Just a good old fashioned hard drive harvest that I can't think of a title for. The blizzard drowns out the sound and fury. A madman walks blindly through the snowstorm, flailing and sweeping the heavy flakes which heed him not. A candle might burn only inches from him, but he'll never know. Meanwhile, a … Continue reading untitled
Category: Fiction
Happy Birthday, Mr. So&So
A fictional story Do you remember the old church next to the school where I met you? I don’t go anymore, not for many years, but someone told me that there was a feast day celebration, and I realized it was your birthday. I thought to myself, well, if this isn’t auspicious, what is? So … Continue reading Happy Birthday, Mr. So&So
I Never Made Lunch For Mother.
A story I. It is early spring. Sunbeams and a soft breeze drift through the open window and settle on my quilt. Last night’s cup of chamomile tea is half-empty and ice cold. The tea is not the only thing in the room that’s cold. I have just awakened. I lie in bed in the … Continue reading I Never Made Lunch For Mother.
Ranch houses and cherry blossoms
A random poem. Sorry I can't be who you thought I wasI won't say who you wantedBecause I don't knowAnd that's the whole problemYellow ranch house and telephone wiresCrumbling stairsAnd an ancient carI just can't understand itCryptic blossoms, less than one percentCyber distance I still rememberPerplexedBecause I have a cherry treeWith blossomsBut no cherries.
Perspective (editing project thing)
Last time, I realized that the whole story, all forty thousand words, has to be rewritten in the first person perspective. I don't know that I'd say things are going "swimmingly" because it's mildly tedious, yet many issues are smoothing out quite nicely. I am happy to report that certain of the most cringeworthy dialogue … Continue reading Perspective (editing project thing)
Be still, my pounding, leaping, A-fib heart (November Editing Project)
As I go along, I've realized there are two components to my editing: the editing of the work and the editing of my mindset. At first I was going to log the needed changes, but I quickly saw that that would be a novel unto itself. To sum up what I've done so far—my first … Continue reading Be still, my pounding, leaping, A-fib heart (November Editing Project)
November Editing Project Thing (really half-ass nanowrimo)
In a recent post, I wrote about some piece of shit writings I am working on. Piece of shit the lesser is going to fall by the wayside for now except if I get bored and decide to put it out of its misery. I learned in September that having a goal that I need … Continue reading November Editing Project Thing (really half-ass nanowrimo)
Heaven’s just a bus ride away.
A story. Fiction. Yeah, fiction. I With steady hands, Greta gripped her lunch tray, and through the crowds of jerkoff jocks and bimbo clones, pimply nerds and green-haired freaks, she marched to her empty table in the cafeteria. They were no more to her than noise. She laid down the tray and took a pad … Continue reading Heaven’s just a bus ride away.
A Cut and Color.
A story.. “Put it on,” she said, with one wave of her cigarette. I obediently put it on. The necklace had an oval turquoise stone set into a silver fleur-de-lis. She was taking a deep drag as I did so. She exhaled. “Yes, that looks very nice with your new hair.” I remember the first … Continue reading A Cut and Color.
Histrionics (writing prompt.)
You call me a bitch, Say I'm hysterical, Look like a witch, Being heretical. Stomp like a child, Screech, make no sense. Look at that girl--pretty, mild-- I'm wrapped too tight, way too tense. But I think it's pretty ironic, You're flailing your arms, Shrieking I'M histrionic. I discovered this prompt on the blog The … Continue reading Histrionics (writing prompt.)
Jamie Vu
Contact occurred unexpectedly. I had been heading for the originally mapped coordinates. My target was a young man named Jamie Vu. I planned to land shortly after midnight during deep delta-wave sleep before it segued into the REM stage, which would provide cover for me should he awaken during the transfer process. “….so I’m sorry, … Continue reading Jamie Vu
Excuse me you got a little something there. #SepSceneWriMo.”
A first chapter of I don't know what written for "September Scene Writing Month." Warning: contains received language. Feedback welcome. Marianne had overslept, but it didn’t really matter. She pulled on her yellow uniform t-shirt and sat down at the wooden desk which doubled as her vanity, decorated only with a small crystal lamp she … Continue reading Excuse me you got a little something there. #SepSceneWriMo.”
To grandmother’s house we go: #SepSceneWriMo
She woke up with sweat trickling down the sides of her face into her ears. A strange night. Bad dreams. It was gross but why worry about it? She changed and went back to bed. It happened again a few nights later. Well, the weather was getting very warm now, and she was still using … Continue reading To grandmother’s house we go: #SepSceneWriMo
Who the Hell Knows? 
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