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Night Owl Poetry – Dorinda Duclos

~ "The silence of the night awakens my soul"

Night Owl Poetry – Dorinda Duclos

Tag Archives: #shortstory

The Near-Perfect Crime ~ #poetry #DecemberWriting

18 Tuesday Dec 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in December Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

#DecemberWriting, #shortstory, blade, blood, dorindaduclos.com, knife, murder, Night Owl Poetry, perfect murder, writing, writing prompt


The night seemed colder, as the day grew older

Had he been planning his revenge all this time?

Feeling a bit unsteady, unsure if he was ready

Still, he knew he had planned the perfect crime

Over by the door, hearing footsteps on the floor

Finally, she came home, from her day at work

A long awaited moment, a kiss, was his bestowment

And that’s when everything went quite berserk

He never saw the blade, seems he had been played

She turned the tables, on his own deadly scheme

Beads of sweat, replaced by blood, he landed with a thud

As she walked away, she smiled, with an evil gleam

 

December Writing Prompt – Droplets of sweat fell to his lap as the blade glistened – Day 18/31

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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Stuck in One Place ~ #poetry #DecemberWriting

17 Monday Dec 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in December Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

#DecemberWriting, #shortstory, computer, dorindaduclos.com, glitch, imagination, monitor, Night Owl Poetry, screen, skeleton, writing, writing prompt


He spent so many hours, in front of his computer
Never moved a single inch, he was a non-commuter
Tower underneath his desk, files shoved under, too
A monitor stuck on one screen, always the same view

No matter how he tried, he couldn’t make it work
Even the mouse wouldn’t move, maybe just a quirk?
What he saw in the reflection, gave him quite a scare
He had been there for so long, he stuck right to the chair

Only bones remained, although he was fully clad
Maybe he tried a new diet, it couldn’t be all bad
Still, the skeleton on the screen, stared right back at him
He had to come to grips, as he was looking rather grim

And yet, he refused to believe, it was his face, so he rejected
Blaming, yes, the cable guys, they must have disconnected
Again he checked the screen, hoping for an explanation
Was this all a simple glitch, or merely his imagination?

 

Moral of the story? Get off the computer and LIVE!!

 

December Writing Prompt – Was it a glitch or just his imagination? – Day 17/31

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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The Wooden Door ~ #shortstory #DecemberWriting

16 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in December Writing, Poems, short story

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

#DecemberWriting, #shortstory, brass, door, dorindaduclos.com, melt, mystery, Night Owl Poetry, suspense, wooden door, writing, writing prompt


There was something about that house. Every day she walked by it, something was different. This time it was the front door, though she wasn’t quite sure what it was that caught her attention. She always admired the brass door frame, but the brown wooden door looked out of place there. Even the railings of the porch steps had touches of brass. Why not go for the extra, and make the door brass also?

Feeling a bit adventuresome, she decided to walk up the steps to get a closer look at the door. She hesitated at first, but didn’t think anything of it. As she got closer, she felt a strange warmth. Touching the door, she realized it wasn’t wood at all, but a rather strange looking metal.  And the heat she felt was emanating directly from it.  Suddenly, in front of her, the door began to melt against the brass frame, until it disappeared, and she with it…

 

December Writing Prompt – And suddenly the door began to melt against the brass frame – Day 16/31

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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#writephoto – Untrodden – #shortstory

01 Saturday Dec 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in Poetry, short story, WritePhoto

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

#shortstory, best friends, dorindaduclos.com, evil, friendly, hidden, Night Owl Poetry, photo prompt, snow, spirits, stones, Sue Vincent's Write Photo, trails, untrodden, WritePhoto, writing


Nothing marked the path she saw in front of her. Unless, of course, she considered the fence posts and the trees, which lined the sides. Abigail wasn’t sure if she should continue on. The trail was untrodden, not a single footprint, not even that of a doe’s, was anywhere to be seen.

“I don’t think we should go any further”, she said, “Maybe we should turn back.”

“Why?” asked her best friend, Caroline, who had made the trip to the countryside just to go hiking in the snow.

“I don’t know. I have a funny feeling about this. Look around. Do you see any other markings that would indicate others had been through this way?”

“Ummm, no”, said Caroline, looking around, “I don’t. But that doesn’t mean anything. I know we’ve never hiked this trail before, but the snow is fresh. Maybe we’re just lucky and are the first ones to make it up here.”

Abigail still wasn’t sure. What Caroline said made perfect sense, but she still got an eerie feeling from the air around her. At first she thought it was the cold, but soon realized it to be far more than that. Her grandmother had told her stories about this area, stories of the spirits who roamed these paths, never leaving a trail. As a child, she thought her grandmother mad to speak of such things. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Looking further ahead, she tried to make out a gathering. It looked much like a stone foundation in the form of a square. The stones. Grandmother often spoke of the powerful magic of the stones. Lost in thought, she hadn’t realized that Caroline had been jabbering this whole time. Snapping out of it, Abigail just nodded as if she actually knew what Caroline was talking about. With a heavy sigh, Abigail turned around, ready to head back home. But Caroline wanted nothing to do with those plans.

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “I didn’t come all this way for you to wimp out on me based on a lack of footprints in some snow. I’m going on. You can go home, if you want. I’ll see you later.” And with that, Caroline was on her way, heading straight for the pure white snow ahead. Caroline remembered she was told to never hike alone. Dark fell fast in the hills. You didn’t want to be caught wandering after the sun set.

Not really knowing what to do, she turned to head toward Caroline, but when she did, Caroline was gone. Panic began to set in, as she looked left and right, ahead and behind her, but she couldn’t see her friend anywhere. Mumbling to herself, admonishing for allowing Caroline to go off on her own, she started for the path and the stone structure that lied ahead. As she began to cross the path, she felt an air around her, as if it was lifting her off the ground. Looking down, she saw her feet weren’t touching the ground. She tried to scream, but no sound could be heard.

Before she knew it, she was inside the stone structure, no footprints anywhere, and no Caroline either. She called out to her friend, but was met with silence. Perhaps Grandmother was telling the truth all those years. Perhaps there really were spirits who dwell in these woods. But the one thing Grandmother never told her…whether or not the spirits were friendly… or evil…

 

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo ©Sue Vincent – Untrodden 

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Elusive Realities: Dorinda Duclos – Love from Beyond

29 Sunday Apr 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in short story

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

#shortstory, Daily Echo, dorindaduclos.com, Elusive Realities, encounters, life, Night Owl Poetry, non-fiction, series, signs from above, spirits, Sue Vincent, writing

I was honored when Sue asked me to contribute my stories to her “Elusive Realities” series. So many of us have had encounters with spirits, and most shrug it off as coincidence…but it’s not. I hope you enjoy my stories. Thank you, Sue, for allowing me to share this with your readers ❤

Sue Vincent's avatarSue Vincent's Daily Echo

Image: Pixabay

It happened in the living room of an old boyfriend’s home.  We were sitting on the sofa discussing odds and ends, when I mentioned that I sometimes could feel my Nana (maternal grandmother) nearby.  He looked at me rather oddly, asking where she lived.  I replied “Heaven”.  We chatted a bit more, he not saying anything remotely close to the spiritual world, and then it happened.  The scent of perfume floated by us.  He asked me if it was me, as I had been fishing in my purse for something.  I just smiled, and waited.  Across the room, his black cat sat on the arm of a rocking chair.  The rocker began moving, the cat hissed and ran from the room.  Nana had made her presence known, even to a non-believer.

Another time, my daughter and I were upstairs, each in our own rooms.  She was napping.  On…

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