From the moment Adam was born, Alice knew he was different. Oh, he looked normal and developed normally, but he was different. When the other babies in the nursey cried, he sang. When they learned how to roll over, he was learning to crawl. By the time he was three years old, Adam knew more about the world than many grown men. That’s when she knew. She had always guessed, but secretly hoped—no secretly pretended, that she didn’t know who Adam’s father really was. No one would have believed her anyways. She didn’t even really believe it until Adam’s fifth birthday. Until the day the birthday card arrived in the mail with no return address.

“Alice,” her mother said. “This is arrived today, but it doesn’t say who it’s from.” She held up a pure white envelope with gold trim.

Alice’s face went pale and she had to sit down at the kitchen table.

“Alice? What’s wrong?” Her mother began panicking the way parents do. She knew something was wrong, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

“Mom,” Alice began, “remember before Adam was born, you and Dad asked me all about his father since you had never met him?”

“Yes.” Her mother sat down next to her, set down the envelope, and held her daughter’s hand.

“You won’t believe me if I tell you.” She looked at the envelope and started crying.

“Dear lord, Alice,” her mother said, starting to tear up herself watching her daughter get torn up from the inside. “I will believe anything you tell me.”

Alice took a deep breath, grabbed her mother’s hand and started telling a story of walking through the woods by their old house and coming across a very handsome man in a clearing. He was just sitting there, on a log, and animals were coming up to him and letting him pet them. The clouds seemed to be attracted to him because the ground was more like billowy fluff than forest undergrowth or dead leaves as the rest of the forest was.

“Go on,” her mother said when Alice paused trying to find the right words.

She continued telling the story about how the man noticed her and called out to her by name. She was intrigued, entranced, and completely drawn to this man. They met several times in that clearing over the next few weeks and he told her stories of Gods, Goddesses, and magic. She loved listening to his stories. She fell in love with the man. Then one day he left. All he left was a note that said he would return to claim what was his.

“Oh, Mom,” Alice cried. “He’s coming to collect Adam!”

“Heavens no,” her mother said. “He can’t do that. This card could be from anybody. You don’t even know if it’s from him.”

“Mother, dear,” Adam said, walking into the kitchen. “Father is here now. Goodbye.”

He kissed her on the cheek. Then turned to his grandmother and kissed her on the cheek. “I will return when I can.”

A flash of light filled the kitchen, instantly dissipating, but Adam was gone. His grandmother screamed, and his mother buried her head in her arms crying on the kitchen table.

“Where is Adam?”

“I told you, Mom. His father has collected him.”

“Who’s his father?”


Alice wailed over her loss as her mother slipped into her chair in disbelief. She opened the birthday card and read it. “He will return in thirteen years.”


Editors Everywhere

Beware the editor.

They lurk in the darkest recesses of every mind.

Laying in wait for the right moment to strike.

Like life on the African plains, some are experts and some are next week’s meals.

Oh, beware the editor who stalks its prey in the open.

And, beware the editor who stalks in the day.

The stealthiest of editors are never seen.

You cannot find them even if you have a powerful heat scope on a top secret drone.

They will find you.

When you least suspect it.

They pounce and commandeer the writer’s words.

Again, beware the editor.

The Roughneck

For twelve weeks at a time, Buck was a roughneck on an off-shore drilling rig. The men were men and that’s the way they liked it. Leathered skin, often covered in dirt and sweat, only amplified his ruggedness and no one could take a punch like Buck. His beard made him look like he just walked out of a Jack London story of the North.

Daisy squealed as Missy opened the playroom door. “Daddy funny!”

Missy couldn’t help but laugh at Buck sitting on his knees, at a tea party, wearing pink fairy wings, with glitter in his beard.

This 99-word story was written for The Carrot Ranch‘s weekly prompt of : man glisten

Some Things You Can’t Unsee

Since I did not write a story based on yesterday’s 3TC prompts of Dr. Who, daffodil, and daisy dukes, I combined them with today’s prompts of Captain Kirk, Dungeons and Dragons, and iced tea. Enjoy 🙂

The Doctor placed a daffodil in the lapel of her jacket. I think the yellow really makes it more cheerful, she thought, taking one last look around the newly redecorated TARDIS. “Well, let’s see where we end up this time,” she said, flipping the lever. The TARDIS lurched and whirred until it came to a crashing stop. “Fantastic!”

Jogging over to the door, she threw it open and gasped.

“Who are you?” Captain Kirk asked, “and how did you get on my ship?”

“I…I…oh dear lord.” The Doctor stammered, trying to find the words befitting the situation.


The Doctor swallowed her laughter, but could not keep it inside for long. The sight of Captain Kirk in a pair of daisy dukes playing Dungeons and Dragons with Spock while drinking iced tea was more than any Time Lord could take. She turned on her heels, shook her head and ran back to the controls. “Nope, nope, and more nope.” She flipped the lever. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”