The Coffee Shop


This week the fabulous writers from Write on Edge are tempting us with a new prompt….. Introduce a romantic interest or opportunity and see what happens. And do it with 450 words or less. 

In keeping with the current storyline of Becca & Jake I bring you another installment in their story. If you’d like to read more click here.

Becca looked down at the cup in front of her, it was half full of tea that had gone cold hours ago. Another turn of her head and she looked out the window and realized that dusk was setting upon the city.

How long had she been sitting there? Hours it appeared, but she’d finally been able to make some progress on her final project for graduation. It was the last step before she was done with six long years of school, hard work, lack of sleep, and determination. It would be worth it though.

Becca stood up and walked up to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee this time. She figured she’d need it to get through the rest of the evening.

The door opened and a tall guy with sandy brown hair and green eyes walked in. Immediately Becca’s eyes were drawn to him and when he looked up and smiled at her it was all that she could to keep from drooling all over herself. Quickly she looked back at the clerk and thanked her before moving back to her table.

Becca started to gather her things when she sensed that someone was sitting across from her.

“Hi,” said a distinctly male voice.

Becca looked up and her eyes locked with those deep green eyes that walked in the door a few minutes ago. “H..hi,” she replied. He had caught her off guard and she was having trouble with words for some reason.

He held his hand out to her and smiled. “I’m Jake.”

She smiled in return because it was hard not to. “I’m.. I’m Becca,” she replied a bit softer than she’d meant to as she shook his hand.

“So, I’ve seen you here a few times… you’re pretty focused on your work all the time,” he said to her.

“Umm… yea. It’s quiet and I can usually make progress on my project. My roommates can be loud sometimes….” she replied trailing off as she finished gathering her things. “Do you go to Brown too?”

He laughed at her question. “Nope,” he replied before taking a drink of his coffee. “I went to college out west and graduated a year or so ago.”

“Oh,” she said and felt like an idiot for making an assumption.

“I’m an elementary school teacher,” he told her.

She smiled again at him, “Wow! That takes a lot of patience.”

“It does, but I love it.”

“I’m graduating this spring,” she told him.

They talked until the shop closed and then left together.

When all is lost

According to Dante, the gates of hell are inscribed “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” Let that inscription lead, but not necessarily define, your piece for Friday’s link-up.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

When all is lost there is hope. Hope in the future, hope in love, and hope that things will get better.

That’s what everyone kept telling her, but she knew that they were wrong and things weren’t going to get better. As a matter of fact things were getting worse day by day and keeping hope was more difficult than just accepting the inevitable. So what was inevitable… death and taxes and she sure as hell didn’t owe any money to the government. All that was left was death.

According to statistics accidents happen every day and there are some where we stand up and brush off the dirt and then there are others… like what happened to Jake.

Becca kept playing that day over and over in her head and still couldn’t figure out how it happened. One minute she was sitting on the beach watching Jake surf, something he was very accomplished at, and then next thing she knew he was being pulled out of the water by a couple other surfers and he was unconscious.

It had been almost three weeks since that day on the beach and he had yet to wake up. The doctors said that he was in a coma and that his chances of waking up were slim but she had refused to believe them. She knew that Jake was strong, healthy, and that there was no way that he would ever leave her side. She had so much hope that he would fully recover. She had to believe that he would wake up and they would continue on with their lives together as they had planned. She had hope that her love would be enough to bring him back to her.

Becca knew in the back of her mind that he was already gone after the first week and a half of sitting by his side in the hospital. She would sit there day and night and hold his hand in hers. It was cold and limp… not like that of a dead person but of someone who was not in control anymore. She would talk to him, smile, and even laugh as she talked of their lives together in hopes that she would get some sort of response out of Jake but there was nothing, not even the slightest twitch.

Hope was gone and now all that she had left was fear, a deep sadness, and she wanted to give up. Giving up would be so much easier than accepting that the love of her life was slowly slipping away from her.

The doctors gave her the options and then left her to consider what decision she would make. All she could do is hold Jake and cry and think how unfair life was.

Towards the end of the fourth week in the hospital a decision was made with family. They let Jake go.

Looking for more of the story? Check more of it out here.

Mac & Piggy

If you’d like to read more of Becca & Jake’s story check it out here.

“Are you watching that video again Jake?” Becca called from the living room. A smile spread across her face knowing full well what the answer was, he was watching Mac Davis sing to Miss Piggy, a classic episode of Muppet’s again.

“Yea, it’s my favorite,” Jake called back from the study. He knew that he needed to get the paper work for work done but this was more entertaining. The Muppet’s were a flash back from his past and always made him smile.

Becca sat down next to him she and planted a kiss on his cheek, “Mind if I watch with you?”

“Nope, I was hoping you would.” He moved his chair a bit so she could move closer. “I could watch these over and over again. They never get old.”

Becca laughed. “I know.”

“When I was little we had a nightly routine,” he started. “After dinner with my family my dad would give me a bath and then we would sit down together with my mom on the couch and watch the Muppet’s every night until 8 and then I’d curl up in bed while my mom would read me a book.”

His voice was soft and reminiscent as he recalled the childhood memory and Becca knew that he was missing his parents a great deal. She took his hand in hers as he spoke.

“I would always procrastinate for as long as I could, asking for one more book but I would always fall asleep before she was done with it.”

Becca moved closer and entwined her arm with his. “Let’s watch this video and then get something to eat.”

Jake sang along softly with the song, “Baby, baby don’t get hooked on me.”

Miss Piggy curled up with Mac as Jake pulled Becca into his arms.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

One Night

If you want to read more of Becca & Jake’s story check it out here.

It was a rainy night in Dusseldorf when Jake walked out of the pub. He knew that he had to much to drink already but he was having the time of his life with his college buddies. The night was still young and they moved on to the next place just down the street, this one was more lively then the last and was sure to be entertaining.

The smoke filled room was packed with crowds of young people all drinking large mugs of beer. Laughter could be heard over the voices.. mens and womens mingled together in a melody that was enticing and could brighten any bad mood in moments.

Jake and his friends easily moved towards the bar and ordered their drinks as they scoped out the room.

Brian laughed as he nudged Jake. “What about that one?” He said gesturing to a tall, dark haired girl sitting at the end of the bar with a couple of other girls.

Jake nodded, “Yea, she’s not bad.”

Brian almost snorted beer out of his nose. “Not Bad! Hell… if you don’t go talk to her I will!”

Jake looked at his friend with a raised eye brow. “I’m sure that Jess would love that,” he said referring to Brian’s fiance. He took another drink of his beer and with liquid courage coursing through his veins Jake made his way over to the beautiful brunette across the bar.

Mandi took another drink of her beer as he approached and then greeted him with a smile.

“Hi,” Jake said returning her smile. “I’m Jake.”

“Mandi,” she replied holding her hand out to him.

Jake took her hand in his gently, it was so soft, delicate, and beautifully feminine, and gave it a small shake. “You’re American?” He said noticing her voice and accent when she spoke to him.

“Yes, as are you,” she replied. “I’m here studying for a year before returning to Yale.”

Jake looked impressed. “Nice, what are you studying?” He asked before taking another drink of his beer.

Jake spent the rest of night talking with Mandi and before he knew it he had invited her back to his hotel. They fell into each others arms as soon as they were in the door knowing that it was the alcohol that was allowing them to act on their urges.


The light was streaming through the windows so brightly that Jake had to roll over to keep the light from causing his head from pounding more. As he moved he felt the warm, soft flesh of a person next to him causing his eyes to open quickly.

Fear ran through his body faster than anything ever had as he tried to remember the night before.

She rolled over towards him and opened her eyes slowly. Their eyes met with the same startled look.

Mandi sat up quickly pulling the sheets up to cover her naked body. “What the hell happened last night?”

“I.. I’m not sure,” Jake replied.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

This week’s prompt was a challenge for this opening line; “It was a rainy night in Dusseldorf…”

Well… How did I do? I’m trying to fill in some of the holes in the storyline and this piece ties directly to this one.

Give me the bacon!


Plump tomatoes, salty bacon, crisp lettuce, soft bread, this week we want you to be inspired by the BLT. Write a piece of either fiction or creative non-fiction based on this photo.

Bacon. This is bacon like nothing that you could ever find in a store. Nothing.

It’s thickly sliced, deeply smoked and they make an attempt to cut it into slices but there are often big chunks the size of your thumb.

Every year when my family gathers for its regular family reunion my sister and I make a trip to the smoke house. This place has a smell that is so strong that you can smell it before you even get out of your car…. so strong that it feels like it burns your sinuses.

But the bacon is worth it. Yes, it’s even worth the powerful smell of fish too.

Fish, wild fowl, turkey, beef, and pork are some of the things that you will find in the case as you walk in the front door. All freshly made there every day, following the same recipe day after day that brings in people from all over the area and often selling out before closing time.

There is only one place that you can get this special bacon, and if you’re my sister you can only get it once a year (because that’s how often she comes home). When she’s here she buys the bacon in bulk and has it shipped back to her house in New Jersey. I on the other hand only buy around 4 pounds because making the trip isn’t much for me.

The bacon is wonderful fried in a pan or baked in the oven. As part of a BLT (with avocado of course), a side to your breakfast, or in your favorite recipe. Be warned though… your house will have a smoke smell to it for days after cooking it!

If you’re ever in Michigan, the thumb region to be exact, make a side trip to Sebewaing and head to Jar’s for some of the best bacon that you have ever had in your entire life. It is worth it…. trust me.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

Their Song

If you want to read more of Becca & Jake’s story check it out here.

Becca had finished packing up the truck before the rain started. With the keys already in the ignition she turned it over but she couldn’t seem to put the truck into gear and pull away from the house. The house that held so many memories, so much love, and hope for the future. Gone…. all gone now.

She finally pulled her eyes away from her house and the past as she drove down the road the followed the coast into the city. The rain started to come down harder causing her to turn the radio up louder so she could hear it and then the song came on. Their song.

Before she knew it she had pulled over into an empty beach parking lot. The melody pulled her deeply into her memories. Memories that she had been trying so hard to bury and push out of her mind.

I’ll be your dream
I’ll be your wish I’ll be your fantasy

The day they met the song was playing in the background at the coffee shop near the beach.

I’ll be your hope I’ll be your love
Be everything that you need

The song played softly in the background the first night she made dinner for him in her tiny apartment.

I’ll love you more with every breath
Truly, madly, deeply do

The song was playing when he asked her to marry him…. fighting against the sound of the surf crashing against the beach.

I will be strong I will be faithful
’cause I’m counting on

The song was playing when they had their first dance together as husband and wife.

A new beginning
A reason for living
A deeper meaning, yeah

Tears streamed down her face as sobs racked her body and her fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles were white as snow. Becca hadn’t let the emotions get to her like they did at that moment, but then again she hadn’t let the memories flow through her like they were right now. The moment she heard the news she walled everything out… every memory & thought that was of him.

The crying was almost cathartic and that there was a weight being lifted off of her. At that moment she knew she’d be alright.

She wiped the tears from her face and listed to the rest of their song, Truly Madly Deeply.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

Show us in 400 words or less how your character reacts to a piece of music.

How did I do? I would love your concrit!

My Grandma

Her family came over from Scotland and settled in the thumb region of Michigan and lived there for more years that I can remember.

She lived a life that was long and full and she loved every minute of it.

Parents, siblings, husband, children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren were all part of her life on a daily basis. Year in and year out she was surrounded by family.

Full of life, love, and the joy of travel. It wasn’t uncommon for her to take off on a whim without letting anyone know…. then again she would also check herself into the hospital if she didn’t feel well without telling anyone too.

My memories of her are dear to me and I hold them close to my heart, pulling them out like pictures and flipping through them from time to time. Remembering the times we spent together are special to me…. but few. Fewer than I would hope for, but more than others I suppose.

There were things she missed that I had always hoped she would see, but her heart was tired. It was her time.

She is loved and missed dearly by all.

My grandma

Daughter. Wife. Sister. Mother. Grandmother. Great Grandmother.

She watches us and all we do.

She smiles with us and cries with us.

She loved and was loved in return.

She is at peace now.


Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

Write on Edge Feature!

I think that I’ve posted more this week than I have in months! But today is a special day because I am the featured writer on Write on Edge where I’m sharing one of the posts I wrote in response to a Red Writing Hood prompt.

Write on Edge quickly became one of my favorite sites not only because of the great prompts, but also because of the supportive community that has grown with the site. It’s a place where I can go to learn & grow as a writer, a place where I can find useful feedback, where I can always find support, as well as find some incredible stories to read.

I love reading and have always enjoyed writing even though it hasn’t been my strong suit. Write on Edge allows me to write without worry or concern and with their continued support I will keep writing and growing.

So to all of you at Write on Edge I say thank you! Thank you for all that you do. Without you I wouldn’t be where I am in my writing and most of all I would have never taken the chance to take part in NaNoWriMo this year.


Write on Edge: RemembeRED

Today we’re trying a little something different. Are you ready? Your word is below. Take the next ten minutes to write about the first single memory that word calls up. Focus on the emotions and the experience, spend ten minutes really exploring that memory. Then wrap it up, publish, and come back to link up.

Write on Edge - Crash

Winter…. January 31st to be exact. Just after 6pm and it was dark outside.

I took a back road for some reason… must have thought that it would have been quicker or something.

It had been snowing like it always does at that time of year in Michigan. Most of the roads were clear except for a few random drifts that happened to fill the roads where the fields were open.

The drifts never worried me much because I drove a four wheel drive Expedition. It plowed through drifts easily… like a knife through butter. Smooth and easy.

I was confident and sure that I was safe from the travesties that others experienced with their little cars.

Excitement was building as I drove on to meet up with some high school girl friends for a night out. I hadn’t seen them in a long time and was really looking forward to it. I never made it.

I came up over the hill and on the downside were drifts. Nothing special… until I drove through it. The drift caught my tire just right and I felt it pull my truck off to the right while I tried to get control of the truck. Fear raced through my body like nothing I had ever felt before. Before I knew it I was in the ditch and the truck tipped.

I was rolling…. I let go of the steering wheel and covered my head, it was an instinct. It wasn’t going to save me though. I kept rolling from side to side. Metal crunching, glass shattering, and my body being banged around the truck even though I had my seat belt on.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime it stopped. Windows were gone… the windshield was smashed but in tact, the roof was caved in. I did a mental check of myself…. I was fine. I survived.

Adrenaline was running high as I sat there trying to stop shaking. I fumbled around looking for my cell phone to call 911.

Fear still had it’s grip on me as I dialed several times… my hands were shaking so bad that I could barely dial. Finally I got it.  Help was in it’s way.

I missed my night out with friends and had to walk through almost knee deep snow in my brand new purple heels.

I am much more conscious about how I drive, the weather, and road conditions. I worry more than is necessary and I’m driving another truck.

Note: I followed the rules and wrote for 10 minutes and hit publish… this is not edited at all. So please be kind… the grammar and punctuation probably sucks.


We cut it, curl it, straighten it, color it, grow it out, despair over it. It can ruin our entire day or make us feel sexy or powerful or an entire spectrum of emotion.

It’s our hair.

We make judgments about mullets and comb-overs and bowl cuts. We envy thick, luscious locks. Or wildly hued ones.

Hair says a lot about us. About who we are or who we want to be, or maybe just who our friends are.

This week we’d like you to write a piece about hair. It can be about you or one of your characters where hair figures prominently. Don’t just describe it. Use it as a vehicle to tell us something about your character, a situation, you and your life.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

Georgie walked into the office late in the day as usual and he was wearing his typical uniform in black. Dress slacks of some poly blend that looked itchy, black dress shirt with a sheen that slightly reflected light, shiny black loafers, and a few gold chains that peaked out of the unbuttoned shirt. Georgie always left the top two or three buttons undone and never wore a tie.

To say that he thought highly of himself was an understatement.

But the one thing that he was most proud of was his dark, slicked back hair that was pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He went to great lengths to keep his hair slicked back and perfectly neat and the minute that he had a hair out of place he was in the office, in front of the mirror fixing it.

Aside from his profession as a lawyer he led a shady lifestyle, but I think that the outfit and hair gave that away, but that all changed one day.

A case gone badly, a jilted lover, and a pair of scissors was all it took for everything to change for Georgie.

Connie was pissed off and while Georgie was taking a nap in his big office chair she snuck in and snipped off the end of his ponytail, and then made a few random clips here, there and well… everywhere.

Georgie woke as she made the last few clips and screamed like a little girl as his hands immediately flew to his head. Connie did nothing but laugh while the secretary gathered her things for an early lunch.

That night Georgie found himself in a cell with some seriously messed up hair, no ponytail holder or gel to keep his much loved locks in place. Connie, well she was in the hospital recovering from a few stab wounds.