Leo's Angel Oak Tree

Wednesday, October 5, 2011


Here is part 1 of my Rule of 3 Blogfest.  Hope you enjoy it.  Let me know what you think in the comments.  I enjoy any feedback as long as it's constructive!

Prompt 1:  There is an argument, Someone might fall in love
Word Count: 597 Words
Characters: Riley Richter, Lindly Masen, and  Jack Everly

My father would’ve hated Renaissance.  He didn’t care too much about secrets and superstition, and that seems to be all that’s left in this town. Secrets and superstition. Which makes it a good thing he died three months ago, held up at a trader’s tavern just south of here through the Culdees Forest? Yep, he would’ve hated it here, and so do I.

“Riley, go up to the general store and take care of my grocery list, will ya?,” My mother called out.

“Geez, ma, I hate going to the store.” My face scrunched up, waiting for the hammer to fall.

I grabbed the list off the table and scooted out the door before the yelling could begin. I thought parents stopped nagging after a certain age. I guess seventeen wasn’t old enough, yet.  Hopping on my motorcycle, I revved the engine and zoomed toward town.

I loved riding my bike, the wind whipping through my hair. It’s part of the reason why I kept it shoulder length despite my mother’s pleading for a haircut.  Riding felt freeing, like I could fly. After Dad died and we came here, I had to sell the old camper for food money. Luckily, the Crowley’s were here.  One of the old families, they hired my mom to run the mining office. That gave us enough to buy our little house and a motorcycle for me. I had to get to work somehow.

I pulled in front of the store and saw Jack Everly sitting on the bench eating an apple. God, I hated Jack, almost as much as I hated Renaissance.  The feeling was mutual.  I avoided him by going round the back where I could see someone in the storage room, stocking new items. Her long silhouette made my heart skip a beat.

The only bright spot in this desolate place was Lindly Masen, the store owner’s daughter.  She grew up here when it used to be called Atlanta.  She said Atlanta was a vibrant city.  After the tragedy of 2025, Atlanta became a ghost town, where the population dwindled and the rats became the majority.  When The Everly family arrived, they brought dreams and money.  A chance to revive the old town. The old families (the ones that survived the attack) were overjoyed.  The Everly’s renamed the place Renaissance, a place of rebirth, but the only thing being reborn here are the weeds. 

I tapped on the glass inlayed on the door. She turned around, seeing me, and smiled.  She tucked her blonde hair behind her ears, blushing a beautiful shade of pink.  Ogling girls are really not my thing, but Lindly makes my body do things involuntarily.

“Hey, Riley,” she said as she opened the door.

“Hey.” I could never get out more than that, but she seemed to appreciate my shyness.
She blushed scarlet. I stared at her lips—so inviting—as they moved.  I was transfixed, as usual, until she touched my arm.


“I said, I thought we agreed not to meet up in town. My father might figure it out.”

“Don’t you mean Jack might figure it out?”

She pursed her lips together. “You let me worry about Jack Everly.”

Placing my hands around the small of her back, I pulled her to my chest and our eyes locked. “Make me.”  Her face, so close to mine, leaned forward and the heat rising off her skin lit mine ablaze, too. She had no problem making me bow to her will, to make me do anything.   

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Monday, October 3, 2011


My birthday is coming up. Yep, 36 seemed ancient just a few short years ago, but here I am about to turn ancient.  So, my wonderful husband has decided to purchase a writing class for me with a real live editor.  This editor has worked at Random House and Penguin and is offering a one-day MFA style course with lots of techniques and feedback.  Should be pretty cool, right? 

So why am I so terrified?

Have any of you taken a writing class?  If so, what advice do you have for me and how can I make the most of my time with the instructor?

DISH, please!!