Everyone loves a good zombie.

I've done it again, achieved proof of my writing prowess by winning another weekly flash fiction contest.  This tells me two things, #1 I really need to update my twitter profile pic, and #2 I should start entering contests that award cash prizes.

Three prompts for this one, the above photo, the phrase "survive this" which must be included somewhere in the piece, and the following scenario provided by judge Karen DeLabar:

"You woke up… ten days later. What do you do? What do you remember? Where are you? How do you piece everything together?"

 No rhyming couplets for this one, just your average zombie tale.  Le voici:

My Last Meal
By J M Filipowicz

I wake in a rainbow glow, the aurora borealis casting its light over the parking lot. If I believe the date on my wristwatch, ten days have passed. My suit and stockings are caked in black mud, my new black pumps missing. My head throbs. Touching my hair, I find it sticky with blood. A pool of it stains the pavement, footprints running through. They left me for dead, took my shoes and kept running.

Hunger gnaws. I think of the last thing I ate, yogurt from the break room fridge. No time for proper breakfast. If I survive this, I’ll have a steak, juicy and rare. I can taste the salty sweet blood.

I limp across the parking lot. A shadow darts under a flickering street light.

“Wait!” My voice groans. I don’t recognize it.

A man steps into the light, wearing the olive green of a security guard. He approaches cautiously, holding his broken flashlight like a weapon. He reeks of sweat and fear. An animal inside me takes over. I know how to satisfy my hunger.

As the man swings his flashlight I grab his arm, pull it towards me, and take a bite. Salty and sweet.

THE END

200 words on the nose. Woot! Woot!  Here's what judge Karen had to say about it:

"As much as I love romance, I love dark and mysterious even more. I loved how it started out with what was a seemingly ordinary girl, other than the fact she can’t remember the last ten days, she’s caked in mud and her hair is sticky with blood. My favorite part of this story was the connection between the steak she was going to treat herself with when she found her way again and what her actual meal ended up being. It’s little twists like those that make me want to read more."

Thanks Karen!  Also thank you to Cara Michaels for hosting the contest.   And congratulations to honourable mentions Daniel Swenson, Quil Shiv, and H. L. Pauff and to the "judge's pet" Mark Ethridge.

Canoodling in the Tulips

So yesterday I entered the Tuesday Tales contest over at Glitterword, a weekly flash fiction contest based on a couple prompts.  The prompts were the above photo and the word 'canoodle'. Now I don't typically write poetry, but the combination of tulips and canoodling just begged to be made into rhyming verse.

Well I won!  I get to display this badge on my blog:

I'll also be judging the contest in two weeks which should be a prestigious addition to my writing resumé. It was a bit of a challenge getting the right number of words and the right number of syllables (still not sure about the rhythm of the last verse), but I got it to exactly 100 words. Boo ya!  Without further ado, here it is:

Canoodling in the Tulips
by J M Filipowicz

Darling I love canoodling in the tulips
The sunshine is warm and the ground’s not too hard
Dewy and moist and caressed by your two lips
Canoodling in tulips in the neighbour’s yard.

They’ll never catch us hidden in the tulips
Canoodling gently without making a peep
They might catch a glimpse of your hips or my hips
And they’ll think through the weeds a creature does creep.

Exhausted then canoodling in the tulips
We’ll fall fast asleep ‘cause the ground isn’t hard
Awake in the night we’ll crawl through the tulips
And climb the fence naked into our backyard.


Thanks @theglitterlady for hosting the contest each week and @AngeliqueRider for judging. And congrats to honourable mentions: @KelseyPotter13, and @Rowanwolf66.

I know some of you might be imagining that my poem is based on personal experience (I'm talking to you, Columbia).  Rather than confirm or deny anything, I shall leave you with this winky face.  ;)

I won!

My first time entering the #HumpDayChallenge, a flash fiction contest over at Tracy's Tavern and I won!  The prize: bragging rights and a cute picture to display on my blog.


The challenge: use these words in a 100-word story: labor, corrupt, horseradish, aces, and turf.


So of course this is where my mind went:

The queen spreads her six legs in a starburst before me. Her vulva smells of horseradish. Despite her cruel and corrupt regime, I pity her vulnerability. For the first time, I don’t envy the mothers of our race. She contracts her muscles to turf the first egg from her womb. I catch it with my outstretched mandibles, letting the rest smash against the stone ground. As her labor nears its end, I thrust my pincer through her quivering body, bathing myself in her yellowish blood. She’ll never know why her aces turned against her.


Labour without the "u" looks wrong to me.  Also, I thought the use of "aces" was a little forced, and I have no idea why alien bugs would know what horseradish smells like, but that doesn't matter.  Winning is the important thing. 


Voting is important too.  So if you live in Ontario, and you haven't already, please vote today.  There's still time!