difficult. Despite that I wanted to write a poem this morning. So I did.

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Rise and shine my morning dove,

My one, my true, my sweet, my love.

Morning has come with brilliant light,

Sending away the shades of night.

Grace me with your warm embrace,

The touch that makes my heart race.

Whatever shall we do today?

Dance and sing or laugh and play?

Though really it doesn’t matter what we do,

As long as I can be with you.

Mystery thing, a poem

I wrote this a day or two ago and forgot the step of actually posting it here. It’s something I scribbled out while I was in the bathroom.
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Something lurks within these walls,

A phantom without shape. 

You’d do well no to heed its calls,

Or you’ll find there’s no escape. 

It watches without eyes,

It speaks without a word. 

Do not listen to its cries,

The strangest sound you’ve heard. 

It bares no animosity,

It follows its nature true. 

It preys on curiosity,

So be careful what you do.

It’s name is lost to history,

But that’s how it should stay.

Don’t come to solve its mystery,

Or you’ll never get away.

How do you write Infinite? A poem.

A few weeks ago, my partner asked me to tell her how much I love her. At first I had no clue at all how to put those feelings to words, because capturing the full scope of those feelings in words felt impossible within the confines of human vocabulary. After all, how do you write infinity? After quite a while of sitting there thinking, the answer struck me.

You do it with a poem.

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How do you write infinity?

What starts and never ends,

That which goes forever.

Like a sea without borders,

Like a sky that stretches on forever.

The unending vastness of space,

Filled with brilliant stars.

Always there and spreading without end.

You’re the sun that warms my soul,

The light that brightens my world.

What words can capture my love for you?

For now, I hope these will do.

One hop, then two. An Easter Poem

So ten minutes or so ago I realized today is Easter, and that it’s also national poetry month. With both of those things in mind I decided to quickly write a cute poem for Easter.

I succeeded in the ‘quick poem’ portion of that goal, but the cute part quickly went off the rail and burst into flames.

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One hop then two,

An egg green and blue.

Hidden in the nook of a tree,

To bring a child glee.

Three hops then four,

Off to hide many more.

Little secrets to find,

But pay them no mind.

Five hops then six.

The rabbit’s tricks.

Hidden quietly away,

Waiting for today.

Seven hops then eight.

Now it’s too late.

Writing Exercise: Nymerie Embermoon

Like a necromancer, I’m going to be bringing something back from the dead. In this case it’s this blog.

For starters I’m going to share a writing exercise I did yesterday. The way the exercise works is that I have someone give me a name, at least a first and last name. I find someone in my head who has that name, and then write about what they’re doing. It’s just a little thing to get the gears turning and work those mental muscles.

The name I was given was Nymerie Embermoon.
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Nymerie had been tracking the female wood drake for most of a day now. The drake was wounded from a band of human poachers’ efforts to capture her. Those damned scum had already gotten what they deserved for hurting the creature, Nymerie had seen to that herself. Now all that was left was to clean up after them.

The drake had gotten quite far despite the wounds it had suffered, but she was sure it couldn’t get much further. The amount of blood it had lost at this point was sure to slow it down. Still, Nymerie needed to be careful. One good dose of venom from the drake and neither of them would be making it home.

“Where have you gone?” Nymerie asked out loud as she followed the tracks of her quarry. Judging by the deep gashes in the dirt, it wasn’t able to keep a grip on the trees around them well enough to stay in the branches anymore and had been forced to the ground. There were no signs that it had returned to the trees, but the tracks ended a few yards ahead.

Nymerie was sure that it was hiding now. Wood drakes were exceptional at camouflaging themselves on the ground or in the trees. They were ambush hunters. By the time their prey found out they were close, they were already dying.

There was a solution to this, though it wasn’t going to be pleasant for either of them. Wood drakes had very sensitive hearing, and a strong reaction to high pitch sounds. That was why Nymerie always carried a little reed whistle with her. When she blew it, any wood drake nearby would react enough to give themselves away. Unfortunately, it hurt her ears just as much.

Nymerie brought the whistle up, took a breath in, then blew into it. One, two, three seconds. Her ears were hurting, and there were no signs of anything moving around her. She lowered the whistle and put it back in the pouch on her belt.

It was possible she was too late, and that the drake had already bled out. That would explain why it didn’t react to the whistle. That was the most logical explanation, but she didn’t think that was it. She was certain that wasn’t it. Her instincts were telling her that it was still alive, that it still needed her help. 

“I mean you no harm. I am here to help you.” Her father told her the drakes were smart creatures, and she’d seen their cunning first hand. She was also certain they could understand the elves of her clan.

Nymerie slowly walked towards the closest tree, then she rested her spear against it. She took the dagger off her belt and placed it by the spear. The bow hooked around her was placed carefully on the ground, and the quiver of arrows on top of it. The half dozen throwing knives in her braces were left in a circle there as well.

Those were all of the weapons she had brought with her. It took all of her courage to walk away from them. If the drake attacked her now, she was certain to die. They both would be certain to die.

“Please, come out so I can tend to your wounds.” Nymerie walked till she was out of reach of her weapons, then she got down on her knees. She focused on her breathing to calm her nerves, then set her hands on her lap to wait.

She heard it behind her, the crack of a single twig. She felt its breath on the back of her neck. She could smell the fresh blood from its wound. It was close enough to bite her, but she was not afraid. 

Nymerie waited silently as the drake circled around her. There were still parts of arrows left in her shoulder, and what looked to be a wound from a spear in its side. She could feel the drake’s pain.

The wounded drake stopped in front of her, and their eyes met. She was told that to meet the gaze of a drake was to challenge it. This didn’t feel like a challenge, it felt like it was trying to decide if it should trust her.

Seconds stretched by like hours in this tense moment. If it decided not to trust her, it would certainly kill her. She knew that was the risk she’d taken by giving up her weapons, but she was certain it was the right thing to do.

The drake let out a short rattling sound at her, then it lay down in front of her. Calm, quiet, dignified; it had decided to trust her, and she had no intention of betraying that trust. She was going to save this drake.