Archive for March, 2014

The Critical Soul

Posted in Thinkingten posts and comments, on March 27, 2014 by Illyria Taylor

She called him at midnight again, screaming that he had killed her soul, again he hung up. How dare he trash her novel, it was her soul she put into it, and he killed it with the stroke of a pen. Twice she had seriously thought of shooting him from the church bell tower where she sat everynight with her sniper rifle. She thought to use a red lazer scope to give him a moment of panic, to know how she felt when she saw his words, but the more she came to hate him the more she just wanted his life to be over. Tonight she didn’t take the shot, she leaned back, took her finger off of the trigger, and lit up her cigarello. Maybe her nightly 3am call to him would give her some relief, maybe he would agree that he killed her soul, if he would just say he did, she would end the phone calls. Those four words would change her life forever, it would mean that at some point in her fucked up life she did have a soul once, before the hatred and the pain and the disappointment crept in.
She looks at her watch even though the church added a clock to the tower, she could hear every movement of the minute hand, tick tick tick, more moments of life lost to her forever. It is almost a quarter to 3, she leans forward, rifle in hand, a cell phone in the other, and waits for the next call.
He answers the 3a phone call as he always does, this time she isn’t screaming. “Don’t you see that you killed my soul, does it bother you at all?’ she pleads to him.
“Lady, you killed your own soul along time ago, I can see it in every word you write” he says in hushed tones.
“Thankyou” she says and hangs up the phone. She puts the sniper rifle down, and pulls the handgun from her pocket. He was right, about everything, every word he crucified her with was right. She puts the gun to her head and pulls the trigger.


A Breath of Fresh Hell

Posted in on March 27, 2014 by Illyria Taylor

She had thrown the damn letter in the trash twice, yet she would still find it on her porch the next morning. The third time she actually stuffed it into the can and watched the garbage collector dump the contents into his massive truck, with a smile she pulled her can back to the side of her house, the wind blew the lid back and there it was, stuck to the bottom.

She took the hateful thing inside and reread the contents. It was just the obituary in the Nebraska newspaper that her cousins had sent her. Were they really so oblivious to the fact that after all of these years she still hated her mother? Did they really believe that she would attend the funeral? While she had been dreaming of this day for years, she respected her cousins enough not to attend, as her only reason for doing so would be to dance on that bitch’s grave and sing the song “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” from The Wizard of Oz.

She had the song memorized for over twenty years now, yet today she realized that she no longer even cared. As she set the obituary and the envelope to burn she said “See you in Hell Mother. You’d better find a good hiding place because when I get there the fun starts. For me, anyway.”

The smoke from the paper drifted out the window and disappeared into the twilight, it fluttered through the air of open wounds and debts unsettled, finding it’s way to the place where Vengence is God.

Somewhere in Hell a woman began to scream, a scream that would stretch to eternity.



(trash, twice) Weds..

Paul You’re a Dead Man

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on March 27, 2014 by Illyria Taylor

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is not a serious piece, just a joke between 2 friends. Don’t bother reading it.



Thanks to Paul, our Friday’s challenge on our new favorite literary sight was to add a word or a phrase in a foreign language. I bought the plane tickets to Australia that night. When I arrived on his doorstep he was more than surprised, and welcomed me inside. He was grilling shrimp shishkabobs on the barbeque, and when I took a wooden skewer and skewerd his black heart with it all he could shout as his life blood dripped onto the tiles was “Krykee, A’ve gott shramp on the’ barbee”. I stepped over his flailing body and I have to admit, the shrimp was pretty good, I’ll bring some back for CJT.

Member’s Pick, Friday:
The Visitor

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Comment by alisa rynay haller on May 1, 2010 at 10:38pm
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ooh you so did…didn’t you?
Comment by Coraline J. Thompson on May 1, 2010 at 2:00pm
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WHAT?! I didn’t tell you to spell it with a K don’t blame that kinda crap on me!
Comment by alisa rynay haller on May 1, 2010 at 1:48pm
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I spelled it right! CJT told me to go with the K. seriously, Barbie like the doll? Oh you guys should be ashamed of yourselves!
Comment by Jessica Lafortune on May 1, 2010 at 5:53am
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Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 30, 2010 at 8:08pm
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just call me Buffy the australian slayer
Comment by Mark Rosenblum on April 30, 2010 at 6:18pm
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Thinking Ten-A Writer’s Slayground
Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 30, 2010 at 4:37pm
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Comment by Coraline J. Thompson on April 30, 2010 at 4:27pm
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I think it might have actually been the sharp end J.H.
Comment by J.H. Barnes on April 30, 2010 at 3:46pm
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HA!! This is great Alisa. Just what I needed today. Love it. Paul got the crap end of the stick in this deal.
Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 30, 2010 at 2:12pm
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you can invite, just don’t make me speak a foreign language.

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Comment by Edward Dean on April 30, 2010 at 1:43pm
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HAAA……Remind me to never invite you to dinner Alisa.

And hey Blake, cancel all my challenge suggestions, will you?

Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 30, 2010 at 11:47am
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you did both.
Comment by Coraline J. Thompson on April 30, 2010 at 11:46am
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Damnit Alisa – Brooklyn got to the shrimp before I did… also, did I laugh when I read this, or Gaffaw??? Either way, all I could think of was Krykee Mate – and Barbee (sorry Paul!)