Stepping Into The Picture

flash fiction

The picture hung over the mantel in the den – it had been there ever since I can remember. The old house, the wrought iron fence, and the smiling pumpkins.  I had always been fascinated by those pumpkins – they seemed to hold some kind of energy of their own. That night I just sat there, gazing at the picture, mesmerized by it. I felt a very strong pull to step right into it – so I did. There I am – gently flying through the sky. There may come a day when I want out – but I am not sure that is possible. So Be It.

(c) October 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission from the author.

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Trick-Or-Treat

trick+or+treat21

Good thing I am short – in this ghost costume, I can pass for a kid. Also a good thing that this neighborhood encourages door-to-door trick-or-treating. I attached myself to a couple of groups of kids earlier this evening, just so I wouldn’t stand out in any way.  Then I faded into the shadows, waiting for the trick-or-treaters to thin out. Now is a good time. She has been giving out the treats all evening, so I know she will answer the door. One shot and she is dead. One shot, and she is no longer my problem.

(c) October 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission of the author.

Black Cats & Halloween

flash fiction

This is my time of the year. I am a Black Cat, and this is when I rule. Okay, I will tell you how this came about. You what??? You thought I was only connected with witches? Who told you that? I have never worked with a witch in any of my lives. Well, almost, once, but not really. I am actually a symbol of good luck. I blame the bad rap for black cats on the pilgrims. They are the ones that associated black cats with witches, and we know how they felt about witches! Put that out of your mind, and think about Egypt. Black cats were actually worshiped in Egypt. That is where my lineage is! You may pet me now.

(c) October 2018 Bonnie Cehovet

Reproduction prohibited without written permission from the author.

The Storyteller

flash fiction

Excuse me … you want me to tell you my story? Perhaps I should hear yours first. Oh, it’s my turn? I wasn’t aware that we were taking turns. Which story should I tell you … I have so many! No, we don’t ever have just one story. We have levels of story, so that we only have to share that which we wish to share. Like you, I came through the Earth Gateway. I am here to be a record keeper. I am the gatekeeper to the records room, making sure that the records are only accessed by those that are meant to see them.

(c) September 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission from the author.

Life Unfolding

flash fiction

Oddly enough, the sound of the waves breaking on the boulder strewn shore had a soothing effect on me. The anger of the waves being dissipated  on the rocks represented a form of release, something that I certainly needed to do in my life. Things had been building up for a long time – boundaries were flagrantly being crossed, and I was being pushed off my path. I give thanks to the angry water around me – I now know what I have to do. Many people will not believe me, many will fight me. Game on, world!

(c) September 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission of the author.

The Other Side Of the Door

flash fiction

We do it all the time – walk up to the door, open the door, and walk through it. Sometimes we know what is on the other side, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes the door is real, other times it is a metaphore. Which is safer – that which is real, or that which is a metaphore? Are we always assured that we can come back through that door? Do doors expand our universes, or contract them? I will tell you a secret that I have learned over time – we have the ability to create our own doors, and the ability to manifest what we want on the other side!

(c) September 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without the written consent of the author.

Wind Chimes

Flash Fiction

Is it true that one can read between the lines? That one can hear between the notes? That the spaces between things are our friends? The wind chimes outside my window affect me that way.  I get lost between the sounds … going deeper and deeper into a world of my own. A total “out of body” experience. Is this space my friend? Is this somewhere that I want to be? It is, in that I heal there. The problem is, that in that healing, I don’t want to leave. One day, I may make the concious choice to stay there.

(c) September 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission from the author,