Category Archives: Flash Fiction

June 16, 2020

This entry is part 3 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written   29  minutes. No time for edits.

Cameron Webber was not a rule-follower. It was impossible to be the son of Elizabeth Webber, to be raised by her, and not decide that most of the time, rules were made by idiots and they should be broken.

She’d always taught him to follow his gut, to follow his heart, and to trust himself because the world would let him down a lot but it would be okay as long as he knew what he was doing was right.

And Cameron had let that direction guide him his whole life—all sixteen short years of it. Which was, somehow, he found himself barreling down a highway with his brothers in the backseat and him with nothing more than a learner’s permit.

Aiden had been crying when they first left the house, and Jake had been mad because his phone had fallen in the scramble to get to the car, and it had broken. His mother hadn’t let him go back to it, promising Jake they’d call for help as soon as they got where they were going.

Jake and Aiden didn’t even really know what had happened — they’d been sleeping, and then when the screaming and crying and yelling had started, they’d huddled in their shared room, ending up hiding in closet.

Cameron and their frantic mother had hustled them past her bedroom, down the stairs, and out the door before Jake and Aiden could even really understand what was wrong. Cameron had hoped there wouldn’t be any questions until they got where they were going —

But then Aiden had remembered his mother’s tears, and the headlights of truck in the oncoming lane next to them had flashed on Cameron’s knuckles—scratched and bleeding. He’d started crying again.

Jake, the resolute kid who’d already seen too much in his short life, had unhooked his seatbelt and hugged his younger brother, protecting him the way Cameron had failed to protect him.

Never again. His mother had told him to take his brothers and run, and he hadn’t thought twice.

His cell phone rang, and the screen lit up on his mother’s dashboard, the Bluetooth connection proclaiming that Jason Morgan was calling.

Cameron exhaled slowly, and Jake leaned forward, frowning at the screen. “That’s my dad! Answer it! I was calling him and he must have seen it!”

Jason was the only person his mother told him they would be able to trust, but sometimes her judgment on trusting men was shit, so Cameron ignored the phone call.

“We’re not where we’re supposed to be yet,” Cameron told him. “We’ll call him when we get over the border—”

“But—”

“Sit back, Jake, and put your seatbelt back on.” Cameron pressed on the pedal of the car, ignoring as the phone kept ringing. Then it went silent for a minute before lighting up again. He grimaced. Jason was just going to keep calling.

“Cam—”

“Okay, okay—” But Cameron couldn’t peel a hand off the wheel—couldn’t make himself look away from the highway for even a section and they were in a stretch with no exits.

Jake climbed over the seat and settled into the passenger seat, pressing the answer button on the dash. “Dad!”

“Jake? Are you with your brothers?” Jason Morgan’s voice didn’t sound panicked, didn’t sound nervous. Maybe he didn’t know—

“Yeah, yeah, where’s Mom? Did you see her? Is she okay? I’m okay. We’re okay,” Jake said, touching the dash like it was his father—as if he was just comforted by the sound of his voice.

“Your mother is okay. She’s worried about you. Cameron? Are you there?”

Cameron swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Your mother wants me to bring you back to Port Charles.”

“No, she said—”

“She was upset, and she just wanted you safe.” Jason paused for a moment. “Find the next exit, Cameron, and I’ll come to you.”

“I—” His hands trembled even as he clenched the wheel more tightly. “I can’t. I can’t until they’re safe. I can’t stop. I don’t know—”

“They’re safe, Cameron. I promise you. It’s okay to come back.”

Cameron badly wanted to listen to him, wanted to believe him. But he knew that nothing was okay. “Jason—”

“Cameron, I need to you to find an exit and pull over. I need to talk to you.”

He swallowed. “Is it about Mom?”

“Dad?” Jake leaned forward again. “You said Mom is okay—”

“She’s okay—”

“I want Mommy!”

“Cameron,” Jason said again, his tone implaccable, unmoveable. Unshakeable. Maybe he was someone he could trust. His mother had always said that, and the only time Jason had ever let them down was when he’d gone away.

“Okay. I’ll find an exit and call you back.”

“Okay. Stay on the line with me,” Jason told him. “I’m on the highway now, I’m probably about a half hour behind you.”

So Cameron didn’t hang up, even though they didn’t say anything else for the ten minutes it took Cameron to find an exit ramp. He pulled into a resting spot, picked up his phone, and switched the connection to a private call.

“Stay inside the car,” Cameron told his brothers. He stepped out of the car and turned his back on the gas station, not wanting any cameras to catch him. “Jason?”

“I’m twenty minutes behind you, Cameron. Can your brothers hear me?”

“No.”

“Okay. Your mother is at the PCPD. She confessed to murdering Franco.”

Cameron’s stomach dropped, rolled. “What? Why? She didn’t—”

“I know. But you know your mother. No one comes before you and your brothers.”

“You can’t let her—you can’t let her do it—”

“I’m working on that, but she won’t do anything until you boys are safe.”

“Safe,” Cameron repeated. He dragged his free hand over his face and through his hair. “Sure. Just—I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just make sure my mom is okay. My brothers and my mom. That’s all I care about.”

“I promise you, I will find a way to make this okay for all you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Cameron said and hung up.

June 15, 2020

This entry is part 3 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Written in  25 minutes. No time for typos.

Jason stared at Elizabeth for a long moment, still not sure what was going on. “Your father?” he repeated. “Why would he—”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, but her face had changed — the brief flare of anger, of fury had vanished and her eyes were blank, her facial expression devoid of emotion.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth said finally. “It’s…it’s good to know you didn’t forget me, and I’m sure it must make you feel better to know that I did not forget you—”

He couldn’t wrap his mind around any of this. For a year, he’d sent her letters that had gone unanswered. He’d sent telegrams that had been ignored — and Elizabeth’s father had done something to make that happened — to force a severance of their relationship — and she…wanted to let it go?

“Why?” Jason asked said as Elizabeth turned away, started to walk rapidly away, towards the entrance of the barn. “Why would he—”

“He’s dead, so it does us no good to wonder what his reasons were.” This, she threw over her shoulder in an unbothered manner. “Life went on. I married, and I have my son now. And I’m sure you haven’t been pining for me all these years.”

In the bright sunshine of the yard, Jason lost her for a moment. He shaded his eyes and found her climbing the steps to the one story ranch home her grandfather had built when he’d come West from New York.

“Elizabeth—” He followed her and stopped her on the porch. “That’s not—”

“Because if you’d really wanted to know what happened, you had a choice I did not.” She focused on him, her eyes cold. “You had the benefit of knowing where I was. You could have come home any time. You could have asked your grandmother. You didn’t.”

“You could have asked her—” Jason bit out but then stopped. Because of course she couldn’t. Lila Quartermaine had been born into proper London society. Even half a century after leaving London for New York City, Lila would have been scandalized by a single woman asking after her grandson. Even a woman she liked.

“I could hardly get on a train to find you, and why would I?” Elizabeth shrugged off his hand. “You wrote a few letters, sent a few telegrams, then washed your hands of it, then you have the absolute nerve to come out here and demand to know why I married a man old enough to be my father nstead of waiting for a man who was never coming back.”

She lifted her chin. “You lost the right to ask me that question long ago.”

She stalked inside the house, letting the door slam shut behind her. Jason stared at it, then turned around to return to his horse.

He had other ways to discover what had happened.

______

When Jason arrived back in town, he went straight to the Diamond Springs Western Union office where stagecoaches and trains delivered also delivered the mail.

Behind the counter, he found the same woman manning the counter that had held the position when he’d left town seven years ago. Felicia Jones smiled brightly at him. “Good afternoon, Sheriff Morgan. It’s so lovely to see you back!”

“Mrs. Jones.” Jason hesitated, because now that she was standing in front of him, he wasn’t sure how to accuse her of stealing his mail or diverting Elizabeth’s letters. “I was wondering about some telegrams I sent here a few years ago.”

Her smile dimmed slightly, and he sighed. Because there it was — the glint of recoginition in her eyes. Felicia looked away, took a deep breath, and the smile returned in full force. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Jones. I sent two telegrams to Elizabeth Webber in the summer and fall of 1869,” he said carefully. “She never received them. She also never received any of my letters.”

“Well, mail goes missing from time to time,” Felicia began, but Jason shook his head.

“All twenty-four letters I wrote? Every single one? What about the letters she wrote me? She said she wrote two years worth of letters. I never received one of them.” He kept his tone even. “I’m just—I’m just looking for answers, Mrs. Jones.”

“I—”

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I don’t even plan to tell anyone else.” He stepped closer to her. “I’m not here as an officer of the law, Mrs. Jones. I’m here as a man who wrote the woman he loves and never heard from her again.”

Felicia took a deep breath. “I was very fortunate to be given this position,” she said softly. “After my husband died, I had two little girls to care for. They had to come first. You must understand that.”

“I do.”

“I always felt terribly about the whole thing, especially when Elizabeth married Dr. Lewis. He was a nice man, but she was so young. I thought about telling her—but I would have lost my job. I have no other family. My daughters—”

“Mrs. Jones.”

“Jeff Webber is—was—on the town council. The city owns this business, and he—he threatened to fire me if I didn’t—” Felicia pressed her lips together. “But he’s dead now, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

“I saved them all,” she told him. “Even the telegrams. I thought—one day, one day, I’ll make it right.” She went into the back office, and then a few minutes later returned with a crate.

She set the wooden crate on top of the counter and took out a packet. “Here are your letters—” It was a thick packet—nearly all of his letters seemed to have reached Diamond Springs. Pinned to the top of the letters were his telegrams.

He stared at the rest of the crate, filled to the brim with letters. “Are all of those—”

“She wrote twice a week for two years,” Felicia murmured. “I thought about mailing them a few times, you know. Just letting one or two slip past, but Mr. Webber came in once and while to check, and I was just—” She looked at him. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect my family.”

“Twice a week—” Jason exhaled slowly. She’d written him longer and more often—and for all these years, he’d thought she’d forgotten him.

She was right. He’d abandoned her first.

June 13, 2020

This entry is part 2 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Whatever It Takes

Written in 21 minutes. No time for typos.

Elizabeth Morgan walked into her brother’s apartment and just stared at the living room, at the jacket thrown carelessly over the back of the sofa.

She walked forward and picked it up, smoothing her hand over the denim. “I always made fun of him,” she murmured. “Because he still wore jean jackets.”

“We’ll find him,” Justus said. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding—”

Elizabeth looked at her cousin-in-law, her favorite of Jason’s family, and smiled thinly. “You know what next week is, don’t you?”

Justus hesitated, looked away. “Yeah, I do. I’m not likely to forget.”

“Do you think my brother would go missing right now? With my divorce about to be finalized, with the one year—” Elizabeth closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “It would be Lily’s birthday, if she’d lived. She should have—”

With a deep exhale, she set the jacket down. “You know, I didn’t think he’d come back for this. For Carly.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Maybe because he wouldn’t come back for me, I thought he’d—” She rubbed her hands together, then frowned at her left hand, at the set of rings she couldn’t take off.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say you to you, Elizabeth.” Justus spread his hands out at his sides.

“Yeah, that’s common in your family. For six months—” She rubbed her chest. “Never mind. We’re not here to litigate any of this again. Steven didn’t disappear on his own. He’s gone, and it’s around the same time Carly died. So I guess I want to know if there’s a connection.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I was out of town, too,” Justus told her. “Tamika’s sister had us down to Philly for her grandfather’s birthday. That’s where I was when I got the call. The only thing Bernie told me was that Moreno’s men had broken into the Towers and they found Carly in the master bedroom.” He pressed his lips together. “Her neck was broken.”

Elizabeth pressed a fist to her abdomen. “Here? In the Towers? I didn’t realize—”

“That’s why I tracked Jason down. With Michael — I was worried. I thought—with Michael possibly in danger—”

“He’d come back for that,” Elizabeth finished. She wandered over to the fireplace and picked up a picture on the mantel. A photograph of Steven and Elizabeth on her wedding day. She traced her fingers over the smile.

She’d forgotten what it was like to smile.

“They never found out how the bomb got in my car, did they?” Elizabeth murmured. “In the parking garage. The Towers was supposed to be safe.” She looked at Justus. “Sonny would never tell me — you know the rules. And Jason couldn’t—” Her throat was thick as she tried to continue speaking. “We couldn’t talk about it.”

“No. Moreno claimed he didn’t know anything, and we—I believed him. So did Jason. Sonny always think it’s Moreno, but we’ve learned to ignore him.” Justus hesitated. “We thought a guard had turned, was going for Jason.”

“So it wouldn’t be the same thing now. Jason’s gone. Carly must have been personal.” Elizabeth set the photo back on the mantel. “When did you realize Steven was gone?”

“The day after Carly. The day I came back, I called him and he didn’t return the calls. We needed him to sedate Sonny, but he—he wasn’t there.”

“Steven and I talk once a day most of the time,” Elizabeth said after a long moment. “Since I moved to Boston, he was worried about me being alone. Sometimes we skipped a day, but he always texted. When he didn’t call last week—I let it go. Her murder—I knew about it. I thought—I thought he was busy.”

She went down the hallway to his bedroom and pushed open the slightly ajar door. The bed was neatly made, the closet door closed. “But by Wednesday, I knew something was wrong. I kept trying—I kept pretending—but I knew. Seven days.”

She opened the closet and found what she was looking for — a box at the bottom of the closet — a peach memory box, decorated with green and white swirls. She picked it up and set it on Steven’s dresser.

“We had plans for next week,” Elizabeth murmured. “For Lily’s birthday. I was going to open this and finally look at her—”

Justus touched her shoulder. “You didn’t—”

“They told me she was stillborn, and I don’t—” Elizabeth traced the embossed edges. “I couldn’t. Jason did. Maybe that was the problem. I don’t know. I wished I was dead, too. I should have been.”

“Elizabeth—”

She opened the box and just stared at the photograph laying on top. The baby looked like she was sleeping — a sweet little face with a lock of light brown hair dusting her forehead.

Elizabeth picked it up, took a deep breath. “She looks like Jason,” she murmured. She looked at Justus whose eyes were red. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Yeah. She does. Elizabeth, he’s always blamed himself. He thinks he killed her.”

“He didn’t,” Elizabeth said. She set the photo back in the box and closed the top. “Sonny did. You know that, don’t you?”

“Elizabeth—”

“He never liked me, never liked Jason having his own family. That’s why you never found out who it was. That’s why he didn’t come to the funeral. That’s why Jason can’t look at me. Because he knows it, too.”

June 11, 2020

This entry is part 2 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in 20  minutes. No time for edits.

Jason scowled and paced in front of the interview room of the PCPD, stopping every few seconds to glare into the window as if he could force Chase to let him into his mind.

“Any words on the kids yet?” Dante Falconieri asked quietly. Jason turned, fowning at his business partner’s son. “We’ve got an APB on Elizabeth’s car but it hasn’t hit yet.”

Jason shook his head and looked back at the window as a pale, exhausted Elizabeth put her face in her hands. Diane Miller, his attorney, put a hand on her shoulder, and said something Jason couldn’t hear to Chase and Jordan Ashford sitting across the table.

“You think she did it?”

Jason met Dante’s eyes. “I don’t care if you’re Sonny’s son. I’m not going to say anything to you without a lawyer.”

Dante shrugged. “Okay. Your kid is out there, missing, but I’m the bad guy—”

Jason ignored him and stared through the window again, his muscles tensing as Elizabeth started to cry. Jordan got to her feet and faced him into the window, raising her brows.

Then the door opened and the commissioner stepped out, a scowl on her face. “She says she won’t answer any questions until she can talk to you,” Jordan told Jason.

Without another word, the woman stalked off towards her office. Jason went into the room where Chase was gathering up his papers.

“Before you go, Detective Chase, I need you to uncuff my client,” Diane demanded. “Now—”

Chase grimaced but leaneed over to unhook Elizabeth’s cuffs from the table. He still left the silver bracelets on her wrists. “That’s as much as you get—”

“I don’t care, Diane—” Elizabeth began.

“Uncuff her now,” Jason said flatly. “She’s not going anywhere—”

“I need some questions answered,” Chase cut in. “Where are the kids? Why was Franco at your house tonight? Until I get some answers, she stays in the cuffs. You have five minutes to talk to Jason,” he told Elizabeth. “Then you’re going to be booked. So I’d think carefully about what happens next.”

“You know, I thought I was going to like him,” Diane muttered when the cop had left, slamming the door behind him. “I take it back.” She twisted in her seat. “Talk now—”

“It’s not important,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head. “I don’t care what happens to me—” She turned her attention to Jason. “Cameron’s in my car with the boys. I told them to head for Canada. He has my old flip phone for emergencies. I told the cops he doesn’t have a phone—”

“I’m not hearing this,” Diane muttered as she pushed away from the table.

“Elizabeth—”

“I need you to call Cameron,” Elizabeth told him. “He knows not to answer the phone for anyone except for me or you. I—” Her eyes darted away, nervous for a second, then looked back. “You’ll help him, won’t you? I mean, with the boys—all of them—”

“Yes,” Jason took her trembling hands in his. “Elizabeth—”

“Call him. Find them, and then I need you—” She licked her lips, looked at Diane, then dropped her voice. “And then I need you to get him out of the country. Somewhere no one can touch him. Until this is over, okay? Until I’m sentenced—”

“Wait—” Jason shook his head. “No—”

“You have to—” She squeezed her eyes. “This is my fault. All my fault. I have to protect my boys. So until this is over, I just—I need you to help me. I don’t—” Her voice faltered. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to them—I need them to be okay. I need them to stay together. You—you’ll keep them together, won’t you?—”

“Hey—”

“Jason, we don’t have a lot of time,” Diane said, tapping her watch. “I’m still not listening, but whatever we do, we have to do it quickly. They’re claiming she confessed.” She glared at Elizabeth. “You know for someone who’s been hanging around Jason Morgan since she was a teenager, you sure don’t act like it—”

“Shut up, Diane—” Jason dismissed his irritable attorney, and focused on Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, I’ll get you out of this—”

“No, I don’t care about me, I just care about the boys—”

“I care about you, and so do they.” Jason looked at her for a long moment, then looked down at her hands. Her hands were stained with blood, and the rips he’d noticed earlier were evident. But now he saw the torn fingernails, and the scratches on her cheek. He exhaled slowly.

And her instructions echoed in her mind. Get Cameron out of the country. Somewhere with no extradition.

Cameron. Not Jake or Aiden, but Cameron.

“Whatever happens,” he told her, “I’m not letting you or Cameron—or any of the boys—pay for this—”

“I let him into our lives,” Elizabeth choked out. “I did this—”

“And I should have ended it a long time ago,” he said quietly. “I thought I had. So I’m going to fix it. Promise me you’ll cooperate with Diane.”

“I—” Elizabeth looked over at Diane. “You said that they had my confession—”

“I can work around that, but Elizabeth, it will be much easier to deal with this if the boys were here in Port Charles,” Diane told her. “So let’s get you out on bail and Jason can bring them home.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Okay. Okay. Call Cameron. Bring them back. I’m sorry, I panicked—I just wanted them safe—”

“They will be.” He kissed her forehead, looked at Diane. “I’ll call you when we find them.”

June 9, 2020

This entry is part 2 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Written in   25  minutes.. No time for edits.

Written in   25  minutes.. No time for edits.

Jason Morgan had been sworn in as sheriff of Diamond Springs, California, for all of ten minutes before he regretted the decision to come home.

He had no sooner hung up his hat in the local jail and taken a seat before one of his least favorite people sauntered through the door.

“Jason Morgan,” Richard Lansing said with a smug grin. For as long as Jason had known him, the man had tried to pretend like he wasn’t living in a frontier town that had been settled the year Ric was born. He wore slick suits and a hat that was more suited to San Francisco than Diamond Springs.

“Lansing.” Jason didn’t get to his feet to greet him. Instead, he leaned back and put his boots on the desk. He said nothing else because men like Ric Lansing always made themselves understood.

“I was surprised when the council said you’d offered to take the job,” Ric continued. He rocked back on his heels, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his fancy vest. “I thought you’d left this town behind a long time ago. And everyone in it.”

The way he’d said everyone tugged at Jason, and he frowned slightly, tipping his head. “My grandmother still lives here.”

“Of course, of course. We’re all mighty fond of Miss Lila.” Ric’s smirk deepend. “I guess I had the wrong idea when you let Bethie just…wither away, waiting for you.”

Jason’s cheek twitched, and he fought the urge to swing his boots to the ground and get to his feet. “I don’t recall much of a wait,” he said dryly. “She’s married, isn’t she?”

“Well, not at the moment. But soon.” Ric nodded. “I had to wait until Dr. Lewis was a bit colder in his grave before offering for Bethie—”

“Dr. Lewis—” Jason did get to his feet now. “She married Dr. Lewis?” He’d never—he’d never asked his grandmother the identity of the man Elizabeth had wed. Hadn’t it been enough to know that she’d married someone else after ignoring all his letters for more than a year?

But—Cameron Lewis had been old enough to be Elizabeth’s father. Why—Why had she done it?

“Out of the blue,” Ric said, and his eyes darkened with slight irritation. It vanished quickly, but Jason saw it—recognized it. Ric had tried to court Elizabeth soon after she’d turned sixteen, but she’d never been interested.

And part of Jason had always wondered if his absence had made her change her mind—if she’d been Elizabeth Lansing all these years. But—Cameron Lewis—why?

Jason exhaled slowly. It didn’t matter. She’d married someone else and had never bothered to answer any of his letters. She’d made her choice.

“I’m sorry to hear she’s been widowed.”

“Well, a woman as fine as she is won’t be alone for long. Not when she owns that pretty piece of land.” Ric pressed his lips together. “You didn’t know Lewis had died? That’s not why you’re back?”

It made sense now — Ric’s strange visit and interest in Jason’s return. He thought there was a competitor for Elizabeth’s affections.

If it had been anyone else asking, Jason might have set the man’s mind at ease. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about Elizabeth since the day his grandmother’s letter had reached him.

But seeing as how it was Ric Lansing, the most irritating jackass known to man, Jason wasn’t about to give him the satisfication. “No,” Jason said finally. “But thanks for the news. I should go renew my acquaintance with the widow.”

“Now—”

Jason saunted over to the hat rack and plucked his off the peg. “If you’ll excuse me, Ric.”

“See here—”

Jason ignored the sputtering banker and went outside where his horse was still tethered to the hitching post. He swung up on its back and started out of town.

He hadn’t had any intention on seeing Elizabeth today—or seeking her out at all—but now that Ric had forced him to do so—

He found that he wanted to know what the hell had made a girl of nineteen marry a man twice her age when Jason had been off trying to make a life for them.

___________________

Elizabeth laughed as her favorite mare pressed herself over the edge of the stall, reaching for the treat in Elizabeth’s hand. “Now, now, Penny—don’t be greedy—”

She saw a movement out of the corner of her eye, and swung to find a figure in the doorway of the barn. The sunlight at his back set his face in shadows—

Then he stepped forward and Elizabeth swallowed hard as Jason Morgan’s face came into focus. He’d grown in the last eight years, of course. He’d been twenty when he left, and was closer to thirty. His features had hardned somehow—

And his eyes seemed colder than they’d been once upon a time.

“Jason—” Elizabeth smoothed her hands down the skirt of her working dress. She fed Penny her treat and stepped forward. “I didn’t realize you were—I didn’t know when you were coming back.”

“I was sworn in this morning,” Jason said—his voice hadn’t changed, and there was something strange about that. Hearing her beloved’s voice and looking at a much harder man.

“Oh. Well, welcome home, I guess.” Unsure what to do with her hands, she folded them tightly across her chest. “What brings you out here? I mean, the Lazy W isn’t on your way home.”

“No, I—” Jason hesitated. He took his hat off, looked down at the brim. He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe I had some questions I don’t know if I have the right to ask.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Questions—” She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know why you’d have any questions. You never seemed to have them before.”

“Before—” Jason furrowed his brow. “Before when?”

“When you didn’t answer any of my letters.” Elizabeth arched a brow. “I thought after ignoring my letters for two years, you’d run out of things to say to me.”

“W-What letters—” Jason shook his head. “What are you talking about—”

“Don’t pretend—” Elizabeth started past him. “You ignored every single letter I ever wrote to you, and I’m sure I have nothing to say to you now—”

He grabbed her arm, whirled her around to face him. “You—What letters?” he repeated. “You never wrote me a single word. I sent you letters for over a year. And I even sent telegrams that couldn’t get lost—”

They stared at each other for a long moment as Elizabeth blinked, then closed her eyes. “Telegrams,” she repeated softly. “Damn it.”

“What—”

She looked at him, saw some of the ice had melted and he looked more like the boy she’d loved once upon a time. “My father. That son of a bitch. I hope he’s rotting in hell.”

June 6, 2020

This entry is part 1 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Whatever It Takes

Written in 24  minutes. No time for typing or editing. Alternate Universe

“Uh, Jason?”

Jason Morgan turned away from his lawyer, Justus Ward, to frown at the guard standing in the doorway of his penthouse.

What had been his penthouse until six months earlier when he’d filed for divorce and left town. He was only here for a funeral and to make sure his nephew was okay. After that, he’d put this place out of his mind again.

“What? What do you want, Max?” Jason demanded.

“Your wife—” Max winced. “I mean, Mrs. Morgan—I mean, uh, anyway. She’s in the lobby. She wanted to come up to see her brother, but—” He gestured at Justus. “No one’s told her.”

Was she still technically his wife? He couldn’t remember now if she’d signed the papers or if either of their lawyers had filed them with the court. He hadn’t wanted to think about it.

That had been the point of the divorce.

“No one’s told her what?” Jason asked slowly when Justus closed his eyes, his expression pained. “What’s going on? What don’t I know?”

“You just got here,” Justus said after a moment. “And we’ve been—” He pressed his lips together , shook his head. “No one’s seen him since we found Carly.”

“Since before we found Carly,” Max pointed out. “He’s gone. His stuff is still there, but—”

“Damn it.” Jason rubbed his hands over his face. “Damn it. That’s—that can’t be about this? Can it?”

“That’s one of the reasons we wanted you to come back,” Justus told him. “It’s—things are a goddamn mess, and Lansing won’t tell us anything. He’s shut us out. And the last thing any of us want—”

“I don’t give a damn about any of this,” Jason growled. “I told you. I just wanted to bury Carly, make sure Michael is okay, and then go—I can’t—”

He couldn’t care about this. Couldn’t care about the chaos left in the wake of Carly Corintho’s death. This life had already stolen everything he loved. There was nothing left to take.

“She looks upset, Jase,” Max said quietly, drawing Jason’s attention again. “She said he’s not returning any of her calls. That’s not like him. You know that.”

“Yeah.” Jason exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I know. She’s his favorite sister.” He met Justus’s eyes. “How bad is it?”

“Since Carly or since you left?” Justus asked, flatly. “My answer is the same. Ric thinks he can slide into power and Sonny is weak enough to let him. Maybe he already has. I don’t know. Like I said, no one can get near him. Lansing’s orders.”

“About Mrs. Morgan?” Max prompted as if Jason had forgotten his wife being left in the lobby of Harborview Towers, hoping to be let up to her brother’s apartment, located three floors below the penthouse levels.

“Ask her to come up here,” Jason finally said. “But ask her, Max. If she doesn’t want to—” He could barely stand to be in these rooms—

Knowing what might still be upstairs—what they’d never taken down—

“Sure thing.”

When Max was gone, Justus folded his arms and arched his brows. “How long has it been since you saw her?”

Jason grimaced, looked at his lawyer—who was also his cousin and had been the best man at his wedding. “The morning I left.”

“Ah. Right. When you left in the middle of the night without a word, leaving her a set of divorce papers that you went to someone else to file.” Justus shook his head. “I thought maybe in the last six months—”

“No.” Jason hesitated. “I don’t know if—if it became final—”

“Not yet,” Justus said after another minute. “Two more weeks. She didn’t—she thought you’d come back. And when she realized you wouldn’t, she signed the papers and went back to Boston.” He tipped his head. “You know, what you two went through—that’d break most people, and I’m sorry for it, Jason. But what you did to her—”

“It was my fault,” Jason said roughly, hating his cousin for bringing any of this back. “All of it was my fault. I couldn’t stand to be here anymore and know it was my fault. That—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

They heard the ding of the elevator, then the quiet slide of the doors opening. A moment later, Max pushed the door open and his wife—for apparently two more weeks—walked in, stopping just at the threshold.

Elizabeth Morgan, looking tired and pale, folded her arms across a faded Boston University t-shirt and arched a slim brow. “This isn’t Steven’s apartment. Where is my brother?”

Jason just stared at her for a long moment, then swallowed. “I don’t know. I just got back—”

“I didn’t ask you,” Elizabeth said coldly. She looked at Justus. “Where’s Steven? He hasn’t returned my calls in a week. Is it Sonny? Is he taking Carly’s death that badly? What’s going on? He never stays quiet this long—”

“That’s why I asked you to come up,” Justus said smoothly, rounding Jason and walking towards his cousin-in-law. “I don’t know where Steven is. No one has seen him since before we found Carly.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “That’s not good.”

“No,” Justus agreed. He looked back at Jason. “Jason, we’ll talk in a bit, okay? I want to take Elizabeth down to the apartment. Maybe she can help us figure out where he went.”

“Yeah.” Jason nodded over the lump in his throat. “That’s—”

But Justus had already closed the door.

Jason went up the stairs and went towards the end of the short hallway on the second floor. He stopped in front of the door across the hall from the master bedroom—

—so we’ll be close to her—

Then he pushed open the door.

He looked around the room, not sure if he was relieved to see that it hadn’t been touched or angry that it was still here as a reminder of why he’d left his wife in the middle of the night, or why she looked right through him.

The white furniture remained unused, the mint green carpet as plush as the day it had been laid—

And the name painted in bouncy peach letters over the crib — Lily Ann Morgan —

The little girl who had never seen this room, who hadn’t lived long to draw her first breath.

Jason quietly closed the door, pressed his fist against it, then took a deep breath. He’d find Elizabeth’s brother for her because that was the least he could do after he’d killed their daughter.

June 4, 2020

This entry is part 1 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in 21 minutes. No editing. Set 2018ish. Sam left town after divorcing Drew. Franco and Elizabeth broke up after one of his many lies. Pick one. Doesn’t matter.

The sound of his cell phone jerked Jason Morgan out of sleep. Never a deep sleeper, he rolled over and reached for the phone on his nightstand, already alert and fully awake.

He saw his ten-year-old son’s face flashing on the screen before Jason pressed the accept button. “Jake?” he demanded. “What’s wrong—”

“You have to—Dad—”

There was a grunt, a crash, and then the line went dead.

Jason forced himself to take a deep breath and opened the app to locate his son’s phone even as he was pulling on his jeans and shoving his feet into boots. By the time he’d reached the street in front of his apartment building, the app had located Jake’s phone at his mother’s house.

Exactly where it should be at 1:13 AM on a Wednesday night in the middle of June. Jason hissed and called Elizabeth’s phone, putting his car into drive.

Elizabeth never answered. Neither did her older son, Cameron.

He didn’t know who else to call—there was no one else—Elizabeth had only moved to the house the month before and didn’t know her neighbors. Her grandmother had passed away, and Jason hadn’t been back in Port Charles long enough to know who else she was close to.

He’d been gone too long and too much had changed. He didn’t know her life anymore.

Still, he didn’t panic. Elizabeth’s phone might be off. Jake might be playing a prank. Cameron might have had his phone taken away for punishment. It could be anything.

And then he turned the corner onto her street.

Even before her house came into view, Jason saw the flashing blue and red lights. The black and white cop cars parked haphazardly in her driveway and lawn. The ambulance out front.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since Jake had called him—had the police already been there? Already on their way?

He parked a few houses away and climbed out his car.

And then saw the stretcher leaving Elizabeth’s house, the black body bag stretched out. His heart began to pound.

“You can’t come any closer—” An officer threw up his hand as Jason started to push past the police line. Jason forced himself not to throw the man into the row of cars—that wouldn’t help anyone—

He needed to know who was in the bag. Where was his son? His brothers?

His mother?

Where was Elizabeth and her kids?

He frantically searched the scene, hoping to find her or one of them. He looked for Cameron’s and Jake’s blond heads, Aiden’s dark curls—

Elizabeth’s chestnut brown.

“My son lives there!” Jason retorted as the cop tried to push him back. “He called me in the middle of the night—”

The officer’s eyes sharpened. “What? You talked to one of the kids?” He turned and waved a hand. “Chase!”

Harrison Chase, a recent transplant to the PCPD, turned from talking to a man in a pair of pajamas. When he saw Jason, his eyes widened and he quickly moved over to them. “Jason Morgan? How did you know—”

“He said he got a call from one of the kids—”

“Jake,” Jason interrupted the officer. He focused on Chase. “Jake called me, but he just told me to come—then the line went dead.” He tugged his phone out of the pocket. “You can look for yourself—” He pulled up the recent calls.

“Came at 1:13,” Chase murmured. “Lasted 30 seconds—half of it was probably waiting for the connection—”

“What happened?” Jason demanded roughly. He grabbed Chase by the lapels of the jacket, finally out of patience. “Where is my son? Where’s Elizabeth and her kids?”

“No, no—” Chase barked at the officer who’s hand went to holster. “Relax—” He put his hand over Jason’s and met his eyes. “I don’t know where the boys are, Morgan. They’re missing.”

“No—” Jason released the cop, finally feeling the flickering edge of panic. “No, that’s not possible. Jake was here ten minutes ago—”

“We think the oldest kid took the younger ones and left,” the cop volunteered. Chase glared at him. “What?”

“What do you mean? Where’s—”

Jason looked again at the body bag as it was loaded into the ambulance. A chill spread in his chest. His muscles tightened up. “Who’s dead? Damn it! Tell me it’s not Elizabeth—”

“Tell me!” He repeated on a growl, dragging Chase back up his jacket again. “Where—”

Then he saw her. A petite brunette leaving the house, her hair disheveled, her face pale. She looked straight ahead.

“Elizabeth!” Jason released Chase immediately, almost throwing him aside as he broke past the police line and ran up the walk. “What—”

Then he saw the silver at her wrists, the hand of a cop on her arm. He stopped dead, almost not understaning what he was looking at.

She looked at him, her eyes black pools against her face, her pale skin the color of chalk lit under the harsh street lights. “Jason,” she managed.

“What the hell is going on? Where are the boys?”

“I can’t—” Her voice trembled. “I did—”

“No—” With a sudden rise of dread, Jason sliced his hand down in front of him. Because whatever she was being accusd of, he knew she hadn’t done it. Whoever was in the bag—

This couldn’t be her fault. Not Elizabeth. If the boys were missing—

“Say nothing. I’ll call Diane,” Jason ordered her. He turned back to Chase as the cop loped up to the join them. Not caring if it put him in the cell right along with Elizabeth, Jason grabbed Chase again by the jacket. “Who’s in the bag?”

Chase exhaled, but again waved off the cops who almost jumped forward to drag Jason away. “Franco Baldwin. He’s dead.” He nodded to Elizabeth who just closed her eyes. “And she killed him.”

Jason blinked at him, shaking his head, then looked back at Elizabeth, taking in everything he hadn’t seen before.

The splashes on her tank top, the torn strap—

The blood staining her hands.

She lifted her chin. “Damn right, I did.”

June 3, 2020

This entry is part 1 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Alternate Universe. Written in 20ih minutes (give or take a bit considering I got a tornado warning about 4 minutes in and had to pause, LOL.) No time for editing!

California, mid-1870s

Elizabeth Lewis smiled tightly as she gripped the hand of her four-year-old son and tried to move around the obstacle standing between her and the general store.

“I wish you’d reconsider, Bethie—”

That wasn’t her name, and it was incredibly rude to address her so informally, but Elizabeth had learned long ago that if you just let Richard Lansing talk, he’d eventually run out of things to say.

Trouble was that the relentless banker not only didn’t know when he wasn’t welcome, he couldn’t take no for an answer. This was the fifth time she had rejected his proposal of marriage since the death of her husband the previous winter.

“There is nothing to consider, Mr. Lansing. If you will just allow me to pass—”

“Now, Bethie—” Richard smiled at her, his brown eyes oozing warmth with that charming smile a woman who didn’t know better might melt beneath. “Just hear me out—”

“I have heard you out. On multiple occasions—”

“Mama?”

“A moment, Cameron,” she murmured to her son, glancing down at his beloved face. Elizabeth turned her attention back to the smarmy banker. “I said no when I was seventeen, Mr. Lansing, and I have continued to say no for the last eight years.”

“I won’t be asking forever—” Richard threatened as she finally managed to push past him and move towards Jones’ Emporium. “You aren’t the only woman out there.”

Elizabeth ignored them as they ducked inside the store. The fact of the matter was that women were still not thick on the ground in this part of California. They were a lifetime away from the glitz and glitter of San Francisco and Sacrementa, located near the Sierra Nevada. The only fancy thing about Diamond Springs was its name.

“Good afternoon, Elizabeth,” Barbara Jones said with a cheerful smile. “And young Master Cameron! How would you like a peppermint stick?”

“Oh—” Elizabeth pursed her lips as the redheaded prioprieter lifted the lid of a glass jar. “Just this once, Cameron. Tell Mrs. Jones thank you.”

“Thank you,” Cameron managed even as he licked the candy.

“I have your order ready. Just give me a moment.” Barbara turned to one of the shop assistants. “Kyle, go and get Mrs. Lewis’s packages.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’ll be out in just a jiffy.” Barbara’s smile faltered slightly. “We haven’t seen you in town for a few weeks. Everything all right out on the ranch?”

Ranch. What silly name for the patch of land Elizabeth struggled to maintain three miles outside city limits. She had a small herd of cattle, three horses, and a cottage whose roof might last another winter if they were lucky.

It was all she had left of her father and the only inheritance she had for Cameron, so Elizabeth was determined to hold on to it long enough for him to make something out of it. “We’re managing. Have I missed anything interesting? Anything new in town?” She knew priming Barbara to share gossip would deflect attention from her.

“Oh…” Barbara’s smile turned sly. “We have an new sheriff arriving on the train from Sacremento at the end of the week.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Elizabeth murmured. “Cameron, don’t eat all of that right now—”

“He’s a hometown boy coming home to do good by his grandmother. You should stop by before you leave town. I’m sure Lila will tell you all about it.”

Lila.

Elizabeth exhaled slowly before turning back to Barbara, forcing a smile on her face. “Lila? Lila Quartermaine? It’s her grandson? I—” She cleared her throat. “I thought that he was working on the trains.”

Or that had been the reason he’d told her before leaving Diamond Springs eight years earlier. She could still see his easy, shy smile and friendly blue eyes as he promised to write her.

As he promised to come back for her.

“We all did, but I guess he took up with the Marshalls at some point.” Barbara shrugged. “Whatever the case, it looks like Jason Morgan is coming home.”

Elizabeth managed a smile even as her stomach rolled.

She doubted he was coming back for her after all this time, and after eight years of no word—

Would he even remember?

September 28, 2019

This entry is part 7 of 9 in the Flash Fiction: 25 Minutes or Less

Alternate Universe. Written in 25ish minutes.  It has no title because I am bereft of inspiration. Maybe one day.

From the minute Jason Morgan walked through the doors of the Queen of Angels church after a year of being away from Port Charles, he could tell that something was seriously wrong.

Even more wrong than the reason he’d ended his global travels and hurried back to his hometown after an upset phone from one of the men who had stepped up as Sonny Corinthos’ right hand man in the organization after Jason had decided he’d devoted enough of his life to violence and mayhem. He’d needed to get out. Desperately.

There had been a shooting at the penthouse where Sonny lived with his wife, Brenda, and tragically, his boss’s beloved wife had died. Sonny was inconsolable, no one could find their doctor to take care of him, and worse—no one could understand how Anthony Moreno’s men had managed to penetrate their security and made it to the top floor of the apartment building.

But when he returned to Port Charles, just in time for the memorial, he saw immediately the rot that had set in since he’d left. There was no security on the church, and the men that sat with Sonny up front weren’t looking around—weren’t aware of their surroundings.

Jason slipped into the back pew where Johnny O’Brien sat, leaning back with his arms folded. “Any word?”

Johnny shook his head, silently as the priest at the front of the church continued to drone on. Most of the congregation had tuned out of the long Latin mass that Sonny had insisted on. “Some sort of breach in the security room. The cameras were off in the entire building. And Sonny got rid of the parking garage guards, so—” He jerked a shoulder. “The doc is still missing in action, and that’s weird, Jase. He never would have taken off like this. Not with Brenda—”

Johnny exhaled slowly. “He took care of her after the miscarriage six months ago, you know? And I just can’t seem him not even—”

“Wait, he’s missing completely?” Jason hissed under his breath. “How—he works at the hospital—”

“He hasn’t shown up for a shift since the shooting. Some of the guys think maybe he did this—but nah, no way—” Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I was finishing up the Puerto Ric run when it happened. By the time I got back, no one wanted to talk about it. Sonny isn’t even demanding that many answers about the security breach.”

“He could just be…” Jason trailed off. He exchanged a look with the other man as they both remembered Sonny’s breakdowns. He’d been diagnosed with bipolar disorder two years earlier, but had refused to go on any medicine. Had refused that sign of weakness. Brenda had always been good at keeping him even and balanced, but— “I shouldn’t have left,” he said roughly.

“You had your reasons,” Johnny murmured. “I know how much Michael meant to you—” He broke off, leaned past Jason as someone new lingered in the door way. “Oh. Did you know she was coming?”

Jason followed his friend’s gaze and saw the petite young brunette standing there, hesitantly, her eyes searching. When she saw them in the back pew, she bit her lip and approached them. Johnny immediately slid down, and Jason followed, keeping himself very still and maintaing at least six inches between himself and Elizabeth Webber, Steven Webber’s favorite sister and…

“Thanks,” Elizabeth said, flashing a white smile at them, her eyes darting around the church, her fingers trembling as they were clutched around the strap of her black clutch. “I, um, I haven’t heard from Steven—and the news—I just—I was worried. So I flew in from Boston—” She stopped, looking at her hand where his eyes had also gone. At the slim golden band and diamond ring on her fourth finger.

“I’m sorry—” Elizabeth started to yank it off, but Jason stopped her, covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, dully.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jason said. “Elizabeth—” He grimaced, then turned to Johnny. “O’Brien, go find somewhere else to sit. Now.”

When Johnny had slunk away, Elizabeth drew in her bottom lip, her teeth sinking in. “You haven’t seen Steven have you? He said you were away, but you’re back now—”

“I just got in this morning. And, no, I haven’t talked to Steven in months.” And if Steven Webber wasn’t in touch with his sister, then—

“I’m scared,” Elizabeth admitted, as she stared forward, down the long aisle of the church, down the thirty or forty pews that lay between them and the altar with the white coffin decorated with flowers. “I really can’t lose someone else I love.” She glanced at him, and for a moment—they were united as the parents they’d been a year earlier when their son had died. Then she looked away, her lips pressed tightly together.

He’d woken from the accident with a blank memory and pretty woman claiming to be his wife and the mother of his child. He’d pushed her away, but Michael was different. He’d fallen in love with his son. Until the day they’d lost him, and any chance of rebuilding a life with her had slipped away.

It had been Jason’s fault their son was dead.

And, maybe, indirectly, it would be his fault Steven Webber was missing.

June 19, 2019

This entry is part 6 of 9 in the Flash Fiction: 25 Minutes or Less

The ending is a little wonky because I ran out of time. Written in 23 minutes.

Stefanie Webber was going to see her father whether he—or her mother—liked it or not. For her entire life, they’d waited for him. Waited for him to call, waited for him to visit, waited for him to leave, to go back to the city where they were, for some reason, never allowed to visit. Oh sure, her mother had always told her that one day Stef would understand. Love was complicated.

But she was fourteen now and really tired of hearing she’d understand when she was the older. As her oldest brother had always told her, that was just some shit adults told you to get you off their back. Well, Stef was done waiting for answers from her mother, and since her father wasn’t expected to come back to San Diego until her birthday in July, showing up on his doorstep in April might shock him enough to explain why the hell he lived somewhere else if he loved her mother so damn much.

Her mother didn’t often let Stefanie out of her sight overnight—her brothers told her that was mostly their fault—Jake had apparently been kidnapped twice as a kid and Cameron had never met a curfew in high school he hadn’t broken. But every once in a while, she could convince her mom to let her sleep over Trisha’s house, and this time—she’d managed to convince Trish to cover for her at least until Saturday morning.

Because by then she’d be in Port Charles and would have confronted her father about never being around and she wouldn’t need a cover story anymore.

Of course all of that had seemed like a great idea until her layover in Chicago had screwed everything else. Her connecting flight had been cancelled and they couldn’t get her on a new one until the next morning. Which meant she’d be in the air right about the time she was supposed to be home from Trisha’s house.

It couldn’t be helped, Stef told herself, as she got into the taxi that would take her from the airport to her father’s penthouse — his address had been ridiculous easy to find. She’d found it on his driver’s license three years ago.

She turned on her phone…just to see if she’d gotten away with it so far and found that she had four missed calls and three texts—as well as a text from her oldest brother, Cameron. She wrinkled her nose, weighed her bets, and called Cameron.

“Stef, Mom is flipping out. You turned off your location on your phone—”

“Hello to you, too, Cam,” Stef said with a roll of her eyes as the taxi turned towards the downtown area with its taller buildings. “So she doesn’t know where I am yet?”

“She doesn’t, but only because I didn’t tell her you’ve been asking questions about Dad again.” Cameron waited a moment. “What the hell, Stef—are you just going to show up on his doorstep?”

“That’s the general idea. Don’t you think it’s strange we’ve never been allowed to come to see him? He has family here. I know he does. Why don’t we get to know him?”

“This isn’t the way to figure it out—”

“Sorry, Cam. The taxi is dropping me at his apartment building now. You can tell Mom all you want. It’s not going to stop me.”

Fifteen flights above, Jason Morgan was having a terrible morning. It hadn’t started that way, but the people in his life always knew how to screw things up. He leaned back against his pool table and listened to his third visitor of the day throw the second tantrum she’d had that week. His first two visitors were still there, listening and throwing in their advice. Like always.

The knock on his door made him grimace. He could only imagine who was here this time. He walked away from the trio in his living room and pulled the door open.

“Dad?” His daughter blinked up at him with her mother’s blue eyes, and shoved her dark hair out of her eyes. “Um. Hi.”

“Dad?” one of the women behind him demanded. “What the hell—”

Jason scowled and turned back. “Sam—”

“Wait, a second—” the other woman said. She strode forward to get a better look at Stefanie who shrunk back from both of them. “Who the hell—”

“Dad?” Stefanie repeated, more hesitantly now, taking a step back. “What’s going on?”

“Stefanie—” He sighed, dipped his head, then took her by the elbow and led her into the penthouse living room. “Stefanie, this is Sonny and Carly Corinthos. And that’s Sam.”

“Sam,” Stefanie repeated, flicking a glance at her father, as if questioning why Sam didn’t have a last name.

“Sam Morgan, his wife,” Sam snapped. Stefanie paled as Jason shot her a dark look.

“Ex-wife,” Jason growled. “For sixteen years. Don’t start, Sam.” He looked back at Stefanie with her wide eyes, then sighed. “This is Stefanie Webber. My daughter.”

“Webber?” Carly screeched as Sonny smirked and Sam scowled.

“You wanted to know the reason I never came to live in San Diego?” Jason asked with a sigh. “Because they would have followed me.”