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Tag Archives: truth

Goodbye Soda, My Friend…

Anyone who tells you caffeine is not a drug is a liar. Anyone who tells you that you can’t get addicted is a liar. Anyone who tells you that caffeine withdrawal isn’t that bad is probably also a liar.

I’ve decided to kick the habit of drinking two liters (conservative estimate) of soda a day, on the account of I don’t want to die before I’m fifty. I’ll be spending today curled up in bed in pain and feeling sorry for myself, while I am brought fruit juice and encouraging words from people who love me. I am allowing myself one days worth pity party.

I’ll get back to your regularly scheduled fiction tomorrow.  Thanks for your patience.

 
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Posted by on March 7, 2017 in BekahBeth's Thoughts

 

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Fiction: Legal Theft Project–Side Project (199 words)

The Captain’s favorite detective had just staggered out of his office. He offered a smug smile to the other detectives sitting around the room, a wink to one of the cute detectives near the front, and then strolled out of the room.

“He’s not going to get into any trouble at all, is he?” Det. Tuggy turned around to complain to Det. Milton behind her.

“Doubtful,” Milton sighed, not even looking up from the pages on his desk. “He’s the saint, remember? He’s not going to get anything held against him for a very long time.”

“Dammit,” Tuggy sighed, turning back to her own desk, resisting the urge to punch something hard. “I am so sick of him getting away with whatever he wants to get away with.”

“Yeah—well, work on your sucking up skills,” Milton muttered, just loud enough that only Tuggy would be able to hear him, “Rumor has it our Captain can be bought.”

Tuggy let that sentence turn over in her mind a few times before letting a small smile crawl across her face. She knew what her next side project was going to be. And they weren’t going to know what hit them.

 
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Posted by on December 13, 2016 in Legal Theft Project, Stories

 

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Short-Term Changes

Hello Friends and Families,

As some of you are already aware, I’ve recently been hit on all sides from some pretty nasty heartbreakers in the past week or so.  While I’m sure I’ll be able to get through it and be stronger on the other side, right now I feel quite overwhelmed.

So, I’m taking a little break from new writing.  But don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you hanging.  Instead, we’re going to have a week or two of ‘Greatest Hits According to Bekah Beth.’  I’ll take some of my favorite stories from the last two years, clean them up where they need it, and repost them for you all to see what I like most in my writing.

Feel free to weigh in if you agree with my favorites, or if you have a favorite that you want to see.

Thank you all for your patience while I work through the next couple of weeks,

❤ Bekah Beth

 
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Posted by on March 28, 2016 in BekahBeth's Thoughts

 

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Fiction: Geneva’s Lies (240 words)

I didn’t tell Jason wat we had decided.  I didn’t tell him that even though we had trained Arthur to have his very best chance, we all knew he wouldn’t make it out of this alive.  It wasn’t a slim chance that he was coming back—this was no chance that he was coming back.  And we all knew that completely when we decided to ask Arthur to do it.

Jason wouldn’t be able to handle that.  He couldn’t send a man to his definite death.  Even though it was t only way to save the rest of the world, Jason wouldn’t be able to just sit with it.  He would insist we find another way, as if we hadn’t spent the last several months trying to come up with literally any solution at all.  Jason would insist we find another way, even if it meant we all sat here and died while we looked for it.

So, no, I didn’t tell Jason what we had decided.  It’s the biggest secret I’ve ever kept from my husband.  And no—I don’t feel good about it.  But I don’t feel good about the fact that I sent Arthur to his death either. However, I am not as soft hearted as my husband.  I can do what needs to be done, regardless of how I feel. So I will continue to lie. With relative ease.

And I am not changing my mind.

 
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Posted by on January 26, 2016 in Stories, Uncategorized

 

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Fiction: Memories (246 words)

“Here,” Jonah offered her a knife, sheathed in a piece of carefully cared for leather.  “It’s yours, Petra.  Maybe you remember?”

She said nothing, but looked up and down between Jonah and the knife.  Jonah shrugged like he couldn’t really care either way.  “You were trained with it, and even if you can’t remember it, I’d bet your muscles would react automatically.”  Jonah gave another half shrug, setting the knife down on the foot of her bed.  “I want you to feel that you can defend yourself if you feel threatened.  It sucks to be defenseless.”

“Are you defenseless now?” Petra asked.

“No,” Jonah sighed, “No.  Being defenseless was my first mistake.”

There was something he wasn’t saying, but Petra didn’t know how to ask.  He nudge the knife forward a little on the bed. “Take it. Just in case.”  Petra reached down and picked it up, and found she did feel better to have it in her hand. She pulled the knife half way from it’s sheath and though she still couldn’t place it, it did feel familiar.

“Thank you,” Petra answered, part manners didn’t remember learning, and part gratitude.

“Yeah,” Jonah said looking at the exposed blade.  “Least I can do.”  He blinked a few times,  before heading out of the hospital room.

Petra slid the knife back into the leather, and slipped it under the blanket, pressed against her leg.  She felt safer with it there.  The rest, she’d figure that out later.

 
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Posted by on July 16, 2015 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Top Floor Truths (362 words)

Andy didn’t have to think twice about where to look for Mara.  She’d been off the team for two and half years.  She’d stepped into the building all of three times in all that while.  And he still knew exactly where she would be.

He always got a little nervous n that last staircase, but he sucked it up.  He wanted to talk to her and she wouldn’t be coming down for a while. So he went up.

Mara was leaning against the rail, looking down off the edge of the building. Andy stuck to the wall near where the door led outside.  He waited.

“Ava needs to get better,” Mara said more to the wind then to her brother.  “Ava needs to get better so that Ava is better and Ava needs to get better so that the team can be the team and Ava needs to get better so that I can go home.”

“Yeah,” Andy said weakly, more because she needed to hear him say something, rather than because he had something to say.

“I can’t leave,” Mara finally turned around to face him, leaning her back against the railing now, and causing Andy to swallow another little wave of fear.  “I don’t want to stay, but I can’t leave.”

“I’ll run interference—“ Andy offered, “You and Colin and Diane don’t have to e in the same room a the same time for extended time.  Meetings with Ava’s doctor, and that’s it.”

Mara smiled, and as a gesture of kindness, stepped away from the railing to join Andy against the wall.  “I don’t want to make your life any more difficult than I already have.”

Andy took a breath of relief now that his sister wasn’t going to fall fourteen stories to her death.  “Life is going to be complicated any way we spin this.  Might as well help you out and let the two of them fend for themselves.”

“I just wish this all hadn’t gone so complicated.”  Mara sighed, sliding down to the base of the wall.

Andy sank down too and put an arm around Mara’s shoulders.  “Life sucks, sister.”

Mara scoffed.  “Yes, yes it does.”

 
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Posted by on July 5, 2015 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Bringing Her Home (111 words)

He watched on in silence because, really, what else was there for him to do.  Crissa wanted to kill him.  She wanted to tear him limb from limb, and if he got too close then he had no doubt in his mind that she could do it too.

When Connal saw Crissa’s original return reaction to seeing Lio, he had asked, “What lies did they tell her? How could they make her think like that?”

Lio didn’t answer, because he didn’t know.  But his worse fear was that the answer was “None. They didn’t tell her any lies.”

What was he going to do if all Crissa knew was the truth?

 

 
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Posted by on April 12, 2015 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Dealing (378 words)

Lydia (or should he call her Anna now?) had finally told him everything.  The truth of how she and Timothy were created. The training they went through since birth to get as strong as they were.  What her grandmother–technically her genetic twin just decades older–had told her about her brother, and about the people who raised her.  The lie that put everything in motion.  She told him everything.

And Tristan didn’t have a clue what to do with it.

“I understand if you don’t trust me anymore, or if you want to lock me up or turn me in or whatever you feel is necessary.  But–I had to tell you. You can’t beat him without knowing everything I know.  To be fair, I’m still not sure you can beat him, but now at least you have a fighting chance.”

“You’re right. I needed to know…”  Tristan broke off, shaking his head.  “This is a lot.  We couldn’t win without it–and I thank you for that but–God.  I don’t know.”  Tristan rubbed at his eyes and looked at Lydia carefully.  “It’s too much right now.  So–Let’s just get through the next two weeks, let’s get through the challenge.  And then, well, I still don’t know.  We’ll decide what happens when we see which way the dice falls.”

Lydia started to feel a bit hopeful.  That didn’t sound like Tristan hated her.  He didn’t sound completely disgusted.  That was something.  “Okay–that’s more than fair.  Thank you very much.”

“Okay” Tristan stood up at stared at a point vaguely to the left of Lydia’s head, “I’m going to go.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow, figure more of this out.”

As Tristan turned to leave, Lydia felt a bubble of panic rise in her chest, and before she could stop herself, she called his name.  Tristan stopped, but didn’t turn around.  “I just want you to know…I do love you. With all my heart.  That was never a lie.”

“I can’t do this right now,”  Tristan said sternly, sounding the most sure that he had all night.  “Okay?  I just can’t deal with that right now.”

“Okay,”  Lydia offered weakly.  “Okay.”  Tristan left the room, and Lydia sank down to sit on the little rough bed and repeated “Okay” once more.  After all, everything thing else had already been said.

 
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Posted by on January 7, 2015 in Lydia's Stories

 

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One Year Down

One year down.

I’ve written three hundred and sixty five short stories (or segments of stories) and posted them up on this blog.  I certainly didn’t think that this would last a full year. I have a (usually pretty realistic) view of exactly what my follow through looks like, and for some reason, this year with this project was full of follow through.  And I’m not bored yet, not annoyed yet, still really enjoying creating posts for every day.  So—here’s to the start of a second year.

If you’ve been reading since the beginning, thank you.  If you picked up somewhere in the middle of all this, thank you, too.  If you’ve just started reading with this post—well, then you’re probably a little confused, but feel free to go back through the last year worth of stories, and keep reading to find out how long I can go without missing a day.

Thank you.  Here’s to being weird.

❤ BBK

 
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Posted by on January 1, 2015 in BekahBeth's Thoughts

 

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Fiction: Psychic Advice (278 Words)

My dad was the one who told me I was psychic He had been too, and he explained that it would get stronger, and then it would get weaker.  He warned me time and time again that I would only know after the fact when I had been at my peak, and that no matter what I should try to do some good with it before it faded and was as good as gone.

Of course, like the proper little shit I was, I ignored my father completely and wandered into a city to use my abilities as a con man to make some serious change, telling people just what they wanted to hear, being who they wanted me to be—so I could make them do exactly what benefited me.  Usually, it benefited them too—but often in benefited me more.

But then I met Daniel.  He told me, and I believed, that he would lead me to everything I’d hoped to get out of life.  I just had to make a few concessions, follow a couple of his rules.  It was so subtle.  I didn’t even really realize he was influencing me. When I first said no, he didn’t even try to convince me otherwise.  He just kept this quiet confidence that I would come around to his side. He didn’t leave me to my bad ways.  He just waited.

I asked him why—what made him so sure I was going to come around to seeing his side of things?

Daniel just smiled, and I remember word for word what he said. “Ah Arthur, you might be the psychic, but I’ve seen your future.  You’ll do the right thing.”

 
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Posted by on October 23, 2014 in Maggie's Stories

 

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