Sara did what she could to keep the tears back. Sitting at the edge of her king size bed, through glistening eyes she stared out the window to watch the cold purples and dark blues of dusk slowly give away to the dim warmth of the morning glow. Memories of the previous night, a sleepless night that conjoined both days into one tired stretch of time, billowed in her exhausted thoughts. Her fists clenched as she held back the tears. But, no more lying to yourself, they’ll come. They’ll come no matter how hard you fight them (read the rest of it here).
I’ve been a busy bee lately, so sorry for the lack of updates. Between setting up a Friday night D&D campaign, running the Saturday game, and working on several podcasts; there’s barely time to breathe, let alone update this website Read More
I was fired on Tuesday, Marsha left me on Wednesday, and the world ended on Thursday around seven-thirty-ish. It’s Monday now, had a few days for the apocalypse to finally sink in and now I’m utterly bored out of my wits. I can’t watch the TV, power’s been out since Friday morning, not that there was anything exciting on, all the stations were either playing late night infomercials, a news loop of the pope vanishing into a bolt of lightning, and JAG. I can’t get a proper rub-out, you know, the age of information and all its goodies tend to pamper a man. And with the power out, the beer’s already warm, so I can’t really get good and loaded while playing solitaire, now can I? I thought about driving up to the shore and watching the bits of the moon sparkle in the night sky or the first that, I’m assuming, is the burning wreckage of Canada, over Lake Erie; but traffic’s bumper to bumper with those giant insects the size of city buses crawling down Detroit Road. A whole lot of good being the last man on earth is, I’ll tell you, it’s actually pretty boring.
It’s been a while since a posted here, and it has been a pretty bumpy road. But writing, though changing here and there, hasn’t stopped. Up in the short story section I have a new tale, called Having a Beer with Death. I’ve also made it a PDF file so you can download it, for free, and read it later.
“Her black dress is tight against the curves on her body, too tight. On purpose or on accident, it isn’t something unpleasant or unwanted, at least for a guy. Tight hips, tight body, tight top squeezing her breast up and over their restraints…”
I said there was a change coming to the page, and I meant it. A while ago a friend challenged me to write something other than fantasy fiction. Though i’ve tried my hand at writing fiction based in the real world, one without trolls and mystic swords, I could never really wrap my head around anything powerful enough to craft and continue into a short story when it came to the realms of romance. I would always make it past the setting, a few characters, a couple of crafty whips of dialog, and then all of my steam would dissipate and I would just become a sad sack who doubted his abilities for hours and hours and until i finally cried myself to sleep. Whether it is because i’ve found a structure to keep me a productive writer, or because I wanted to prove that I can write outside of just one genre, I decided to take my friend up on her challenge. So here is my attempt at a ROMANTIC SHORT STORY! Either follow that link, or look for MONKEY in the Writing/Short Story section of my blog.
Feel free to share your criticism.