Just Beneath The Skin

January 5, 2017

From out of the storm walked the souls, clinging to the masks sewn on at birth and learning their roles.406522_322086917812430_414015272_n

Drenched in tears from the Earth Mother, in their arms treasures wrapped in rags like no other.

Grouping not together but alone or in mismatched pairs, waiting for the roadside snake oil men to sell their wares.

Feet shuffled along on the road of mud that was once dust, heads down low from the rain lest their hearts rust.

The salesman waited with black smiles of glee, ‘We will trap them here, they will never be free.’

When the many souls asked the price of the poisoned vision in the salesmen’s bags, they lifted dirty crooked fingers and pointed at the treasures wrapped in the rags.

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Fiction: Of Light And Shadow | The Doctor Who Companion

December 31, 2016

A little bit of holiday Doctor Who fiction to start off the new year from TomSpy and the Doctor Who Companion.

All shares, comments, and likes welcome. 

http://thedoctorwhocompanion.com/2016/12/30/fiction-of-light-and-shadow/


Of Roots & Fractals

August 6, 2016

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Throwing this out there and it was inspired by this writing prompt on Reddit.

Bob admittedly felt strange as he awoke on that Sunday morning, staring at the blue sky from his bed in his tiny one bedroom apartment, the bright sunlight forcing his eyes and his mind under the covers to try and regroup.

It felt like he got no rest at all, even though he had gotten into the habit of sleeping as much as possible, because it was better to be blissfully asleep rather than think about how lonely and isolated he was every single day of his life.

His eyes burned and his body ached as if he had been on a bender and then proceeded to start a fight in which the odds must have plainly been against him. Bob had vague recollections of a strange dream, of hands reaching out and a voice that kept telling him he had one last chance.

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Wise Thought of the Day # 1

July 16, 2016

IMAG1275“With a non fiction piece it’s how you grab people when you start it, with poetry it’s how you close it and with fiction the entire journey must be well planned and even better executed.”

In my opinion of course… 🙂


Short Fiction: The Perfect Crime

August 10, 2015

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This was originally inspired by a writing Prompt from Reddit.

Enjoy and please let me know what you think of it in the comment section:

“No good will come of this you know”

“I know…”

The couple stood over the dead body, staring down at the lifeless form at their feet. The Body was still fresh, the eyes open and accusing, the hollow stare that will one day happen to all of us when the soul vacates it’s shell.

“So what do we do now?” She asked.

“I guess we bury it, try to make sure she does not see it before she gets up.”

She looked at her watch, then up at the bedroom window on the second floor of the house.

“That only gives us a couple hours…”

“Then we better work quickly then.”

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AW Blog Chain July: Independence and Slavery

August 1, 2012

This was supposed to be part of Absolute Write’s July Blog Chain, which had the prompt, Independence and Slavery.

However, I messed it up, kind of forgot about it and then still wanted to at least show there was something there, even it was written in about two hours.

Following my post is links to the other entries for July…

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Stan & His Wife:

Stan could not believe it.

There they were, arguing out in public like they usually would do after a few drinks, middle of the night on another rainy Saturday, one where the streetlights made the rain puddles in the parking lot seem like small lakes made of liquid silver.

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Rainy Days

March 23, 2012

This post is part of the Absolute Write’s March Blog Chain, which was given the prompt: Rainy Days. Please see the links below the body of this post for the other blogs that contributed to this month’s chain.

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The dog refused to go potty.

This was a problem as it was pouring rain, windy and cold.

Alex pulled up the collar of his jacket against the wind and gave a little tug on the dog’s leash.

“Come on you dizzy dog, we have to go in, I’m freezing.”

But the Yellow lab sat down in the damp grass, staring up at his master with her ‘puppy dog’ eyes, then resumed  staring across the field towards the abandoned farmhouse and the highway beyond. Somewhere high above and off to the West, a low and ominous rumble of thunder rolled across the fields next to Alex’s house, pressing the matter.

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