My collection of free short stories. Because nothing else in life is free.

Archive for February, 2012

The Monolith – L. Vera’s Newest Serial Fiction

picture taken by: Robert Badescu



Applicants chosen to enter the monolith:

Kaitlyn (Codename: Freckles)

Brandi (Codename: Glasses)

Gabriel (Codename: Raven)

Katrina (Codename: Hazel)

Park (Codename: Lotus)

Paul: (Codename: Ice)

George (Codename: Snake)

Marina (Codename: Fire)

Mendy (Codename: Ghost)

Jack (Codename: Marsh)

Katie (Codeman: Water)

William (Codename: Yellow)

Brennan (Codename: Flyer)

Sarah (Codename: Blue)

Connie (Codename: Smiles)

Tegan (Codename: Bubbles)

Lawrence (Codename: Shorts)

Elizabeth (Codename: Earth)

Martin: (Codename: Genesis)

Gloria: (Codename: Rebel)

Steve: (Codename: The Key)

Simone: (Codename: Frenzy)

Nina: (Codename: Bones)

Sawyer: (Codename: Stone)

Jade: (Codename: Space)

Lexy: (Codename: Green)

Robin: (Codename: Tundra)

Follow The Monolith Inc. here


Mushrooms – The Final Piece

Author’s notes: This is a serial fiction about kidnapped children who live like mushrooms in a child rapist’s basement. Please start reading at Piece 1 if you are new to this serial fiction, found here

Ryan had seen life leave through a person’s eye. He had captured it many times in his paintings. There was George who was punched repeatedly until he died. There was a girl named Yasmine or could have been Jasmine. She died only after three days. Uncle John grew tired of her screaming and didn’t want to waste capturing it on canvas, so he taped her up and cut her open from the bottom of her stomach up to the center of her breast while he raped her.

The closet held the shattered kids faces immortalized on stretched linen coated with gesso.

Ryan ran as fast as his trembling feet could take him. He held the ring of keys in his hand and opened the cage. The girl pushed him aside and she ran for her life. Ryan tried to yell at the girl but the words weren’t his. They belonged to a child who couldn’t talk. He tried to spit the words out of his dry mouth but it sounded like someone who had swallowed his tongue. He slowly found himself crawling up the steps and into the kitchen where daylight had pressed through the open front door.

He regained his balance as he pulled himself up using a wooden chair by the kitchen table and hobbled into the bedroom where Sam lied. She had died crushed by the weight of a horrible man who raped his way to happiness.

Ryan opened the closet door and there, his paintings of dead children hung. He walked into it with the strength he never knew he had, past the pictures of tortured souls. He could feel them staring at him, blaming him for their deaths. Their gagged mouths, their bleeding bodies and their tears all whispered the same blaming words.

At the end of the long walk-in closet was a picture frame. He had known it existed and thought countlessly about it’s location. He just knew it had moved here and he was right.

He held it in his hands and stared at the picture of his mother and father holding hands posing for the camera. They were visiting a theme park and Ryan looked so happy with a stuffed cat as big as his body and a large ICEE in his other hand. His face was stained with the red color of the drink’s dye. His Uncle was with them. His thumb snuck into the corner of the picture. It was Uncle John’s way of saying he was in the picture even though he wasn’t asked to be in it.

Monsters In My Room – Flash Fiction

The monster under my bed hates the monster in my closet. If they kill each other, I’ll just have to worry about the monsters in my head.

Mushrooms – Piece 12

Author’s notes: This is a serial fiction about kidnapped children who live like mushrooms in a child rapist’s basement. Please start reading at Piece 1 if you are new to this serial fiction, found here

Ryan had already explained to Sam how she would die and now she was living the horrid details. It first started with the illusion of leaving.

Uncle John had presented Jolene to the two kids that lived in the basement. Ryan sat with his many supplies in a little suitcase as Uncle John had helped Sam with her stuff.

She tried to make eye contact with Ryan but he never looked up into her eyes. She had convinced the boy that she loved him and had earned the privilege of knowing what would happen to her.

Ryan carried the supplies upstairs as Uncle John held Sam’s hand. They walked up the stairs and into the kitchen. The room was cold and well lit. It was a very bright room and smelled like the inside of a container of dish soap. Ryan had always thought it was quite weird how a man who seemed so gross could live in such a clean house. Near the table he could see the tiny hole that sent light into the dark basement and he somehow stopped in his tracks.

“Ryan!” Uncle John yelled. “Come on.”

He snapped out of his daze and move with him through the hall. Uncle John and Sam had entered the room ahead of him and had already begun removing their clothes. Sam was pale and weak, but seeing her naked body had aroused Ryan. He didn’t know what to do, he was embarrassed, yet Uncle John had noticed him stalling in the hallway and grabbed him. He pulled the boy into the bedroom where he sat on a chair and placed a freshly stretched canvas onto his easel.

When he turned around he could see Uncle John forcing himself into Sam. She laid quiet, she seemed like she was already dead. Uncle John turned to him and screamed, “Paint!”

But he couldn’t. He stared at the two as Uncle John had began to strangle the girl. She tried to stop him but she was weak.

Ryan had a brush in his hand. The end had been sharpened. He knew he didn’t do it. He didn’t have the guts to even try. Sam had created the key to their survival and with it he walked over to the bed.

He lifted it high in the air and placed it between the last neck flexor of the spinal cord where the shoulders meet the neck. Uncle John fell forward and onto Sam.

He noticed in those two seconds that she had already seemed dead. Her eyes were gray with death but instantly as Uncle John’s grasp opened, her eyes fluttered with life and then pain filled her as Uncle John’s three hundred pound body slowly fell on top of here like a slow toppling domino.

Next: Finale

Triberr – It’s easier then it looks to get started.

I joined triberr and was confused almost right away. I can tell how many others instantly got in the same boat. Once you figure out what to do, it’s an awesome website; it has already done such a wonderful job getting people to this blog.

First let’s talk a little bit about Triberr and why you should be on it.

Triberr: Extending my blog’s blade.

Triberr is a website that pools people into a group for one purpose – tweeting the group’s blog post. Usually if I tweet my blog on twitter I get 5-6 views, which at the time sounded pretty high. Now with Triberr, the same link gets tweeted by 7-10 other people resulting in 80 views. The first day I saw this, I was incredibly impressed. The only other time I had that many visitor’s was when I was investigating art theft, but that’s another blog post.

Triberr is great a great concept to getting more readers and followers. Oh, and for you Klout fans out there, the first week you start this you will see an amazing spike in your klout score.

I also suggest getting an invite first, since it’s free to join a tribe this way. Otherwise you have to use your fictional “bones”(the currency of Triberr) to join tribes and they can disappear quickly. If you want to create you’re own tribe, you need every bone to invite people within the Triberr community. Just send me a DM on twitter and I’ll send you an invite. Don’t just make an account and try to figure things oiut. Be patient and someone will invite you and hopefully show you the ropes.

Getting Started: The easy way.

Triberr has lots of tutorials on getting started. I think they know some people find it daunting at first glance and have tried to help them ease the pain, but have not succeeded. I googled how to get started and found a very helpful guide but the problem was, I didn’t know where to get the information. These are the two thing you need to setup: your rss feed and your twitter account.

Here’s one way to get your rss feed link:
1) Open your homepage on your blog in a window or tab.
2) Go to view (both on MAC and PC) on your toolbar above and then look for “Source” or “Page Source” option. On a Mac go to View > Developer > View Source .
3) A window with html should come up and then after your search for “rss”, you’ll find this ( link rel=”alternate” type=”application/rss+xml” title=”lverawrites » Feed” href=”” )
4) is my RSS feed.

Another easy way:
If you use one of these blogging website:
wordpress: or

You can test this out by manually importing you RSS feed on Triberr.
1) Log on to Triberr
2) Click on your icon on the top right and go to your settings.
3) Then click on your blog settings. You should see this.

4) Click on Manually Import and it will import all your post into Triberr. If you are also impatient, this will push the post into your stream faster.

Setting up twitter: Let’s tweet this Blog.

If you look at the same picture above you’ll notice right above Blog Settings is Twitter Settings. Just add your twitter handle and password and your done. This is a lot easier then setting up your rss feed and I think that’s where many people give up at.

Now we are ready to rock Triberr.

Let’s tear this place apart.

Join a tribe. Mine’s called Madmen / Madwomen and I’m looking for bloggers in the more creative, darker and unusual blogsphere. Of course if you still want to join my tribe just remember we may post adult type content, but you always have the choice to not tweet it.

Make your own tribe and invite people you think will help you out. It’s exciting to see people actually visitng your blog regularly and many times you just need a little boost. Thanks Triberr.

So that’s Triberr in a nutshell and hopefully it should get you on your way. Please feel free to ask me any questions. I try to respond to everyone everywhere. 🙂

– L. Vera

The Last Flower – Flash Fiction

I picked the flower out of the ground. It was the last of its kind and soon, much like the flower, I will be plucked from this earth.

Mushrooms – Piece 11

Author’s notes: This is a serial fiction about kidnapped children who live like mushrooms in a child rapist’s basement. Please start reading at Piece 1 if you are new to this serial fiction, found here

Life in a basement is horrible. With the lack of light and the already apparent dark, evil – shit, its just plain shit – energy, it left your body frail and pale. Uncle John did feed his captives, but they were lucky to get two meals a day. Usually a single meal consisted of cheap burgers and a handful of fries he had picked up picked up for himself but didn’t finish. Ryan had already grown weak and his body began to hurt in places he never imagined would hurt. It was if his organs wanted to give it, wanted him to die. He bleed from two different wounds, both from the day before but he was alive.

Sam smiled while painting crooked shapes, with all the best supplies Ryan had earned. He watched but he just wanted sleep to grip him at his neck so he could escape this reality.

Uncle John had returned for the day with their daily meal – fried chicken on the most flimsiest of paper plates. The grease had almost torn a hole in Ryan’s plate. His stomach hurt and as he twisted a drumstick to bite it he noticed someone had already beat him to it. There was no plate for Sam. Instead, she was taken upstairs to the kitchen where we could see her shadow cover the little bit of light that shined through the crack in the floor.

He could hear the quiet. The silence that plagued the room upstairs. It disappeared and was replaced by moaning and the rocking of the kitchen table. The porcelain plates danced and then they shattered on the floor and as if nothing happened, the table began to bang against the floor.

Three weeks. It took three weeks for Uncle John to become tired of her. The excitement was sublime for Ryan. He smiled in the dark as she was escorted down the stairs with a large red hand print on her face. A little drop of blood trailed down the side of her lips and as she was escorted back into her cage. Uncle John had pulled Ryan out of his cage and whispered into his ear.

Ryan looked at the girl who had changed considerably through the weeks, growing weak through the abuse. He didn’t realized that he had grown even weaker than her. When Uncle John left he dug through his paints and brushes and had found many bristles destroyed, overused and dirty. He let Uncle John know when he returned with more food that he needed better supplies if he wished for Ryan to prepare for her departure.

Uncle John had noticed Ryan’s disgusting presence. He resembled an old man who had been a zombie for two long. He was skeletal and ghost like and that disgusted Uncle John.

Sam sat quietly watching. Ryan could have sworn the words “I love you,” darted through the air towards Uncle John but either he didn’t listen or didn’t care.

Ryan waited three days for more supplies and he had already begun a new mural. Sam tried to talk to him, but he ignored her. She would be dead soon and he would witness it.

Uncle John didn’t take any of the two upstairs because he had already found a new captive to live with them her name was Jolene. Ryan liked Jolene. Sam now knew that she was going to die. Ryan had warned her that all this would happen.

Next: Piece 12