Archive for August 2012


The below story is fiction. It is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, based on a story prompt provided by Madison Woods.



She watched from her 15th floor veranda overlooking Toronto’s skyline.

Beautiful formation. Now, If only they would disappear. Come on, sun!

Relaxed on a chaise lounge with her wine she fell asleep.

Strong winds awakened her, hours later. A dark ominous cloud moved in.

Gathering strength, moving across the city, foreboding.

Suddenly, the view did not matter anymore.

Sirens, bullhorns blared warnings, now too late for her.

A tornado approached. She stood, mesmerized as it roared, racing towards her.

The monster’s black swirling tail stretched forth its tentacles. Swooping her up, sucking her in, it carried her away.


Posted August 29, 2012 by Joyce in Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction, Writing



Way back when I was young, and in school there was once

A time when I couldn’t ‘download’ or ‘install’.

My brain would not ‘process’, and I felt like a dunce.

I needed a tutor, but who could I call?

I suffered through ‘overload’, a ‘surge’, and a ‘crash’,

Didn’t ‘click’, or ‘hook’ on to every ‘program’ taught.

There was always the ‘geek’ who caught on in a flash

They could ‘update’ and ‘process’ every ‘dot’ and ‘dash’.

To be like him, or her I needed to ‘upgrade’.

But how to get my brain to ‘compute’,

‘Protect and secure,’ every ‘password’ and ‘name’,

And ‘send’ and ‘mail’ it all back to my brain

Where it would stay ‘saved’, ‘backed up’, and remain

Forever in ‘memory’ with no loss, stress or strain.

Joyce E. Johnson

The above poem was submitted to Reason 2 Rhyme using a Monday word prompt


Posted August 27, 2012 by Joyce in Poems, Secular poetry, Writing

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“Distorted Reflection.”

The below story is short fiction. It is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story from the photo prompt provided. It has been a fun writing exercise each week and has helped me improve in areas where needed. As I have said before, the art and craft of writing is an ongoing work in progress and I keep at it, good or bad.  For writers and readers of my blog site, I want to say and emphasize that my fiction stories (long or short) are only fiction, and are not ‘Reflections’, true stories or illustrations, or related to experiences in my life, or anyone else’s life whom I may know. They are never intended to poke fun at someone, or criticize one who may be in a similar situation and is merely a coincidence if my characters or stories find a sensitive nerve in one who reads them. I sometimes create characters for my stories completely different from myself or anyone else, but give them real life situations, or scenarios in their lives where they might experience these things, and will be faced with decisions or choices that could affect their lives, and will wonder just how they might deal or cope with these experiences as they happen. It is interesting that sometimes a story I have written or a non-fiction post I have put up will somehow bring a variety of readers to the site with differing views and opinions. I value the input from all. I sometimes will use the male gender in my stories and in a first person POV (Point of View), or in third person. Feedback and comments on my fiction or even my non-fiction posts are always welcomed as I learn from them and work at improving my writing skills. Thank you fellow writers, bloggers and Friday Fictioneers’ contributors for all the great comments, feedback you have offered and compliments. I appreciate all.      


Distorted reflection? Over exposure? Whatever it was. The image was me.

They sent me to school, paid my way.

They warned me once, “Son, work hard. Stay focused. The world lies just beyond your telephoto lens.”

I didn’t listen, didn’t care, made new friends, had a good time. I drank too much, studied too little, hung with kids who knew how to party. I just went along.

My captured images, sights and shots of places visited, famous and found should have filled the pages of National Geographic. I was their protégé.

But, no more.

I lay here drunk, homeless, unemployed.


Posted August 22, 2012 by Joyce in Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction, Writing

Friday Fictioneers 100 word story for August 17, – “Oscar”

Grandpa told the story.

“We’d play near the bull pen. Oscar was the meanest old bull, with big horns on its head. A storm came up spooking ole Oscar. He come charging across the pasture, broke through the fence, then ran towards us. Well, we ran hard too, and climbed that old crooked tree, barely clearing the trunk. Oscar charged up as if he was part cat getting its head and horns stuck. Pa had to shoot the poor critter, for it’d broken its neck. Big black eyes stared up at us. Oscar was good eatin for a long time.”

The influence of a word, vs. the Power in a Name

The influence of a word, vs. the Power in a Name

The new Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary updated version with the addition of words and phrases commonly used now will not surprise a lot of people who use these words and phrases. It may in fact delight them, knowing that their verbal use and communication of these words will no longer be censored or edited. But, for others however who do not use such words as the ‘F-bomb’ word (one of those included in the updated version) in their daily vocabulary it will come as a shock to others to learn that it is now considered acceptable, approved language.

The ‘F-bomb’ and S____ words, once considered by some to be ‘vulgar’ language used by those who swore with them, and by them literally seemed to have no other preference. They are now not surprisingly popular words by choice, and becoming as common as its one time counterpart, ‘crap.’ But, they will probably now not be edited from PG-13 movies. In fact, some PG-13 movies are becoming far more lax and loose in their content, both in graphic scenes as well as language and dialogue. These new word and phrase additions to the dictionary continue to fill space and dialogue in movie scripts and published fiction, where a writer likely knew no better substitute word to use than those he or she used in real life. Thus, the F-bomb word and the S___ word worked for them, and producers, directors, and publishers were OK with it. Now, these words are finding common ground on social networks like Facebook, Twitter and web blogs.

But, they are not the words of choice for Christians, or those who tire from seeing, hearing, or reading these words in scripts, movies and books. One might say to someone in reply, “Well, if you don’t like it, go find another movie, or book where you don’t hear it, or read it”. OK. That’s understandable, except that if those words are no longer being censored, and are now acceptable to use in the English language and on movie screens, television shows and scripts, one will most likely not find a ‘Warning: language, dialogue, and graphic sexual content,’ at the bottom, informing the viewer, or reader to be alert to its contents. The chosen and now ‘acceptable’ form of protected rights for certain kinds lifestyles will not now, or ever forge a nation back to the way it once was if God’s name, and that of Jesus Christ’s is used as a swear word along with the new additional words to our most widely used English dictionary. When our country was founded God’s name and his son, Jesus’s name were used only with reference and respect as the One to direct us and our county to greatness and strength, leading by example for other nations and leaders to emulate our commitment to the God in whom we placed our trust.

My God, and my savior, Jesus Christ who allows us all a choice in how to live, what to say, and how to say what we want to say is never going to spit degrading obscenities to us, because He loves us so much it is not His style, nor His way to do that. Someone who loves us just a fraction of that much is not going to swear at us, defame us or cause us shame, or embarrassment. But, He is my lifeline, my defense, my protection, my redeemer, my Father and I need none other to live by. So, I use not His name to swear by, but to declare it the name I offer up praise to, and it is the name I speak and cry out to when I need His help, His direction, His unconditional love and His forgiveness.

The enclosed verses in the New Testament remind me of the Power in the Name of Jesus.

Philippians 2: 9-11. “And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death-even death on a cross. Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord., to the glory of God the Father.” NIV


Posted August 14, 2012 by Joyce in Devotional, Faith, Writing

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Friday Fictioneers, August 10, – Seashells

The below story is short fiction. It is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story from the photo prompt, provided by Madison Woods.



My bare feet welcomed the cool, soft sand. It was shallow here, the water transparent. Like my heart.

We’d walk the shoreline together carrying plastic bags, looking for seashells, my husband and I.

I walked alone this morning, clutching his urn to my chest, reminiscing.

Forty five years we had together. We built our castle on the sand here, before the surf washed it out to sea, and cancer claimed his life.

I picked up an oyster shell. Like arms spread open, empty of its contents, its sides remained attached.

I opened mine, emptying his ashes into the sea.


Posted August 9, 2012 by Joyce in Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction, Writing

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Friday Fictioneers, August 3, – The Orchard


“Mom, Skippy is sick.”

“Come here, Skippy. Let’s see.”

Skippy whimpered and whined, lifting his paw to scratch at his eyes releasing a discharge. Saliva spilled from his mouth. His muzzle was warm, sweaty.

“Something’s wrong with him. I’m calling the vet. He may be infected with something. Where have you both been today?”

“At the old orchards. There is something rotten, funny looking growing over there. Skippy stepped in the stuff, then licked his paws.”


“There.” He pointed.

Flies buzzed around the biochemical waste site, rotting vines oozing a porous, bubbling mutating slime, consuming, spreading its deadly disease.



Posted August 2, 2012 by Joyce in Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction

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