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The Summoning – A Silly Short Story – Competition Winner!



Recently I entered a  writing competition  put on by a fellow writer over at her self-titled  blog  Ksenia Anske   She has a massive following with a growing collection of  self-published novels. She’s  a great writer. But don’t take my word for it. Check her out.

Anyways, I entered this contest on a whim and for a challenge. I didn’t expect to win really. But I said what the hell, it will be good for me. I need a kick in the ass every once in while to get me writing the way I should. So I entered. The criteria for the contest was to write a 800 -1000 Word story. And not just any story. It had to be funny and it hand to contain the following.   It had to have something do with magic and you had to reference five things:  a tutu, beer flavored lollipops, an elephant,  a Breathalyzer, a brick and a purse.   YES, no easy task in 1000 Words.

But I did it.  I entered and I won on top of that!  So please take a moment and read my short story below. Also check out the other competitors stories here as well.




The Summoning 



This was a fuckery of the highest magnitude as her grandmother used to say.  The demon was too damn powerful to hold it in the circle for much longer.

He (and I say he loosely because you never really know for sure) was wearing a fedora with a raven’s feather stuck into it. She saw two small horns sticking out through either side of the hat. Silk black pants and a red silk shirt, with oddly enough a small yellow smiley face button pinned to it that simply read “Shit Happens” finished his ensemble. And boy was he handsome. He smiled at them as he had been doing for the last thirty minutes not saying a word. She could feel him pushing at the boundaries of the trap that had been setup in their backyard, testing for a weakness and still sucking on that damn lollipop.

There were no weaknesses.

Susie, one of her other sisters in the coven, had done a beautiful job with the lawnmower. The cut patch of grass was a perfect cut circle with another design of a pentagram cut within and then traced with human blood (their own of course).  Other rune symbols ran near the inside perimeter of the circle and within the pentagram itself.  A weed-wacker and hedge clippers had been used for the smaller symbols.

I wondered idly what flavor lollipop the demon was sucking on.

“Margaret! Stop your day dreaming and shore up your point.”

“Yes, Mother,” Margaret said, looking over out across the circle at the woman she called Mother, who was not her truly her Mother at all.  Mother was naked as the day she was born wearing only a silver necklace which held at the end of it a ruby as red as blood which dangled between her breasts.  Margaret was naked as well, along with her three Sisters who all wore the very same necklace.  Each of them stood just outside at one of the five points where the Pentagram touched the circle.  Margaret bent her will through the red jewel.

“Much better daughter. Be diligent. No meandering of the mind if we are to…”

“Its beer flavored my dear.” the demon said, interrupting the Mother.  “Pabst Blue Ribbon I believe. I do so love a good beer lollipop at a summoning.” The demon turned a wicked smile at Margaret and she shivered. He can read my mind?

“Well of course my dear witch. I wouldn’t be much of an all powerful demon if I couldn’t, now would I? In fact I am getting stronger by the second. Isn’t that right Mother, you feel it don’t you?” the demon said, sneering and turning to her in the circle.

“Shut up, you vile thing…” she started to stay before she couldn’t say any more since she had suddenly turned into an elephant, a small elephant mind you, but still an elephant.  And wearing a yellow tutu with pink polka dots.  It actually looked rather flattering.

Her other sisters were aghast.  Dark short haired little Susie’s eyes went wide and looked ready to run and leave the circle.  The two tall blonde twins, Monica and Harmonica, were besides themselves, both wringing their hands in unison. Margaret had to take charge of the situation. It was up to her now. She was the eldest next to Mother in the circle.

“It’s just an illusion sisters, be strong.  Repeat the binding incantation, now.”  Margaret knew the spell itself would do nothing more than it already had, but it would distract the sisters and give them a focus for the real power behind it. It was all about the will. Always.

“Thrice inter orbis, reus subsido totus, malum pessum…”  they all began to chant together.

Which essentially meant get the hell back in your cage you evil piece of shit…more or less.

Mother suddenly popped back into view, gone was the small elephant and tutu. Margaret found herself missing the little elephant already; it had actually been an improvement as far as she was concerned.

“Thank you daughter for your strength, you others had best take lessons.”

Margaret couldn’t help but swell with a little bit of pride from the compliment. She was thinking being an elephant for a minute or two had taken the edge off her a bit.

“Oh, how I tire of this farce. Let’s be done already. And shut up already with that chanting.” The demon bemoaned, rolling his eyes with arms crossed.

Margaret suddenly found she couldn’t’ talk, as did her other sisters.  For they all had lollipops stuck in the mouths.  Beer flavored lollipops. They weren’t half bad actually.

“Mmm…mmm.”  Margaret tried to say to the demon.

“What’s that my dear I can’t quite hear you?” He smiled wickedly again.

Margaret spit out the lollipop. “Fuck you! By the way, I have something for you.” Margaret cleared her mind totally so the demon could not read it. She bent down and picked up her purse next to her feet.

“We have been saving this for just this moment.”

“What in the nine hells are you talking about witch!”

“Why this, my good handsome demon,” Margaret pulled from her purse a small white brick and held in front of her. “It’s a binding brick”, she said.

“Frances Sebastian Cavanaugh Cornelius Plumpkin, I command you to do our bidding.” with that she hurled the brick directly into the face of the demon hitting him squarely in his handsomely square jaw.

“You found my true name?” the demon whispered looking frightened for the first time.

“Yes Francis.” Margaret said as she smiled wickedly back.

Later that night the police left, being satisfied with the results from issuing all of them a breathalyzer test. It seemed a neighbor had called the cops, accusing them of being drunk and disorderly. They then pulled the oh-so-powerful demon out of the closet and got down to business to ask for some serious witch wishes.




By Philip Wardlow





I was entered



Kava Writers Collective – My Writing Group

Meet Kava Writers Collective!


Approximately a year ago I joined a writing group in my local area to better hone my skills as a writer and to feel not so alone in my desperation to want to be a writer….misery loves company…write? (I mean right?)

I kid actually…I think we all have potential in our own separate goals to want to be writers. Actually the founding member of the group, who goes by the  name of Susie,  who we all hail as the Supreme Dictator (I mean Leader) of the group was published  and is soon to be published again in March I believe on her second book and who is already hard at work on her third. She’s a powerhouse of wordum and knows her stuff…she’s definitely got the chops.

The group consists of nine people – of course people –  what did you think they were? Magical unicorns.  Shh….one actually could be….don’t tell him I said so though…we’re not to supposed to let on like we know.

Anyways, we meet every first and third Sunday of the month – weather permitting of course…dammit you  foul beast called snow that seeks to keep me from my destiny!

The group consists of five men and four women. It’s a pretty balanced group of individuals in the genre that they write to and in the way they may critique something you have written.  I love their feedback and think of them as invaluable coaches in editing and fixing what I can’t see that’s wrong sometimes with my writing.

In the last year, I feel I have grown under there honest feedback and response to my work. Besides that, they have inspired me to keep going at times when I get discouraged with setbacks that may happen in my own writing .

Their energy in their own work makes me want to push through, get the work done and be proud of a product that I can call my own.

How about you guys? Any of my followers or fellow bloggers belong to any writing groups or attend any workshops? If so, what do you get out of it?

Excerpt from my First Novel – “The Fourth World” – YA Genre Urban Fantasy

I will at times in the progress of my novel over  the next coming months release certain excerpts from it..Hopefully this will  I think frame the book in it’s  overall theme and message to you the reader and also give you a reason to come back for the entire story because maybe just maybe you might say to yourself hmmmm..I wanna read this book…I’m gonna check it out.

Here below is a small opener to my very first full length Novel entitled tentatively “The Fourth World” that I plan on finishing by – cross your fingers –  the end of June 2013. It will be a Young Adult Category Novel in the Urban Fantasy Genre.

Excerpt from “The Fourth World”  Working Title –

I have always believed in magic. I don’t care what you say. You can doubt all you want. There is a hidden world which we cannot see sitting right in front of our faces, most everyone is too busy, too blind, or too stupid to see it. I see it in the trees as the ethereal distance winds kiss the leaves as it flies through their branches. I spy it dancing in the fire amidst the embers at night; like little tiny sprites hopping from log to log amidst the flames playing a game of tag. I smell it in a wild rose in a crowded field of jostling weeds flinging its pheromones to attract the butterflies to alight on its silken petals. I hear it in the babbling brook as the water plays upon the rocks behind my home whispering to the frogs as it travels on downriver. I feel it in the rough stone I caress in the palm of my hand; an ancient power from ages past unearthed from the deep bowels of the earth from the crumbs of a mighty stone titan long dead. It is everywhere if you would only choose to see. The magic speaks to me because I choose to listen and I almost understand what it is saying

Chapter 1 – Reality Sets In

I tasted the blood that trickled down to my upper lip from my nose. It had a sweet metallic taste. I liked the taste of my blood. I am not a weird person don’t get me wrong, I’m not into to that kind of stuff.  I just like to sometimes pretend that I’m Conan the Barbarian and I’m backed up against the wall and that I’m fighting an angry horde of ghoulish creatures hell-bent on gutting me like a fish and eating my entrails as I watch. I have my sword hacking and slashing and limbs are flying and I’m scratched all to hell and I’m bleeding from a dozen different wounds and I’m smiling insanely because this could be my last day alive so why not go out smiling like a true warrior would upon meeting his death well met in battle. Yeah, I like to have my mind go to places like that when I would be rather be anywhere than where I am right now.

“Hold him down dammit he’s a squirmer! Fucking idiot, you see what he did to Carlos? He’s crazy man!” Carlos had it coming, I told myself as I lay on the ground struggling under two other boys who each probably outweighed me by a hundred pounds.  They wouldn’t have caught me if one of the bystanders hadn’t tripped me while I was trying to get away. Trying to get away, that’s all I ever do, until now.

I am not a violent person but I will admit it felt pretty good to see the plastic lunch tray connect solidly against the side of Carlos’s head and watch him go down in a daze, not to mention the stunned looks of his buddies who were now holding me down who put him up to flipping my lunch tray to the ground as I had walked by. It was classic man, just classic.

“What the hell are you smiling about you sick bastard. I am so gonna end you, just wait. I always knew you were a weird little fucker. That’s why you don’t have any friends.”

Aah, Jake the jerk off, as I like to call him, a man, or boy better yet, of not many words. I guess his Dad couldn’t buy him vocabulary to stuff inside that brain of his. I’m thinking his Dads more the type that likely bought’em a good weight set and a big box of protein bars cuz he was crushing the hell out of my left shoulder with his knees as I lay there on the ground.

“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled at them while my face was being pressed firmly into the dirt. I might as well have been yelling at the moon for all the good it did.  I was a punching bag to them. A distraction out of their boring day of the life they called school. I provided a service to them I guess. They needed a reason to feel special while they were here.  Everyone wants to feel special.

“Hey watch this Neil.” Jake said to the other kid that was holding me. It was amazing but Neil was actually more stupid than Jake was. I’m thinking the Smithsonian would have been really pleased to know a Neanderthal was still walking the earth. Neil had a prominent forehead, squashed face which held a dull look and knuckles that dragged the ground as he walked almost upright. He would have look great stuffed and mounted. It was a wonder he could tie his own shoes.  Oh wait, was that Velcro for laces instead? I had a pretty good view at his feet at this particular time so I had a moment to check them out.

“Whut?” Said Neil responding dumbly to him bent over next to my ear. Then I heard it, the long drawing in sound of phlegm back into the throat.

It landed with a splat on the top of my forehead and traveled like a river down into my right eye blinding me and causing me to lose it entirely. I thrashed and heaved and went into what I like to call my insane berserker barbarian rage. This had little effect but it did cause Jake to fall off from kneeling on my back which eased some of the pain I was feeling. I’ll take what I can get.

I realized in that instance, that the audiences that come to fighting events come to watch entirely for selfish reasons.  It is not to support the fighter; they want something out of it for all the money they plunked down. Apparently being stuck at school was the payment enough for all the other students just standing around watching my shame to unfold. They wanted to be entertained by my pain in some sick way, like the involuntary morbid thrill you get in watching a horror movie unfold knowing you feel bad for the victim, but not really because but what can you do?  They convinced themselves they are just a spectator to it all, that they are allowed to be insulated from it, please don’t ask for me to lend a hand they say, your crazy. I was just another pathetic soap opera to be talked about between their friends and family, to be kept at a distance and to not bog their day down. Their hand was on the dimmer switch that controlled the light of my life into theirs and they could choose to let in however much they thought they could take. Right now all those hands on all those switches were set to full off. I think I hated them more in that instance than the ones who picked on me on a daily basis.

“Break it up! Break it up!”  A loud high screeching of a woman’s voice cut through the chaos that was my crazed mind and through the crowd of onlookers as well. Mrs. Kitchen, a teacher and woman of enormous proportions waddled over her way through the ring of kids surrounding us to see what had caught everyone’s attention. I heard her gasp out aloud so theatrically when she came upon the scene that I almost laughed out loud.

Jake and Neil quickly let me go to show her they weren’t just trying to shove my head into the dirt and make me eat it.  I saw the crowd starting to disperse around me, the bloodshed was over; be about your way miscreants.

I slowly got up from the ground and wiped the spit and grass clippings from my face with the sleeve of my shirt.

“Would someone like to tell me what’s going on? I found Carlos back there picking himself off the ground and now I find Calvin doing pretty much the same thing over here. What’s going on?” Her voice went to a higher octave on the shrill level factor if that was possible and she put her hands on her very wide hips, tapping her foot impatiently expecting an answer. Yep, she was your typical stereotype, they do exist.

“He hit Carlos for no reason.” Neil said pointing at me like he was fingering me like some criminal in a line up.  Neil just kept quiet.

“Is this true Calvin?”  She asked.

“Yes and no,” I said, “Yes, I hit him, but I wouldn’t say it was for no reason. He had it coming, they like to provoke me.” I said and be damned with the consequences I was done caring anymore.

“Let’s see what Mr. Granderson has to say about all this. Let’s go.” She marched us into the school’s office area where we sat and waited while all the parents were called.

More Excerpts to come…