Aspiring/amateur/sometimes lazy writing

I wrote this in 48 hours for a horror submission call from Psycho Toxin Press. I took a Sci-Fi slant at it. My only prompt was that the title had to begin with an H. A scene from Michael Moore’s film, Roger and Me popped into mind. Rabbits: Pets or Food, because this tale. Hope you like it. I had fun writing it. Humans: Pets or Meat By: Miguel A. Rueda “Listen up.” With a crack of his gavel,…

My Sister’s Keeper.

This story won my group in round one of the 2021 NYC Midnight Short Story Competition. Prompts were, Suspense/Horoscope/A twin. My Sister’s Keeper By Wayne Hills Synopsis: The zodiac symbol for twins is Gemini; spiritually, as in everyday life, they rarely like to do anything alone. Together, the twins are known as one entity, the Dioscuri. Thomas O’Neil looked out of his bedroom balcony…

The Origins of Spectacles.

2018 NYCM Short Story. Group 80. Comedy-a eulogy-a thrill seeker. I had a week to write a 2500 word short using the prompts above. I started several times before my muse threw this idea at me on the last day.

  Synopsis:

Although the mystery of many of mankind’s original activities remain shrouded in the fog of time. This is the story of several of these firsts, including that of the Earth’s…

Weekly writing goal update.

Reviewed my open projects to decide which to work on. Most of them can be found elsewhere in the blog if anyone is so inclined.

A Ghost’s Story. Chapter 1 A story inspired by the thought that if a ghost kills you, then you’re on the same side of the ethereal plane as they are and now you can kick its ass.

Nonagad. Chapter 1. A dystopian tale of a community run by an ancient AI left by a long…

In order to achieve my dream of writing during my retirement–which in the interest of full disclosure won’t happen for at least another decade give or take–I’ve decide to use this new year for a new plan. Up until now I’ve written, and had published, a lot of short stories, but nothing that paid me anything needing to be declared on my taxes. In 2018 I want to change that.

Every day this year I…

Oma’s Cocoon. (2017 NYCM FF. Rnd 2, Grp 34.)

Oma’s Cocoon

2017 NYC Midnight Fantasy Flash Fiction challenge.

Fantasy/a cancer treatment center/a chain-link fence.

A family matriarch takes a walk through her to life to make a fateful decision.

    Martha Lutz knitted while Nurse Barnes hooked the intravenous drip into the PICC line. Martha’s blue and white yarn had numerous dropped stitches and obvious flaws. Following the pattern had been…

Written for the 2017 NYC Midnight Short Story challenge, round one.

I was tasked with writing a complete tale in a week given these prompts:

Romantic Comedy, a baker, kleptomania.

I’ve read two of the stories in my group, (23,) and both follow the same logic, one is somewhat similar to mine, the other is, unfortunately for me, hilarious. Thankfully at least three of us move on to round two.

Comme…

Cloudless blue sky, comfortable temperature, low humidity. The kind of day that when you walk outside, you place it on your mental, Top-10 days of the year. That’s the way my Tuesday, September 11th, 2001 had started. That’s the morning everyone in my town, fifteen miles due west of midtown Manhattan, started that day. We live within view of the iconic New York skyline, so close we took it for…

2016 NYCM FF Round 1 Group 20

This is my entry for the first round of the 2016 NYC Midnight Flash Fiction challenge. My prompts were, fantasy, a garbage dump, a pack of cigarettes. Feel free to comment and share.

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One Brother’s Future.

Synopsis: Brothers Matt and Nate scratch out a life on their small island of garbage. Through tragedy, their mother’s wish for her son to find a better life is given another chance.

  —

I have a friend who is a movie producer. I’ve known him since grade school, (close to 50 years.) When we were young, we made Super-8 movies and waited patiently for them to be developed so we could watch and learn from our mistakes so we make the next one better.

He went on to work in TV and movies, and I went on to acting, and although I had to give that up to pay the bills, I kept writing in…

Chronology of the Apocolypse release

Teaser note related to my  two stories included in this collection.

Chronology Amazon Link

  Alex My son,

Today, on your eighteenth birthday, it’s time you knew the truth about your father.  Jason, the man you know as your dad, my husband, isn’t your father. His brother, the man you know as Uncle Jason, is your real father.

I’ve loved Auggie from the moment we met, but time, and the laws of our…

A BARBED WIRE ROSE TAKES ROOT

2016 NYCM Screenplay challenge. Comments and shares welcome. Prompts were:

Romance

A factory worker.

An apology.

Logline: A hard-edged woman, following a path to self-destruction, makes a life decision to change, and win back the love of her life.

  EXT. WAREHOUSE DISTRICT – NIGHT

Red and blue neon reflect the words “GO-GO” off a shallow puddle. The street is illuminated by sparsely spaced…

The Will to Trust

NYCM 2016  Short Story Challenge.

Round 2, Group 7.

Romance.

Last Will and Testament.

A man with one eye.

Synopsis: A young woman’s accident cements her cynicism with the world, but provides her a way to become a successful lawyer, and break the cycle of abuse.

    The chirping of the awakening birds and the sweet smell of late-spring azaleas accompanied Maria Ruttle as she raced her BMX bike…

NYCM Short Story challenge 2016 feedback

I’ve placed 5th with my story, Quid Pro Quo. These are the comments I received from the judges. They echo those I heard from readers after my submission.

Thank you to all for their comments.

— ”Quid Pro Quo” by Miguel A. Rueda – WHAT THE JUDGE(S) LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY – …………………Interesting story. I love this bad-ass female cop. I enjoyed following her around as she invetigated the boy’s death.…

Nonagad Chapter 2

  Through most of the year, we use flat bottomed skiffs to hunt and gather in the area appropriately known to us as the 'Southern End." The swampy forest that delineates the lower border of our self-claimed land. In late summer, the marshes usually dry up enough to make passage in and out of our territory on foot easy.

 As it was on a clear morning with a clean briskness harboring promise of an early fall in the breeze, a pair or children came walking out of the high grass towards our ripe cornfields.

 Ellie's alarm sounded in the rook tower alerting us that we had a visitor. Clark and a security team rode out to investigate the intruders. Before they had even reached the pair, a third older child along with three women of various ages had joined them.

 Talking and dismounting before his steed had completely stopped, Clark asked them who they were, and as our custom is, how he could help them.

 "I'm Charlotte, answered the oldest of the group.”We're tired and hungry. We're lost and troubled souls just searching for refuge from this barren world. We saw that marvelous structure on the hill and the smoke from your fires and hoped you could provide shelter and food for us and our children."

 Without hesitation Clark said in reply, "Of course, please follow me. Our medical staff will see to your needs and we'll get you something to eat." One at a time, he picked up the two smallest children, twins that appeared to be no more than 4 or 5 years old, and placed them on his horse's back. "Now hold on little ones," he said with a smile. He motioned to the closest rider to lift the third child up with him. The women exchanged curious glances when the offer of a ride up the hill was not offered to any of them.

 As he led his horse by her reins back up the path to the main town, he asked Charlotte and the others a series of questions that on face value could be construed as innocent small talk. Where the women were from, exactly how old were the children, how had they happened to be traveling with no apparent belongings or means of camp or hunting? He purposely kept the tone light and didn't press when the answers didn't really match the questions asked. He purposely didn't ask about men. Although it was an obvious question, one that would surely have an imaginative response. He was an expert in these situations, that question would come only when he was already sure of the correct response. Clark had expected deflective and misleading replies; he was disappointed only in their generic falseness.

 Charlotte answered all of the questions. The other women appeared to be taking mental notes of everything they saw as they walked.

 "From the south..., (obviously true since that's the direction they had come through the dry marsh.) The twins, Bernie and Bernice were three and a half. (A lie, surely they we're older.) Their older brother Charlie there is twelve. (Also too low, could be a problem for him.) Their mother gone..., (didn't matter to Clark.) Our group was hijacked on the road. All our belongings taken or burned in front of us..., (they were taken, but by whom was still a mystery.) Our men and older boys were captured or killed outright by our attackers. (Interestingly she offered this information without being asked, Clark knew it was bullshit.)

 Passing through town, stone huts with grass or adobe roofs, they stopped at the great hall. With the exception of the Rook, it was the largest of their structures. Clark sent one of his men for the healer and another to have food brought in for their guests. He made a point to always refer to them as such. For now and until their true intentions were known, they were just guests. At least the adults were.

 Clark turned to Charlotte as he helped the little ones off the saddle, "please make yourselves comfortable, there are cots along the wall, he gestured to the far side of the hall. Rest, we'll have food and water here shortly."

 Rita arrived carrying her paisley satchel of medical equipment. She was followed closely by two younger women, her apprentices, both carrying smaller bags that matched the print pattern of her bag.

 Rita was buxom and the tallest of the woman in their village, almost six foot. Curvy but fit, all our people are in shape, Ellie saw to that. Dark red hair, freckled skin, and emerald green eyes, made her, at least in Clark's eyes, easily the most beautiful woman in their community, and for all that mattered to him, the entire world.

 He met her at the doorway and began explaining the situation to her, alternately nodding between the children and adults. Rita's expression changed following the direction of Clark's gaze, the children-motherly concern, the adults- a businesslike glare, as if eyeing a horse one was considering purchasing from a shady stranger.

 Rita turned her back on the visitors as she addressed Clark and her team, "bring the children over here," she turned her head slightly towards her assistants, "give the little ones well water, the older spring until we can test him." Rita touched Clark's shoulder as she leaned and whispered in his ear. His abdominals tightened, he felt goosebumps on his neck and an ever so slight stiffening of his cock as her warm sweet breath touched his ear. "Leave the adults where they are, just give them spring water." She stepped back and smiled, 'had she noticed?' he thought to himself. "Anything you need Rita, really anything, I'll do it for you."

 "I'm sure you would Clark." She said with a sly smile as she gave him a quick up-down glance with a slight linger on the down sweep. 'Damn, she did notice,' he thought as he felt the stiffening movement against his leg grow. He nodded with a sly smile of his own, and turned to get the twins and their brother before he needed to find something to carry in front of him to hide his excitement.

 Clark strode up to the visitors, a warm pleasant rubbing still lingering in his boxers, "Miss Charlotte," he said with a cheerful but firm tone," our healers will take a look at the youngsters first. You ladies can relax here until we're ready for you." He didn't give her time for a reply as Rita's two assistants ushered the children away towards the other side of the room. He turned to the attendants arriving with baskets of bread and fruit, "fetch a pitcher of cool spring water for our guests as they wait. Please ladies, sit and relax. Let's talk a bit more about your journey. It sounds to me like you're very fortunate to have stumbled upon our village."

Writing on a Blackberry

  I’ve been writing a novel on my mobile while commuting into NYC on a mass transit bus.

  It allows me to not have to deal with any of the pressures of work or home and gives me some time to myself and my imagination.

 I’ve shared some of the writing with friends and family but am not really sure if they are being honest with me about the story or the voice I’ve chosen. Some has been helpful; some just seems to be overly thought in the criticism.