Month: June 2017

Katty Comment

Chewing with your mouth open or smacking your lips while chewing. Doesn’t matter if its food or gum. Stop it.

Katty Comment

Level: Scratch Cat Fever

Voice mails are supposed to alert people you’re unavailable to take a call, not too act like a teenage boy making a prank. You probably think you’re hilarious. But guess what it’s not.

Today I made a call and this is what I got: “Hello…Hello…Hello…I’m losing…sike leave me a message.”

This makes me want to jump through the line and knock you out.

Katty Comment:


It’s mine. Stop parking in my spot. Find another one.

Our brains are program for patterns and routine. It’s why we always pick the same seat at meetings or home or why we drive the same to work every time, even without thinking about it. Muscle memory. And yes, that includes your brain.

When our offices moved about a year ago, I tried out a few parking spots before I found the one I like. I’ve parked there for the past 8 months. I know people know my car because it’s the only one of its color and make. Don’t park in my spot.

One morning, I pull into the lot and someone is in my spot. My spot. My unofficial, self-assigned parking spot.

Okay, one day I’ll let it pass, but now it’s been a few weeks. Maybe I should make a sign with my name it.

Teresa Lopez Only

Flash Fiction: Spider Dreams

They come in my dreams. Despair and dread on legs. They spin their webs, covering every square inch of the basement I’m trapped in.  A bare bulb lights my path to freedom.

Beneath me is a cold concrete floor that I lay on; paralyzed with fear. Around me, patterned swirls hang from shelves. Silken strings dangle from woven nests filled with eight-legged creatures.

I feel every one of their eight eyes on me as I propel myself w/toes arms. Sweat slicks my skin. My heart hammers in my chest. Silently, I beg them not to notice me.

Muscles rigid, terror glides by silken strands slide across my body. What if they come after me; sinking their sharp fangs into my flesh or spin me into a cocoon for a late night snack?

The whispers of their feet catch my attention. I pause. I’m almost there, to the stairs, to my freedom. All at once, they scuttle to the edges of their webs.

My heart is in my throat now, and I can’t hear anything but the pounding in my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut, and I can hardly catch my breath. They’re so close. One misstep and…

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