Monday, January 21, 2019

A Dog Named Kat – New Fiction Writing by J. R. Kruze

A Dog Named Kat - New Fiction Writing by J. R. Kruze

Tragedy struck. And I never had a reason to smile after that funeral.

Or talk to anyone other than I had to. I’d rather sit in my room and re-read my Nancy Drew and Box Car Children books.

Until my Dad brought home a puppy from a farmer down the road – last of the litter. Dad got this dog to cheer me up, and give me someone to be with me while he was at work. Because I hadn’t smiled or hardly talked since the funeral

Me and my pup were a lot alike. All alone. Blond hair. So I named her Kat.

Dad thought it was my odd sense of humor. You see, my name is Kathleen, they cally me Cathy. And I always wanted a sister. Adults explain it as an “alter-ego”. What do they know – really?

When Kat started talking to me inside my mind, we got to know each other best. And soon I smiled – but just to her. There was still some things unexplained about of how my mother died. And those still made me sad.

Until Kat told me she’d help me solve that mystery…

A Dog Named Kat – New Fiction Writing by J. R. Kruze


Dad brought a puppy home today. Of course I fell in love with it right off.

Who couldn’t when it just wants to climb right up and slobber wet kisses all over my face and hands.

But I didn’t smile. I felt better, but not that much.

I just sat on the floor with her and watched her figure-out the house. Dad had brought the leftover playthings from her former home. She was the last of the litter, and her own mom had died soon after giving birth. The rest of that litter were black labs, like their mom. She was golden. The color of my own strawberry blond hair.

When I told my Dad I was going to name her Kat, I said it in my usual flat voice. The one I’d had since the funeral. The one that went along without smiling.

It made sense to me. We were both blond. We’d both lost our mom’s. My whole name was Kathleen. And maybe this cute little dog could keep me company.

“Are you serious?” Dad was smiling at me, but when my reaction didn’t change, he nodded. “OK, ‘Kat’ it is.” He pulled out a bag with water- and food-dishes for her and put them by me. And a bag of puppy food to go along.

Then patted my head. “You can put these wherever you think is best. But I’d suggest the kitchen where we can clean up after her more easily.”

Another big bag had a brand new dog bed. Just her size, plus some she could grow into. When Dad put this on the living room floor, Kat walked right over to it, walked around inside it and sniffed, then laid down. Her head went on her paws. I just watched her from where I was kneeling on the carpet.

“Well, I hope this is temporary.”

I raised my eyebrow at this voice in my head. It was coming from Kat.

“What do you think? I’d prefer to be in your room. Don’t worry, I know enough to do my business outside.”

I just nodded at Kat. My Dad was still looking at me, curious about my reaction. So he hadn’t heard Kat at all.

“Of course not. Adults lose their ability to talk with their minds when they get too old. Unless they practice all the time. But that’s OK.”

Kat sat up and looked directly at me. “Well?”

I thought back, “Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to show me your room?”

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Monday, January 14, 2019

The Saga of Erotika Jones 01 – Fiction Writing by J. R. Kruze

The Saga of Erotika Jones 01 - New Fiction Writing by J. R. Kruze

The body disappeared, the witnesses forgot their stories. And I had 24 hours to solve the mystery before all the evidence vanished.

I had no memory of how this all started. Only that I was brougth in to solve a mystery in 24 hours before I had to move to my next assignment. Because I’m a time-jumper. And I go where I’m sent.

Because I’m damned good at figuring things out. You don’t have to have a string of degrees behind your name to figure out things.

The trick is, I “borrow” someone else’s body while I’m on the job, for the time I’m here.

All I know on this job had a missing corpse already. And it happened when no one was around to see, on a government naval base in the heart of New York. Where sub-contractors came and went constantly.

I just had to solve it faster than the witnesses either “forgot” or “disappeared.”

Like I said, I had only 24 hours.

The Saga of Erotika Jones 01 – Fiction Writing by J. R. Kruze


I didn’t want to get out of bed for this new case. I felt tired, the bed was warm, and there was this hunk beside me. Broad shoulders, firm bum, sculptured abs – everything a gal could want.

Still, the phone was vibrating, it’s staccato tempo on the side table persistent and annoying.

I had my job to do. And under 24 hours, as usual, to see if I could solve this one.

So I picked that annoyance up and saw the texts that had come in for me. On her phone. My host’s.

That was the trick – I “borrowed” someone’s body and ID for the cases that came in. How they did it, the nuts-and-bolts, I didn’t really know. Nor did I know my own past – any more. Too many of these jumps had kinda swiss-cheesed my memories.

The texts were all from Sy (or “Finn”, as he sometimes referred to himself). Direct descendant from the Irish Old Ones, the Aos Si. And sometimes he said he was descended from the Menehune. It just depended which side of the planet we ended up on. He was my partner, my bar-buddy, and somehow was connected to the reason I still did this. Still, he made it interesting, and cheered me up when things got too solid and graphic.

This morning he’d texted me the body was already missing, already cleaned. Said I needed to get there quick, since we both knew the reasons – the witnesses would be “forgetting” what they saw nearly as quick.

Sy had a theory, and it was closer to true than anyone else believed – other than we who lived in the strange worlds where humans and fairies crossed paths, and where we fought the hidden wars to keep humans safe – in spite of themselves. The darker half of the faery kind were organizing for something – and these human bodies showing up and disappearing were just collateral evidence of their larger plan.

Somehow. Having a working theory, anyway, was better than having none.

My feet on the floor now, I bent to scoop up my underthings and found a too-short cotton bathrobe lay tangled in them. Slipping that on gave me some relative decency.

A few steps further found a couple of pair of pants on the floor, also tangled. Another quick bend and I snagged them both as well, all enroute to my bathroom. Looked like some ID were in them, so I could get some details about who I was and where…

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Sunday, January 13, 2019

Her Eyes – New Fiction Writing by J. R. Kruze

Her Eyes - New Fiction Writing by J. R. KruzeWhat You Don’t Know CAN Hurt You.

What You Don’t Remember Can Get You Killed.

He looked into her eyes – and forgot everything about himself.

He’d done something that night, but couldn’t remember.

And she had left him like that. Until she returned as a Homeland Security agent to save him from two cops who wanted him for questioning.

Now on the run, in disguise, his memory wasn’t returning very fast. Josh depended on this mysterious Rosa to get and keep him out of harm’s way as they travelled out of L.A. and into remote backroads of Southern California.

There’s something about her Josh doesn’t understand, or just doesn’t remember. Yet.

A paranormal action-mystery with empaths, government agencies, and psi-powers.

To solve their situation, Josh will have to recover his lost memories.

The secret is in her eyes…

Her Eyes – New Fiction Writing by J. R. Kruze


I looked into her eyes and my soul was gone.

Like I never existed in my own body. Or more like I had a different one, now.

I could feel her arms, her legs, the silky smoothness of where she shaved and where she didn’t. Medium height, brown hair, blue eyes – I knew these from looking at her from the outside. But from the inside out, your eyes didn’t have color, your hair only showed in a mirror or when you grew it long enough to pull out in front where you could see it. And you hardly felt hair growing where it shouldn’t unless you felt it for yourself.

I put my new hands around and over my new body to feel the textures, the curves. Alabaster white skin, like I’d never been out in the sun. A smooth rump, going up past dimples into a curved indent above the spine. Ribs, just below the skin, as my lungs expanded and contracted by their efforts.

And higher, to cup my own new breasts.

“Hey, watch it!” A voice came in, the hands dropped, arms straightened, fists clenched.

“Buddy, we’re in this together, for now, so keep it clean.” That voice was obviously in command.

“Who are you? What am I doing here?” I asked.

“I’m Rosa. This is my body and you are a visitor.” The voice named Rosa was tough, but as smooth as her hips that I could still feel through our knuckles.

“But what am I doing here?” I repeated.

“You’re a volunteer. Simple. You asked to be here.” Rosa replied.

“No. You’re kidding. This is slavery, this is…” My own voice halted.

Rosa turned to look at my own body. All 6 foot, 4 inches of it. Sandy hair, broad shoulders, tanned dark by the sun. Except those parts that never saw daylight. I was naked as the day I was born. And had a blank look on my face until I didn’t. Then I winked back at me, with a wry smile. That “me” then turned and walked over to the chair where I’d left my clothes. Denim pants, chambray shirt, scuffed leather boots, and a frayed and faded blue ball cap with a seed company logo on it.

…I was trapped in someone else’s body in a room that wasn’t also borrowed. Probably paid by the hour. But how long I would be in this body was another question. My ride that I came with had just left for parts unknown…

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