Filtered, A Conversation Between Two Gods #ShortFictionFromaCrazyMind

abstract cloud.jpg
Photo Credit: Pixabay


In this short story, two gods meet across realms to discuss how they govern humans. Could both methods be wrong?

The Beautiful One, shining like jasper, sits upon an invisible throne and overlooks his creation. It has been millennia and more since he made them. He wound the clock, set them up and enjoy watching them from his heavenly view.

“Old Friend!” Beckons Silver One. “Are we well?”

“As well as can be,” Beautiful One looks down on a couple holding hands. His heart paces faster as they engage in a kiss and the soon to be groom plucks a hair behind the bride’s lovely ear.

“If you look to your left, Oh, Beautiful One, there is sand kicking up in that land over there.” Silver One’s platinum fingers rest on Beautiful One’s shoulder. Silver One laughed like a beautiful witch,  yet had the build of a gladiator.

Silver One would remind you Silver Surfer, but could be male or female.

“Yes. I see.”

“Will you not send your messengers to stop it? I hear the cries of the hungry too. They are akin to mewling kittens.”

Beautiful One chuckled, although with a long face full of sadness. “Some of the sand will stop. Someone is praying and they are strong.”

Silver One leaves Beautiful One’s side. He(or she) pulls out a very light, thin device. It is flat and similar to an iPad or a smartphone but much lighter. Silver One plugs in a few codes.

“Whatever are you doing now?”

“Someone’s thoughts went awry. Can’t have that. You know I saw her future ten minutes ago? She was literally going to stab the ones who made her. In their sleep!” Silver One cast white eyes back to the pad. “I’m signaling a messenger now to stop two couples from procreating. I think I may issue death by heart attack before the sex begins. Maybe he will topple over her.” He tsk tsked. “Bad programming or a bug.”

Beautiful One wanted to intervene, tell Silver One that would not be right, but Silver One was a god, just like him. Who was he to tell him(her) they were wrong? Perhaps this was best.

“This keeps you busy then.”

“Yeah. I have a filtering system built into all my humans. Some of them go off code and I have to turn them back to their true selves.”

“I’m quite surprised you allow them to reproduce.”

“Allow? No. Each one has a set time to procreate, dear Beautiful One. Keeps the population balanced.” Silver One clicked away on the device and mumbled something about goblins and guns. “I purposely selected a few to remain sterile for experimental reasons.”

Beautiful One turned his attention back to his people. Someone over in the Americas  was praising a flag before sport and the chorus of a single one lifted to his ears. Such beautiful notes from a people who choose to idolize fabric! To idolize his land!

Silver One was watching too. “If my own did that, I would have no problems with it.”


“Really. I have programmed their bodies to shut down if they ever did something like that.”

“How cruel.”

“You? Call me cruel?” Silver One’s face bunched up in disgust as if tasting something foul. “You unlovable goat. “You are the same one who sat by and watched some disgusting punk of flesh abuse and give his betrothed AIDS. Now you still have a poverty problem and let’s not get into race issues which should have been deaded long ago. It was only asleep.” Silver One’s eyes rolled.

Beautiful One took his old friend’s words with a pinch of salt. They always got into the same tired arguments when they cross lines like this.

“There was a time I did intervene,” he bowed is head. “No sense in doing that anymore.” Beautiful One was still as wrathful as ever and Silver One witnessed his pulsing fury. He deals with things in due time.

“They are disobedient!” Silver One spat. “They harm each other and then curse you! What of that? You could have eradicated the putrid squirt from the male as soon as it emptied into-”

“If you pay attention, you will see that even the bad works out for their good. Even in dark cruelty, I provide all they need to be strong. Are your people strong, Silver One?”

Silver One smiled. “They are because I made them that way.”

“But will they be able to face unique situations. Situations which makes them hardy?”

“Of course. I have programmed them for strength.”

Beautiful One stroked his majestic white beard. A stark contrast to his honey countenance. Endurance was the word he was looking for. People should be able to endure. Be stretched, pulled, come forth as gold by fire. Isn’t that right?

No. It is right. More than right.

Silver One’s attention went back to the device. Beautiful One knew what he(she) was up to. Clicking away to control another person.

After a moment, Silver One looked up. “For example. As soon as a cry enters my ear, I rush and help. There is no poverty, no murder, no unwanted babies. A perfect utopia.”

“Then what will they have to look forward to when they die? More utopia?”

“Haha. Very funny. It will better than where they are now.”

“Better,” Beautiful One repeated. “How will they know and realize what better is? May be boring.”

Silver One placed hands on their hips. “What would you know? You’re a tyrant. Your people write about how you are love and I hear their cries all over my universe too! They cry and you allow them to be maimed and mowed down and amazingly the same ones still believe in you- but with a different opinion of you.”

“Yes,” Beautiful One agreed with some anger. “They kill one another and have uncalled for prejudices. I made them all different for a purpose. I am an artist, a Designer. Beautiful flowers like the ones on our earths.”

“Big mistake, big guy, but you are a poet” Silver One pat him on the back softly like a comrade. In many ways, he was. “So much difference. So many different psychologies, so many different experiences, produces wicked results. And Moses! He struck a rock in anger and you made him miss out on paradise.”

“He’s in paradise. Not on earth of course.”

“Well of course not on earth. Your earth is a cesspool. Come, let’s go over to my earth and you will see how my people live.”

Beautiful One did not think “live” was a good word. More like programmed.

However, he stood up and joined Silver One as they embarked on visiting Earth Utopia 2.

To be continued…

Copyright 2018 Erica Jean Smith

I hope you liked this one. I’ve been reading some Christian Apologetics books and I have tons of questions about freedom, choices, and divine intervention. Let me know what you think!



Fright of the Frostbitten-Upcoming Fiction

Below is a sneak peak from my upcoming, thrilling anthology Fright of the Frostbitten!

Cover may not be final

Thank you bloggers and bookworms for supporting this blog and my book The Fall of Autumn; through your love of words and creativity this site thrives.

This blog is not just about me, but you too, so if you have an upcoming book, Make Your Announcement-post it in the comments below with links!





I wonder about you.

I think you should keep speaking with Dr. Bowe, honey.


My husband’s eyes are pleading with me. His suitcase is still in hand as he stand before me. Our front door is open, letting in Jack Frost. I shiver and he finally closes it softly and sit his suitcase by the brown couch. I shake my head. This can’t be!

I was right here, speaking with a customer online. Five minutes later my husband walks in. I try to convince him that a whole nine hours slipped by and I didn’t even notice. How is it I missed such a large chunk of time?

I told the woman goodbye, have a nice day…

I sipped some coffee..

Felt a little sleepy but I blinked.

Sipped some more.

Then the key turns in the lock.

“I promise you, I did not fall asleep! I was right here on the laptop, talking with a customer. I blink and there you are.”

My husband sighs and takes me in his arms. “We are going to solve this. You hear me, Marnie Babe? We are going to solve this.” He pulls back and kisses my cheek. He inspects me more, piercing his eyes into mine before picking up his suitcase and going to the bedroom.

I hear the neighbor’s dog barking outside and an owl hooting somewhere in the distance. I pull my hair back with my hands and exhale slowly. “Come on, think Marnie! Did you fall asleep?” I question myself. Hoping an answer will fly down from the heavens and Bing! Answer delivered.

I am tempted to ask Google where the hell I may have went.

Did I go to sleep? Did I fall somewhere? Sleepwalk?

I don’t normally sleepwalk. I hear of cases where people do, but me? No. I barely have nightmares. Maybe once a year there is a strange dream I’d have, but sleepwalking?

For the last six months I would have periods of time missing. Chunks stolen right from me and for the life of me, I do not know why.

My husband, thank God for him, is patient and kind. He goes to work, pays the bills, make sure we are alright.

Checks on me from time to time.

Sometimes he gets busy and can’t call.

Sometimes, he comes home early, sometimes he don’t.

I wish he would come home on time often.

Now we live in a nice three bedroom home in the middle of Count Town, Maine. It is freezing up here and that is bad because I am a Floridian.

I am used to sunshine and maybe wet days and of course hot Christmases. I have a bikini body still even though I am pushing forty and I keep up my health.

Here, everything is frigid. We are miles away from the nearest grocer and mall and the fields stretch as far as the eye can see.

One night, I spotted a green glowing eyed wolf.

My husband said I have a wild imagination and Stephen King would be proud of me, perhaps I should write a book?

No. I am not interested in a book.

My neighbors…who are they? I don’t think I’ve seen another living soul since we moved here six months ago.

I keep up with my family by calling them, or using Skype.

My best friends are on Facebook so at least I see what they are doing.

I scrimped up enough change for a flight back to Florida soon. I’ve spoken with Bob about it, he’s okay with it but I can tell he is trying to keep Florida at bay.

I understand.

His new job involves being an accountant for a prominent business and he uses our one and only car to get to and from work.

With his next check, he will get me a car.

I can’t wait. The only times I am out is when he is off.

He is not off tomorrow.

Not the next day either.

I meet him in the bedroom just as he is pulling off his socks. The room now has a rancid odor.

“Wash your feet, Bob!”

“Join me in the shower!” He waggles his thick, brown eyebrows.

“I don’t know. Don’t want you to kill me with them things.” I peel off my thick, cotton sweater and peel off my clothes too.

We crowd in our luxurious tub together and have a good time, like old times. Once we are done, I pull on the warm, red silk pajama set my friend Christen Deen gave me as a wedding gift. I slip into and ask if my hubby wants some homemade pizza.

He is pulling on a white shirt, his muscles visible in his arms, evident of his workout regime in the mornings. “Sure, yeah. It’s Friday.”

I pull out the gluten free pizza bread, cheeses and homemade sauce. While taking out the bread, I realize I have a little red sauce under the bed of nails already. Odd.

I run the warm tap water and dig and pluck the red out.

Several of my nails on each hand has the red gunk under it and I wonder why I hadn’t noticed it before.

My husband’s back is to me, he is watching a game.

I go over and lift the back of his shirt.

“Marnie?” He turns.

“Just seeing if, ah, if I scratched you. I got skin, or blood under my nails, I think.”

“You did, but not deep,” he winks.

I don’t wink back.

Maybe one of the pizza packages or sauce packs had sauce under it or something. I shrug and finish the pizza.

An hour later we are cozying up, watching Rings.

I abhor scary movies.

My husband knows this and yet insisted on this? Just because to him, “it ain’t scary enough anyway.”

I pull out my cell phone halfway through the movie to text my mom. I am not in the mood for blood and gore.

Once it is done, my husband turns down the volume and takes my hand in his. “Is everything okay, Marnie Babe?”

I curl up then stretched my toes out on him. “Not really.”

His attention went to my toes and he played with them, gently wiggling each one. “Sorry. Maybe this place is gloomier than I thought.”

“Lonely too,” I poke out my bottom lip for effect.

“I know. My family is from here, but the job offer was too good to pass up. Now we have our own place and not living with roommates to save cash. Isn’t that good?”


“Well, how about once we get your car, we can maybe move in a more city area.”

“I want to go back to Florida,” I say softly. Firm. “I don’t like it here, Bob.”

“I see.” He stops wiggling my toes and watches the black screen, deep in thought.

I finally feel the effects of the food. I get really sleepy and I recall Bob lifting me up and placing me in bed. The covers feel so good and soft on my skin and I drift into the huge pillows and turn my cheek as he kisses it.

You are the perfect wife…

The perfect wife…


I snap awake. Eyes open and I see stars, white sparkling stars and hear the wolf.

I wake up because I felt something sharp.


I sit up and realize the coldness has seeped into my skin, my hair my face, my back and butt are icy and I think I am in the middle of…

“Where am I?”

I can’t see anything. I am freezing. Cold.

But there is something else.

I feel around me and I feel other soft bodies, cold bodies.

Unmoving bodies.

What the…?

I can’t see anything but the stars above.

They seem farther away than normal.

I am in a hole.

“HELLLLLLP!” I yell.

I feel a naked, cold body press against me when I move to stand. “HELLLLP!”

Oh God.

I try to pray, but I don’t know any prayers.

I close my eyes and-


“Marnie. Marnie!” My body is jerking to and fro, my husband’s gray eyes are big. “Where did you go?”

“I went nowhere but to sleep!”

Sleep?” His brow crinkles. For two days? Not here?” He whips out his cell phone.

I am in my same PJs and I touch my hair. It is wet. My brown strands dark and slick with cold water.

“Honey, jump in the bath. I ran a hot one for you and I have the heated blanket-”

“When did I get here?” I ask.

*If you’d like more of this short story, stay tuned for its conclusion and more in Fright of the Frostbitten. Tentative publishing date is February 2018!

Queens of Men 2: Pipe’s Threat

aromatic photo
Aromatic Candle Art by George Becker


*Here is the next installment to my blog story series Queens of Men. Things get a bit difficult for Nikki as her ex with the lethal tongue threatens her agency! Click here to read part 1!


Dino watched the indecision cross over Nikki’s beautiful face.

She was so uptight.

Such a turn on when she blushed crimson, then clear when trying to establish her control. Her pulled his hand from hers reluctantly. “No pressure, Nikki.”

“Uh huh,” she approached the shining white four door car that was hers. When she popped the door open he could smell the new car scent and artificial strawberry from the dangling red pine tree hanging on the mirror of her car.

He watched as her lush backside slide into the seat.

He waved his fingers at her, blew a playful kiss— which she ignored.

Yeah, maybe she was way out of his league. The women on his list to escort this week was long. He definitely had his work cut out for him. Some chick named Randy Red, a half Asian half African chick, with a pretty mouth and head full of spiraling curls will be his date tomorrow.

He knew enough about her to know…that even she wouldn’t do for him. But she will be a pretty date and she wanted to make her boyfriend jealous.

Most women the agency cater to are usually twenty-five and older. They are lonely or even married and want a fun night to let their hair down, be treasured, no arguments or worrying over babysitters and bills or husbands who won’t listen to them.

Queens of Men agency was there to be an ear to hear and masculine shoulders to cry on- no judgments. Some carried it out further providing “Sticky” services that could put Nikki’s agency on the hot list for investigation.

Dino will admit that he has broken a few of those rules, other men of the agency broke them too.

But Dino played by the rules.

Its easy to follow the rules when the woman of your dreams was constantly on your brain like some leech on the brain sucking your blood and intelligence. Turning you from all other women.

That’s what Nikki Treasure did to him.

She possessed his dreams and turned them wet. Possessed his mind and made him stupid, but as long as he pulls off the gentlemanly way, she will choose him.

If not, he can move on.


Taking her grandpa’s money and investing it in Queens of Men Escort Services was the best thing she could do. It was like having a candy store knowing you won’t need to eat it. She didn’t need love from men anymore, they were trifling and cheaters, but she could employ good eye candy to give some other women a good time.

Nikki held her tablet in front of her. She was still getting emails and requests from the ladies via the app. Many of them either wanted Dino or Peter “Pipe” Smith.

Mostly for Dino.

“My Queen!” Pipe said, his big personality filling the room. Nikki didn’t even hear him knock. “I know you have some work for me but as I always say, you are free to join me and the ladies anytime. Don’t be shy.”

“What do you want?” Nikki asked warily.

“Just wanted to drop in.” His 6’1 masculine frame was clad in bright Navy Tom Ford Sharksin suit which probably ran him a couple thousand dollars. The way he smiled reminded her of a serpent.

“Did you complete your order?”

“I did. You should select more mahogany beauties in the future. I had loads and I do mean loads of fun with Angela Mwekeme.”

 I hope he did not…

He couldn’t…

“Pipe! You did not have sex with her, did you?”

Pipe looked every bit the cat that caught the canary. Nikki so badly wanted to wipe the smug, stupid look from his face. Permanently. “Jealous, My Queen?”

Jealous? We have a strict code, set by law. No sex! If one of these women decides to keep your semen or a hair follicle, record sessions-”

“Relax. Relax.” He leaned over my table like he owned the place. “I am waxed as a newborn baby, I use protection and have a no phones allowed policy. See?”

“Don’t tell me that! Now I’m privy to you telling me you prostituted yourself!” Nikki huffed and stormed over to her door which was slightly ajar, to shut it tightly. Getting up was a mistake, Pipe’s eyes went from playful brown to bedroom lust as he checked her out so boldly and openly.

Peter Smith, a.k.a. Pipe was not a bad looking man at all. In fact, he was nearly a doppelganger of Theo James to be exact, and rumored to have a lethal tongue.

Nikki knew from experience, it was indeed true. He had a magical tongue. But being with Pipe was a mistake never to be repeated, that’s for sure.

“Come on, Nikki,” he whispered stepping to close. “I know you get lonely. You can’t possibly be waiting around for Prince Charming when the Hot Devil is right here waiting for you. My body is always at your service.”

Pipe was closer to Nikki’s age being a year younger but sometimes he was more a child than a man. “Oh my goodness. No, Pipe!” He brushed his hips against hers forcefully, causing her back to press against the door.

Pipe suddenly had his hands clasped around both her wrists. Tightly. “I just want to hear you scream for me, Mi Cherie. I love how you say my name in bed. Such an expressive vixen you are.” He then opened his mouth to display his undulating tongue which was uncharacteristically long and bobbed up and down expertly.

Nikki pushed him away hard. “I have a guard on post if you try that again, Pipe. Get the hell out! As a warning, you can no longer accept weekly dates this month, and you will have 10% garnished from your earnings this month. Got it?”

Feeling more in control, Nikki went over to her desk, picked up her tablet and sent an email message to Stacy in payroll to take Pipe’s 10% out, but while doing so Pipe stood there, snarling.

“You don’t want to mess with me, Your Highness,” he grit out. “There are things I know about this agency that once I let them out, you will be sorry and instead of me cuffing you to my bed, the cops will cuff you and haul your pretty ass to the clinker.”

With incredible force he slams the door making papers swirl about in a white haze.

What stuff did he know? Were there illegal activities going on around me? Nikki wondered in slight fear.

She held her, bruised sore wrist in her hand, massaging it.

Copyright©2017 Erica Jean Smith

*Thanks for reading everyone! 

I love feedback and interaction, so be a sweetie and do either of the following or all of them: Like, Share, Reblog, Comment. 🙂


School for Zombies: Dead Guts and Hard Abs

Fall of Autumn3a
The Fall of Autumn by Erica Jean Smith to be Released November 2017



Although brief, the stories will sweep you away. Here is an excerpt of what you will find…

Update: The Fall of Autumn(full book) is now available. Click here for details!


School for Zombies

Part 1


If anyone would have told me I would be stuck in a closet with the hottest zombie ever this side of the Atlantic, “I would have said WTF and get out of here”.

But here I am. In the janitor’s closet of all places.

Stuck with Sindrome. That’s his name for real. A  tall, well built zombie who looks down on me now like a tasty snack but because of our current and dire situation, he cannot afford to eat me.

“Explain again what you saw.” He growls, annoyed.

I roll my eyes to him.  “I said, I went back to the cafeteria to see if I left my small wallet on the floor by the cashier and I heard the noise and started running. It sounded horrific, like vomiting but, I don’t know.”

I had went into the cafeteria ten minutes earlier to retrieve my pink wallet. I knew better than to go alone.

In my dad’s infinite wisdom, he placed me in a school that was full of dead folks. On the outside everything looks normal and new, and the people look beautiful and normal. Borbon High School is a lie. A fake.

It is a  Night School. For zombies.

And guess what? I am not one.

How do I get away with it? My dad, a chemist involved with making popular perfumes for celebrities, made a special perfume for me that repels the dead. Meaning my brain which is capable of a 2.9 GPA at best, will not be morsels to these monsters.

Turns out though that my “Dad” he really wasn’t my dad though. Just a mad scientist who was using me as bait.

He knew my real dad.

Turns out Sindrome is my only ally because he has living human beings he cares for still.

A living, breathing Barbie doll of a girlfriend he wants to save and he knows I have the perfume that will prevent him from wanting to snack on her brains like a burrito.

So anyway, I walk up into the cafeteria as if I am not completely surrounded by zombies. And. No. I do not eat their food. Are you kidding me? I bring my own bag lunch. I purchase their canned drinks though because they are colder and packaged from a local factory.

I had reached down to pick up my purse when I hear the snap of something like a big chicken bone and followed by a loud shriek.

I look over the sneeze guards which previously shielded meatloaf(yeah right) and mac and cheese. Hidden beneath these dishes are brains. Just to let you know. The “real” food is placed on top to make the zombies feel normal as they once did.

But yeah, its brain squash underneath.

Beyond the large sink and stove, I saw movement in the backroom and then a large splash of red hits the window. Blood.

I bucked out of there quick, just as I heard the quick clicking of heels on my tail.

I turn a corner nearly colliding into a locker and that was when I spotted Sindrome smoking a joint -or appears to be smoking…in the janitor’s closet with the door half opened.

“Let me in!” I whisper loudly pushing him inside, not caring if he dropped his cigarillo. I bang the door closed. Confident I left the ghoul or whatever was chasing me.

“Patty,” Sindrome puts both hands on my shoulder. His whole body is ivory and cold to the touch, but it is those eyes that do me in every time.  They are- aquamarine?

Damn! I am not falling for no damn dead person. Nope! Not me! His eyes are a dreamy, kind of aqua framed by long lashes that are ebony- ebony like his hair, ebony like me and my hair.

This closet is too tiny for my fro and his body. One of us has to go.

“Keep quiet, Patty.” He says again. “I hear something.”

I scooch my body closer to Sindrome, aware that my ample booty is now pressing against surprisingly rock hard abs.

Yes. I’m officially losing it.

But I nearly lose my cookies when through the slats of the door I see some wolf-beast-dog thing with long, yellow teeth stalking the hall.

It was as big, or almost as high as five Great Danes and the smell of death followed it. Even Sindrome smelled better. Well, Sindorme always smells of water and leaves mostly. Cigar leaves. Perhaps he has a better wash regime than I give him credit for.

“What the hell is that?” He asks me.

“I don’t know?” I whisper back. “I am new here to this state, this city, this school. Virginia is looney tunes!”

The wolf monster thing pauses. I see its high black butt and three tails wagging.

My heart nearly plummets.

If Sindrome is truly evil, he could just push me out the door and be done with me. The wolf thing could then gobble me up and maybe it’ll spit out my fro- just to be nice.

I have all kinds of crazy scenarios playing in my head right now.

Sindrome has cold, dead hands on my shoulder and I am pressed up against him like we’re lovers.

We are so. not. lovers.

He hates my guts because of my “dad” and I hate his because he is dead. He has dead guts.

“I have to alert everyone else somehow.”

“Wait. You’re scared of it too? Aren’t you a zombie?”

“I have a very bad feeling about this.” He pulls out his cell phone but I remain on him, booty and all. I am scared and did I mention the closet is cramped? Full of dirty mops and thousands of chemicals I am unfamiliar with.

He texts someone just as we hear another scream and I hear that bone cracking noise again. I cringe and throw my body harder against Sindrome’s body.


“Huh?” I can’t understand what he is saying.

“I said-” he does something with my hair.

Oh. He pushes it down. I am about to swing on him and knock him out for that alone. Then he growls: “I said your hair is in my mouth.”

“Oh, God. Sorry.”

Sindrome swears under his breath and suddenly my worst nightmare comes true.

I am pushed through the door with my arms out and I stumble into a hallway that is suddenly overcrowded with zombies. Teachers and everybody is scurrying. Blood dripping from hands and faces.

Some are with a gaping hole in their chest to the point I can see the wall clearly though them and the stampede.

I am tossed and thrown about, trying to run for the exit when I am roughly pulled from the melee.

“This way”, he growls low in my ear and before I can protest, I am yanked again through the crowds.

“You have your motorcycle?” He asks.

“I do.”

“We need it.” I pull the keys from my pocket, unsure how this will all play out.

If I’m smart, I could let him get torn to shreds by the  Wolf Beast thing.

But who said I was smart?

We are moving too fast down the hall and that is when I hear the worst sound of all.

“The hell?” Sindrome pauses as the top floor, that holds the library and classrooms, suddenly wobbles as if it is made of rubber and I see some plaster fall down.

Three very big, large black Wolf Beasts stands at the top. Red eyes looking right at me and through me.

Copyright ©2017, Erica Jean Smith

*The rest of the short story will  be released November 2017 as part of The Fall of Autumn Collection for Smashwords and Barnes and Noble!



Fiction Friday: Just Another Rainy Day

kiss by snapwire


Synopsis: Stalita Jay is not one for trusting strangers, but on this rainy October 13th, she did.

Maybe she shouldn’t have…

*Don’t forget to join Marquessa’s blog for more fun challenges and just to connect with other bloggers like yourself!

“If you let me kiss you, I can prove to you what I am.” The crazy man in the long leather jacket, black pants, black shirt and matching boots told her.

“The hell you are!” Stalita Jay shook her head furiously. It was Friday the 13th, her brand new car just ran a flat, her mother just hinted that breast cancer is cresting over her health, and Bobby, her nice baby faced brother, needs at least a thousand dollars to bust him out of the clink.

The last thing she needed was some delusional, albeit, HOT stranger, telling her to kiss him. He could have cooties.

No. Scratch that. The herpes.

“I just need help with my spare tire. Stupid me don’t know a thing about changing a flat.” Thanks to being treated like a royal princess all my life.

Stalita looked down at her suede pumps and lamented how on the day she gets her brand new job working as an office assistant for an accountant; she breaks out her new beige pumps and…wait for it…

It rains. On. Her. Suede. Pumps.

The rain pours. The torrential downpour and rolling thunder has her pink and beige JC Penny suit soaked through, and the stranger smiles. Wolfish.

His raven black hair extends past his waist just about. He was very pale and had the look of some Adonis from another time. Ancient time. His lips were damn beautiful.

“Like I said, I can do it for a kiss. Your very wish for all to go right in your world, will happen.”

“And like I said. No.”

“Suit yourself.” He approached her car barely making splash sounds with his feet. Stalita noticed that his booted feet(how much did those things cost?!) and the water, met at a hard balance. A centered dance.

He was…

Walking on water.

Stalita shook her head. The cobwebs of lethargy must be making her imagine things.

The stranger took the bottle jack and used it to hoist the car up while he deftly, expertly changed the car in silence. Stalita noticed the tick in his jaw and was still amazed at how his boots were not sinking into the puddles and mud.

“What was your name again?”

Without looking at her, he said, “Lex.”

Okay, Lex. Put your money where your mouth is. Kiss me and make me believe you can change my life right now.”

“Sure. Okay.”

Lex finished changing the tire for her and replaced everything back into her trunk neatly. It was still light out but gray as fresh concrete and Stalita just wanted to go home and melt in her warm bath.

He approached her. “Now…this may feel— different.”

It was just a kiss. How much different can it be?

She could tell he was well built, as if he surfed for a lifetime-even though he reminded her more of a vampire than a surfer.

With gentle cupping of her neck, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her closed one.

Stalita closed her eyes.

“Can you…let me in?” His husky voice sang over body and suddenly it was like electricity shot down her spine. Touched her. EVERYWHERE.

What was that?

Stalita obeyed and when his mouth met her warm one, she felt thousands of somethings, wet and slithery coat her mouth and prick her tongue and gums repeatedly.

She tried to pull away but Lex held on to her tighter, never letting her go. The kiss. His kiss had gone deeper. Deeper. The tickling and biting wouldn’t stop and the weird things was-

She liked it.

When she opened her eyes, she was back in her room. The sun was shining, spilling through the blinds and her British short hair cat Meow, sat at the foot her bed with a look of confusion and distrust.

“What’s wrong?” She asked him.

With a short grunt, Meow leaped gracefully off her bed and out of the room.

Stalita massaged her temples and went for her phone on her nightstand. “What a weird dream,” she said.

Her phone buzzed. Funny. She thought she had the ringtone set to Rise by Andra Day.

A text from her best friend Charlie: Ready for move in day? I have my part of the deposit already. Thanks for being a cool friend!

But you already live here LOL! Stalita text back.

Girl don’t be silly. I will be there in 1 hour.

Stalita leaped from her bed and checked the room in her apartment. The rooms were empty. As if Charlie never lived there.

“What the…?”

When she used the knock code to unlock her phone, something caught Stalita’s eye that shouldn’t.

“Oh noo.”

The date and time on the screen read October 13, 2015.

She went back two years.

Copyright© 2017 Erica Jean Smith

P.S. This is just a snippet of the genie saga I published a while back. It is under another name and Lex will have his own story someday. Just thought I’d play around with the plot a bit! Thanks for reading! 🙂


Fiction Friday Challenge: Other Side of the Page

asia bench
Image of Asia Bench found on

Synopsis: A sibling finds out that being locked in a room is never the end of the story…

I slowly close the romance novel I’ve been reading and feel myself being squeezed out as if through a mother’s womb.

The tightness grips my shoulders and my head; I momentarily can not breath;  the overwhelming tickle of nausea seizes my throat and belly, and finally I flop onto my wood floor.

I nearly forgot what my wood floor felt and looked like. My small, cramped room of one barred window, one cot and rows and rows of books . Books.  Each one takes me to a new world, a new place. I am so used to being literally sucked in the books now, that I kind of get used to the whirlwind headache it gives me afterwards.

I am not sure about this gift at all but ever since my evil, older sister locked me in the room below the house complete with nothing but books, I have found that my love of words brought the worlds to life. Scared the heck out of me!

I’ve taken trips to Mars, Ireland, Africa, Hawaii, and just now some place called Poughkeepsie New York? I fell in love with the main character- a simple man who wore red scarves and studied marine biology, but whose hands were always warm and smooth across my chilly body…

I look upwards at the books along the wall. There is no bookshelf, just rows and rows of dusty books. Sitting on this floor I realize- I’ve been all around the world but there is one place I have not visited.

I see the shiny black binding, the glossy dust jacket sticking out between A Tale of Two Cities and Switch on Your Brain(I really should alphabetize these things).

The book is heavy, a tome weighing down on my palms, called the Onyx Japanese Warriors and on the cover there is a big splat of blood with a sword stuck in it’s gooey center.

My hands shake as I grab it. I am scared. I am enthralled. What role will I play? Will I be murdered? Or be the conqueror? Either way, it is the last book left to read and I have nowhere else to go. I will die in this musty, cramped room.

All because of a sister’s envy.

I’ve always wanted to go to Japan though. Pray I make it back in one piece..

Copyright©2017 Erica Jean Smith

Thank you for reading! Marquessa has October Fiction Prompts ready each Friday, so please stop by her blog to say hello!


Fiction Friday Challenge: Dumplings With a Side of Lust

Image found on



Synopsis: Julissa Ogebo is the woman every man desired, but what if the wrong one desires her? Please read on to find out what happens next and don’t forget to join in the Fiction Friday Challenge on Marquessa’s blog!

Phan’s Cuisine for fine Chinese food dining, was packed tonight, but Brad Roman could not keep his eyes off the beauty of Julissa Ogebo. Even with his wife next to him, her nails digging into his arms and trying her hardest to become Siamese twins with him, his eyes, his tongue, his freakin’ loins screamed for the delectable Julissa.

The same Julissa who was definitely out of all their leagues. She was a walking Nubian beauty with almond shaped eyes and tonight she pulled the ultimate ball busting stunt of wearing a tight skirt barely kissing the tops of her knees and a matching top to show off her Michelle Obama worthy arms.

Her curves…

Those. Damn. Curves.

“So, yeah we can all like do kayaking this time,” his wife Darla said but then looked over at Julissa. “Unless water is not your thing, Jules.”

Julissa, ever the personification of sex and grace shrugged a shoulder: “My body bathes in it every day so yeah, Kyaking would be cool.” She sighed heavily. Brad nearly wanted to strangle Darla. Yes they’ve been together five years and yes Julissa, Lindsay, Joseph and Susan have all been friends since high school. Julissa was the new girl their senior year in high school, but everyone took an instant liking to the Nigerian born Graphic Designer.

She designed the clothes she wore now. Her sister actually made them. Brad hoped his thoughts couldn’t be read, because right now he was thinking of very unholy and non-matrimonial things he’d rather do to Julissa. But damn she was so caught up in her childhood sweetheart blowing up her phone. And double damn he was married.

He watched as she excused herself to answer her phone. For the fourth time.

Joseph drank down the rest of his sweet tea. “Maybe I should go console her or something. That douche she calls a man is too controlling.”

Everyone agreed. Brad’s wife coughed a little and dug her fork into her dumplings. Julissa walked further from the table and you could almost hear a pin drop. Her body cut through the air like a snake in water. Her curves and that behind were like drum beats and Brad would bet all his money every man, married or not, was ogling her, wishing they had her.

“She needs someone to talk to. This is getting out of hand.” He stands but his wife’s nails dig into his upper arm. Her ice blue eyes froze him on the spot.

“If she does, then it is I, a woman’s voice and advice she needs. I will come too.”

Brad saw his friend’s faces. Their eyes communicated one thing: “Go after that woman!”

Brad shook his head and went over to the balcony where Julissa stood, leaning over it, scrolling over her phone. The sun had gone down and left gold and navy streaks overhead and the ocean was calm, still.

His wife’s nails bit into him hard. He couldn’t be mad at her. He was quite the catch: tall, dark, a fit body, owned his own gym. Modeled part time, so yeah she was not crazy.

“Hey Jules. You okay?” Brad asked.

Julissa turned to them, water near the edges of her eyes like dripping crystals…

“He doesn’t trust me.”

“Maybe that is something you two should discuss. I mean ignoring him isn’t going to help either.” Darla said pointedly.

“Nor arguing,” Brad added, wishing he could vomit the words to the ground.

“Maybe,” Julissa bit her bottom lip. It was funny seeing Darla right here too. She never thought Darla cared, but then again, Darla never really treated her as part of their friendly group anyway.

Brad was her true best friend. He was always there for her, helped her in math class, stood by her as they lowered her mother’s body in the ground two years prior and he even cooked for her.

She couldn’t ask for a better friend than that. He was the sole constant in her life, along with their other friends. Yet Brad was truly special.

Brad tried to encourage her more until finally Julissa agreed to just speak with her boyfriend and make amends. She saw a wide smile crack over Darla’s pretty face.

When she arrived home that night, Julissa kicked off her shoes and was about to call her controlling and overbearing boyfriend when a text burned in black across her screen:

I would get down on my knees, I would do anything for you. You know that right?

Then the next message:


Both texts were from Brad. Not Damonte.

Julissa responded: That is not appropriate.

I know… I am unhappily married and you are unhappy. Seriously. I hope you drop him.

Julissa sucked in a breath. Brad. Handsome, successful, very MARRIED Brad was texting her that he desired her.

But she will not be like her sister. Their grandmother always told them home wrecking was in the Ogebo blood, and Julissa was too practical and too good for that. She had morals.

But her moral fibers around Brad always thinned from bone gristle to silken spider webs, easy to tread over and break down until fire built up into molten passion and that passionate blaze could only be put out by him.

But what if it never burned to embers?

What if she want the fire to last?

Julissa gave him the only response a woman from her home wrecking lineage would…

Copyright©2017 Erica Jean Smith, All Rights Reserved

*Thank you all for reading. I definitely have moral fibers that my characters do not, but it was fun writing about them!

EDIT: In the original ending, Julissa texts Brad to come over at midnight. Women from her lineage are known for snagging “snagged” men! 🙂