Heap many moons ago, I used to write. Not just movie reviews and other sundry opinions but actually tell stories. This is a snippet of something from what would have been a book called “Ring of Fire”.
Charles swirled a spoon idly around his increasingly cold cup of coffee as a young couple passed behind him. The boy was telling a story. He could tell by the look in the girl’s eyes. It reminded him a lot of he and his wife years ago when they first started dating.
He was late. Again. It might not have been so bad if it weren’t for the slight, cold, drizzling rain that felt like a storm of tiny mosquitoes against her skin. Phoebe had thought about sitting inside where it was warm and dry, but was too anxious to sit and decided against pacing in the entryway. So, she stood and shivered and waited.
The man who stood in my way was large, corpulent to put it politely. His body eclipsed the path but I knew I had to get past him. His girth was daunting; I could imagine others like me broken against him like sea foam.
Still, I had to get past him.
I could not go back.
I could not stay where I was.
The only way was through.
When the end comes and that last bit of oxygen evacuates from my lungs, Continue reading
I’m so incredibly tired of politics. On the one hand, I wish I wasn’t; it’s important to keep a hand in selecting who runs the country. However, it’s get tiring watching the endless parade of what I like to politely call “shitheels and charlatans” screeching from their obscene pulpits about how they know what’s best for us.
You know what’s best for us?
Probably not you, you power-grabbing bastards.