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my body is wearymy mind in a fogi hear the barkingof a far away dog i open the doorwith rifle in towand step with bare feetinto the cold wet snow yet i do not noticebecause from all aroundcomes the incessant barkingof an aged red hound i cannot find the directionfrom which it is comingand i do not even noticehow quickly my feet are numbing i trek across my landlooking for the tracksthat will lead me to this beastwhen i notice the pain in my back and suddenly i come to knowi cannot feel my feetbut to rid myself of this monsterwould bring me a sense of peace i can no longer feel painin these tired old feet of mineit has long since left my calvesand started its trek up my spine i look back towards homeonly to … Read entire article »
Filed under: I'm No Poe
What genre best describes your work?
Recently I filled out an application – I guess one would call it more a questionnaire than an application, really – to contribute to an as of yet unnamed online magazine. For those of you who know that this very morning I submitted a query to Write Anything to become a regular columnist, no, it wasn’t Write Anything. First on the list was my name and the pseudonym I would like to be published as. I found this one amusing as it was one, the very first question and two, I have a long history of using aliases. I have anonymous e-mail addresses and even regular mail correspondence where I use the names Jim Beam and Jack Daniels. I’ve often wondered if anyone has ever looked at the names and what … Read entire article »
Filed under: On Writing
When Love Walks In
The breeze caught the nape of my neck when she walked through the door. A gentle red glow from the exit sign above it shone down on me in the dim light, illuminating my paper like a twisted lightning bug. The shadow she cast as she passed me caught my attention, morphing into the shape of a butterfly – the very subject of my thesis – fluttering its way across the face of my paper. It was that which truly hooked me, the ethereal feel I got from her when I felt the slight shuffle of air on my arm as her leg passed inches from it. I looked up into the pale light from the chandelier to find a faded silhouette drawing to a destination unknown amidst the tables beyond. … Read entire article »
Filed under: Writings
late that nightwhen the last spark diedi looked right at herinside i died late that nightwhen the fireworks were donei looked backat what i had done we were so closeone time beforei cannot believewe are no more Originally posted 2008-06-23 07:14:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter … Read entire article »
Filed under: I'm No Poe
Fiction Friday #165
This week’s Fiction Friday prompt: Pick two established characters, either from your own work or others’. Now write the scene/story of their meeting. I had loads of fun with this prompt, writing it during two lunch breaks and finishing it up tonight. This is by far my longest Fiction Friday story to date. The character William Storey is one of my own creation, from The Tale of William Storey found in Seven Days of Terror – sorry, you’ll have to buy the book if you want to read it. I decided it would be fun to have him meet my favorite Stephen King character, Roland of Gilead of the Dark Tower series. I hope you enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. Through the spot glass he took … Read entire article »
Filed under: Fiction Friday
Allow me to introduce my shorts!
For the past few days I have been toying around with an idea, mentally batting at it with my paw and watching it swing tauntingly back and forth in front of me like a cat’s toy telling me to go for it on every tick and to forget it on every tock. What good is going for it, trying to achieve success, if you’re too chicken-shit to put yourself out there and take risks? My grandmother is the one who talked me into writing again, hence the reason I dedicated Seven Days of Terror to her; and I took that plunge, put myself out there, and you know what? It wasn’t that bad. In fact, it wasn’t bad at all. I’ve had nothing but good reviews on my first contribution … Read entire article »
Filed under: Writings
Fiction Friday #162
This week’s Fiction Friday prompt: Write about a man with an impossibly bad streak of luck on his birthdays, who, as his 40th birthday approaches, is scared of what might happen. A lonely man paces nervously to and fro across a small room, barely ten feet by twelve feet. His bed is folded down from the wall; it has a hinge on the one side and is supported on the other end by chains. He can fold it up when he needs space for exercise. A steel toilet is hidden from our view in the far corner by a small knee wall. In the other corner a curtain dangles haphazardly from a curved rod suspended from the ceiling. This rod serves both as his shower curtain rod and his chin … Read entire article »
Filed under: Fiction Friday
be my candlelight my waybe my pathso i cannot stray be my tearswhen i crybe my lifeso i cannot die Originally posted 2008-07-14 20:30:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter … Read entire article »
Filed under: I'm No Poe
Fiction Friday #166
This week’s Fiction Friday prompt: A covert trip into an attic reveals something unexpected. I felt the need to pay homage to my favorite author again in this week’s Fiction Friday story. I have been wanting to write a story about this very subject for some time and I don’t know, it just seemed to fit. And this is what I threw together. A young freckle faced red head lad crept stealthily from his shared quarters at the Broddick School for Boys that fateful night. He had heard of the mirror in the attic, the one that could take you to places you can only dream to go. It was his mission that night to infiltrate the attic – it was a rarity to ever hear of a student who had – and find … Read entire article »
Filed under: Fiction Friday
Fiction Friday #200
This week’s Fiction Friday prompt: Use the image to the right as your inspiration. Through squinted eyes I could make out the image of a lone bulb swaying to and fro from its mount above, animating shadows around the room I couldn’t see. My head throbbed; I knew not how I got there. It looked like a pale, faded sun rocking back and forth in the cold night sky. Why was the world around this little sun so dark? Where was the light? It reminded me of a rendering of the solar system I saw in grade school; the sun, sitting there bright and mighty amid a sea of little white dots. I felt like the man painting the picture I saw so long ago, viewing the sun from so far away, … Read entire article »
Filed under: Fiction Friday
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