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Inky Spells by Lisa Barry

For my dear friend, Court – May we ever be pleasantly surprised. Heart you.

“There were too many pens to choose from…”

“So, you didn’t get any? How am I supposed to write down the spell without a pen?” Dan asked.

Lorna’s shoulders shrunk lower. “A pencil?” she smiled hopefully, being about the size of his hand, it was a little hard to tell.

“Do you have a pencil?”

Pressing her lips together, Lorna shook her head. Her purple hair floated around her head like candy corn. Dan wanted to be angry, but he only had to look once at Lorna’s small, stooped figure as she stood on his worktable, a miserable expression on her face and it was basically impossible to exert any anger. Instead he went to his desk for the third time and rummaged for some utensil, any utensil to write with. As he came up empty handed as expected, he glanced at the clock.

There were only 45 minutes left. He stared out the window as his mind contorted thought in such a way that a solution was not evident.

He glanced Lorna once before and thought of a leaf.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. Lorna’s head whipped up. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this an hour ago!” Dan grabbed something from the counter and rushed out to the back yard. He ran straight toward the black raspberry bush in the far corner.

A slam to his face and knees brought Dan hard to the ground. The containment spell had gotten smaller. Lorna twitted around his face, calling out frantically, her wings buzzing noisily. Dan waved a hand feebly. It held a small plastic bag.

“I’m ok. Fill this with the raspberries.” Lorna grabbed the bag and zipped away. Dan waited for the ache in his knees to subside before pulling himself up again. His nose throbbed, and he wondered if it was broken.

A blur near the raspberry bush, Lorna filled the bag quickly. She dragged it along the ground, it being too heavy for her to lift, and once she was through the invisible line that held Dan back, he lifted it and blew her a kiss.

“As promised, once this spell is broken, I will build you the best pixie house you have ever seen!”

A delighted squeak made Dan chuckle. If Lorna hadn’t come around that morning, Dan would have been perished in the ever-shrinking containment spell.

Back at his workshop, he hurried to make the ink need to create a banishment spell to counter his hidden prison. With just moments to spare, he finished the last flourish with the quill pen. The parchment sat, his calligraphy a beautiful deep purple. He looked at Lorna. She sat on the edge of a pot filled with daisies. Her hair had settled over her in thick waves. She must have felt his intention as her eyes glanced up, a sparkling gold. She gave him a meek smile.

A perfume of raspberry took over his senses. The ink on the parchment was smoking. Dan smiled at Lorna. “It’s working,” he whispered as though afraid of scaring the spell to sleep. Lorna buzzed into the air and silently clapped her hands.

When the last of the ink had vanished from the page, Dan felt a strange bout of dizziness. His body ached everywhere but his back seemed to be the most pained. The room twisted along with his stomach. He grabbed the counter and held on until the feeling passed. Then he went outside. He expected the force field to be gone. He expected to be able to continue life as usual, but things never seemed to work out that way.

Dan blinked as he looked around. He’d always been a decent wizard, maybe not the best but certainly not the worst. Today he was definitely on the lower rung. The trees were so high, he couldn’t see where they ended. The flowers were so big he could use them as umbrellas. A glint of white sparkled in his peripheral and he was pretty sure he had wings.

Motion pulled his attention to the right. He was rewarded with the most breathtaking face he’d ever seen. Perfect lavender skin, bright golden eyes and a glorious smile. And she was his size.

Lorna took his hand and Dan forgot about this new world, his new size and especially, Dan forgot about too many pens.


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Why It Had Begun by Lisa Barry

For Shelley Martin; enjoy.

 By the time it ended she would understand why it had begun.

Marla blinked at the fortune teller and turned to her friend. Becky was big eyed and nodding in agreement with the fortune teller like she had understood his cryptic telling.

“What a crock of shit,” Marla commented and stood. “You may believe it, but I know better.”

She walked out of the tent and met the dusk with a glare. So much of the day had been wasted at this stupid carnival on her sweet 16th. She looked around for her boyfriend. He’d said he was going to try to win her a prize. She was thinking about making her sweet 16th very sweet and invite him to visit her room later. It would be an amazing top off to this oddball day. Her own parents had left for a bowling tournament in the next town and forgotten her special day. The devil-may-care attitude could sometimes get old. At least she got to take dad’s car. Becky came out of the tent just as Marla spotted Chris.

“That was very rude,” she said but when she saw the look on Marla’s face she paused and turned her head.

Chris was leaning against the seven mirror maze. He was embracing a petite blonde. Becky winced when she saw that it was the kind of embrace you don’t want to see your boyfriend having unless you were having an out of body experience and watching yourself.

Becky turned to console Marla but stopped with her hand out-reached. The blood had faded from Marla’s face and she stood, stony faced and emotionless. Her fisted hands gave away the stark anger that seemed to pulse from her.

A strange wind started up, dusting the dirt up at their feet at first and then whipping through their hair. The haunting carnival music stopped abruptly. A few pieces of hail hit the blonde in the head and she startled away from Chris. He threw an arm over her and looked around a bit frantically.

The wind continued, pulling itself into funnel and sucking up debris only to shoot it up and out. The ground shook in waves.

Becky giggled with glee. Marla’s lips quirked slightly, but she pulled her frown back and squeezed her fists tighter.

People were starting to scream and run around. The seven mirror maze shook, the sound of breaking glass echoing the wind’s roar. Marla yelled and flung out a hand. The maze broke apart and swept Chris and the blonde in before closing back up, pulling in the wind behind them with a whoosh.

Marla let out a contented sigh. Becky giggled again. The music started back up.

“Feel like joining me downstairs to mete out some vengeance?” Marla asked Becky.

Becky nodded but spoke up for the blonde, “she probably didn’t know you existed, ya know.”

Marla shrugged, “By the time this ends, she’ll understand why it begun.”

Becky giggled again. “See? Some of those guys really know how to tell a fortune.”

Marla rolled her eyes before sinking downstairs.

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Of Course Not, Silly by Lisa Barry

From Sandy Bibeau:

In the middle of the night, in the foggy moonlight, the gargoyle jumped out from behind the crooked tree.

Melinda sang as she pranced around the room.

“You’re not supposed to tell anyone,” Shawn muttered. His sister’s face scrunched in protest and her tongue shot out as far as it could reach. He huffed and looked back at the old book.

“It says here that no one really thinks they’re real which is why they can get around so easily and sneakily.”

Melinda stopped and knelt next to Shawn. “I know they’re real,” she whispered.

“You think unicorns are real,” he scoffed. Melinda’s big brown eyes widened.

“You don’t?” she asked.

“Of course not, silly,” Shawn said and closed the book quickly. He stood. “Come on, it’s time for bed.”

“I am six years old. I don’t need you to put me to bed.”

Shawn sighed. “I know but mom asked, so…” He shrugged and started to close the blinds. Melinda pouted as she took a last stare out into the darkness. She climbed into bed and waited for Shawn to flip the switch and leave her alone.

He flipped the switch. The door latched close.

“You know nothing, Shawn Smith,” Melinda whispered into the darkness.

She waited before his steps on the stairs faded away.

Slinking off her bed, she went to her closet and opened the door. A soft glow emanated from the corner. Pushing passed stuffed animals and dolls, she sat next to the small gargoyle lounging with a book open before him.

“The unicorn won’t be able to visit us today,” she said to him. He blinked and a soft growl emanated from his chest.

“I know,” she ran a finger over the cat painted on the page. “He closed the blinds, and I haven’t figured out how to open them yet.”

The gargoyle huffed and snuggled into her as Melinda started to tell a story, oblivious to the meaningless words on the book’s pages.



By Lisa Barry

4 August 2016



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It Can’t Be by Lisa Barry

From Spencer –

OH GOD. No. It can’t be. I’m HUMAN!

Moorh thought.

Watching the blood dribble from the hole on the human arm at his side, Moorh’s mind raced. The pain hit as he searched his memory, the sensation running through his nerves and to his brain letting him know the extent of the injury.

He slumped into a chair and covered the hole with his working hand. His mind screamed at him while he surveyed his surroundings and tried to take back some semblance of normalcy.

It seemed he was in a doctors waiting room. All the walls were white. There was a typical beach scene framed on one wall above a row of simple chairs of which one he was sitting in. Another wall held a rack of pamphlets and yet another held a window looking into the reception area and a small door. The last wall was a double door entrance. Moorh stood and headed toward the doors.

“Mr. Stodgant?” A pleasant voice called. Moorh turned to see a beautiful yet human nurse standing at the reception door. She smiled. “I think you might want to get dressed before heading back to the office.”

Moorh glanced down and his lip curled in disgust. His skin was a soft white color, not the bright blue he was accustomed to. Gone was his leather breast plate and dagger, his kilt and boots. Instead, a soft, weak body, held his mind. An anguished noise escaped a mouth he’d never used before.

The nurse came near, reaching for his arm. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stodgant. It happens sometimes that the simulator is so real, people can have a hard time coming back to the real world. Why don’t you come with me and I can show you your things and fix up your nervous system patch-in? It seems you ripped out the cable.”

Moorh paused and looked around again. He had known it was a doctor’s office hadn’t he? He lifted a hand, his face a grimace as he viewed the lines in the skin and the veins buried within. He glanced back at the nurse just as a deep stabbing sensation cut into the side of his head.

His hand found the wall and he hunched in pain against it, head lowered to his chest.

“Oh, dear, sweetie. Let’s get you to the back, I think you may be having some post-simulation difficulty.” He felt a hand on his arm but it was coarse and firm.

Lifting his head, he could barely make her out through the agony. One of her hands was near his head and the other on his arm. Her skin was more yellow than white. Her head larger than it should be.


Moorh bent to hide his emotion. He blinked trying to clear his head. His feet were blue again, wrapped in leather boots. Then white with odd looking shoes.

“Which?” he whispered.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll take good care of you.”

Moorh moved, a heavy hand to her head. The snap gave him no pleasure but the pain in his head subsided when she slumped to the floor.

He slumped to the floor and breathed in several long heaves before squinting around.

A bulbous canary skinned fellow stood in the doorway.

“Bravo,” the creature said and clapped mildly, “such a lovely game.” Moorh stood slowly and reformed his hand into a mallet.

“I don’t like games,” he snarled and lunged.

By Lisa Barry 04 August 2016

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Fire Doomed by Lisa Barry

For Erica Allbee, my fiery redheaded friend…

The fire burned hot.  So hot I felt it singeing the depths of my lungs with every breath I tried to draw in.

I hugged the blanket closer, pulling it over my entire head as I pushed myself farther into the room finally hitting the wall. My hope drizzled from me, saturating the tears that leaked from my closed stinging eyes.

The fire licked the doorway of the small room as I huddled in the corner. I felt it then. The headiness, my weakened heart. My breath was so shallow now I knew if my eyes were open they wouldn’t see clearly.  It was no different than drowning really. Suffocation feels the same anywhere I guessed. It was the heat that made this worse.

I hadn’t really thought about how I would die this time, but I certainly hadn’t wagered on fire. Sure, I’ll probably pass out before I actually burn, but the idea of it wasn’t a comfort. I was pretty sure this was the worst way to go.

My body slumped unmoving. Damn it.

Russo was going to get it for this. I will absolutely kill him with fire next time. As I floated above my latest vessel, I couldn’t help but feel a loss. I had really liked that one.


I woke and I was so comfortable I was tempted to roll over and bury my head in the luscious pillow beneath my head. But I was also rather excited to find out what my new body was like. We never get a choice. It’s really a crap shoot. Usually the bodies we get inserted in are from coma victims whose owners are long gone, leaving their bodies far behind. You have to get them when they’re fresher. Bodies in comas for too long don’t work so well.

I took a moment to feel. Putting attention on extremities and nerves to see what I was up against. There was a dull ache near my right temple and a throb on my left shin. Felt like road burn. Otherwise, the body felt pretty good. Really good if I had to be honest. I’d gotten another female which was nice.  I felt more comfortable as a female, though I could run a male body around just as easily.

I took in a deep breath and let my eyelids flutter before opening them to check out my surroundings. I would have to meet my new family, friends, and loved ones soon. Had to go through the spiel; What happened? How did I get here. I don’t remember anything. As always, they’ll be happy I’m alive.

“She’s waking up!” a woman screeched nearby. Yeesh. There was some activity and then someone took my hand.

“Lana, baby. I am so happy you’re coming back to me!” The woman sounded like she smoked a ton of cigarettes, but I didn’t detect the foul stench of them. I focused on her then. She had a curly white permed halo around her head and bright blue eyes surrounded by wrinkles.

“It would have been the end of me to outlive you, girl,” she chided though a tear leaked from her eye. It was always weird. I don’t remember ever having anyone care about me like that and yet so many times I had woken with someone there who was so pleased, so loving. Of course, I’d had the opposite too. Where someone had wished I was dead, was hoping for the will to kick in, or just a general jerk of a family member.

For some reason, I liked this lady right away. She continued, her voice strict, “You had better not ever ride one of those killer machines again.”

I blinked. “I love motorcycles.” My voice was a rough whisper. I thought it sounded kind of cool. Her eyes widened in fear. Before she could say anything, a Greek God appeared over her shoulder with a boyish grin on his face. He pushed passed and leaned in, his scent filled me with masculine musk and before I could even think about swooning, he leaned in and kissed me full on the mouth.

I know; What! Today my luck was in the one thousandth of epicness. He pulled back and a large hand wiped a tear from his eye and then ran a finger down my cheek. He smiled and opened his mouth to speak but just closed it again and kept smiling and touching my face.

This man loved me. Or at least he loved whoever used to live here.

And I liked that. Very much. I had been floating for so long.

“I don’t remember what happened,” I said softly my voice recovering slightly. “I don’t remember me. But I remember I love you.”

He coughed and tried to cover up his emotions. “I’m so glad you’re back,” his gruff voice was music to my ears. “I love you, Lana Croft.”

My mother was weeping softly near the foot of the bed. I looked over to her. “And you too.” She snorted and continued to cry though she smiled.


It was days before they let me check out. Once everything had been checked and re-checked, I was finally able to see my new body and get dressed. I stepped in front of the mirror and gasped.

I looked just like the Tomb Raider lady. I was hot, I mean smoking. What planet was I even on? I cleaned up and stepped out only to have a doctor pop in for a final check.

“And are you all set, Ms. Croft?” the doctor asked with a calm smile. I stared at him. Each set of eyes was different and it took me a moment to realize who I was seeing. I glanced around before answering.

“What do you want, Russo?”

“Hey,” he waved a consolatory hand, “I’m Dr. Solarly for now.”

“I call truce,” I said quickly. I wasn’t attached to any machines so he couldn’t kill me that way.

“It’s cool,” he said and I think he really meant it. “I’m having fun. Never been a Doctor before. I think the Establishment wanted us to take a break. They even inserted the medical information into my memory so I fit in. Check yours, you probably know all about motorcycles, right?”

I stopped to think and realized he was right. I knew how to take apart most motorcycles and put them back together like a normal person would brush their teeth. I could apparently ride the shit out of them too, seeing as how I lived through a bad accident.

Russo, Dr. Solarly, held out his hand. I reached out and shook it. “Well, little bother, break time it is.”

As our hands separated, my incredibly beautiful boyfriend came to collect me. I was so ready to go home and get me some of that. I took his arm and waved to Dr. Solarly knowing if break time ended, Russo was gonna burn.


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Give us a Story Starter….

Did you know that we rely on you, our friends, our fans, to give us the spark to start an amazing story?

Send an email to storiesmyfriendsstarted@gmail.com and send the opening line to a story. Make sure you include at least your first name (or a nickname) so we know who to dedicate it too!

The more starters we get, the more stories we write.

We look forward to hearing from you!


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Hot Damn, Ms. Claus by Lisa Barry

To Trish Collins ~ thank you for the first line that led to such a fun little yarn!

A Santa costume isn’t the easiest place to hide a gun. 

Especially when it’s a cheap Mrs. Santa Slut suit and some asshat decided to ship you a size too small when you needed it fast. I had no idea where I was going to find another in less than a day so I had to improvise.

I went and found a ridiculous pair of thigh high boots and fashioned a furry white topper for each. After placing a buckle on the sides, I was able to tuck the gun inside my right thigh inside the boot. It would be an evening event so the darkness would be on my side.

I was certain that the decorator Mr. Grayson McNeally had hired would keep his home muted and candle lit, soft and seductive for the party, just the way he would like it. Just the way he had set it up at the Halloween costume party. The one I had stumbled into blindly and had my heart crushed.

I stood in front of my full length mirror and smiled. I’ve always been a pretty conservative dresser, hiding my curves in suits or sweats, but it turned out I can rock a whorish outfit with the best of them. The red and black Mrs. Claus suit resembling a teddy more than a jacket hugged me like a glove and then some. The gun pressed into my thigh was hidden beautifully. Mr. McNeally was going to pay for being such a jerk.

I fluffed my long blond hair. Usually pulled back in a ponytail or bun, it hung in golden waves to just below my shoulder blades. Hot damn, Ms. Claus. My eyes sparkled in amusement. I crack myself up.

When I arrived, as I suspected, the house was muted and dimly lit. Classical music played softly in the background, people dressed in just about every holiday costume I could imagine littered the hallways and ballroom. The house was huge. It took me twenty minutes to find the big boss.

He was chatting with the CFO, a tall, elderly woman dressed elegantly but with antlers. Subtle but nice, I approved. Mr. McNeally was dressed impeccably and beautifully–as the Scrooge. His dark hair hung softly over his forehead and curled just a touch at his neck. His deep dark eyes were bright and alert and when they found me, they widened slightly. His full lips turned up slightly and he nodded. I smiled and slowly blinked.

He quickly ended his conversation and moved like a shadow to my side. Without speaking a word, he directed me to the hallway, up a set of stairs, and into a dim room. A game room if I remembered correctly.

As soon as the door shut behind us, without any delay, I bent slightly and pulled the gun from my boot.

“You look so amaz…” he started. The gun went off, the silencer turning the noise into a cough. The bullet ripped through his stomach and ended up in a chair behind him. His hand covered the wound and he staggered back a foot before regaining some control.

“What on bloody earth did you do that for?” he demanded, his English accent melting my heart a bit.

“You take advantage of me and then leave without a word,” I said softly, “That is rude and you needed to know that I don’t take lightly to such treatment.”

I put the gun down on a nearby side table and then moved to sit in a stool by a pool table. I pointed at the table.

“That was fun.”

He chuckled and then growled softly. “You know; you could have just asked. I have a perfectly valid explanation and when you hear it, you are going to feel bad about this.” He waved a bloody hand at her before starting to wipe it off on his pants.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “It’s not often a person gets to shoot someone knowing full well the person will heal in just a few moments.”

“I certainly hope this isn’t going to be a customary way to let your betrothed know that you’re angry.”

“My betrothed needs to learn that he doesn’t get to woo me and then leave me until the next time he wants me. He has to share what’s going on in that thick skull. In his life.”

“I stand here bleeding and thoroughly corrected,” he said and I had to smile.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not bleeding anymore.”

“True, true,” he muttered. I went and took his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and back to your guests.”

“You are unlike anyone I’ve known before, Ms. Blade,” he said as they walked toward the door.

I smiled and my heart fluttered. “I know.”


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