What does the story say to you when you are blind to all else but the words?
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Thankfully, whatever Muse keeps me company has also kept me in good quantity of Big Magic and ideas are never too far away when I reach for them.
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Suspect Frederick Hart blinked back at him from his restraints. A tough one, eh. Well, Detective Holt would just have to up his game.
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‘No shoes,’ I grinned, wriggling my toes as wonder swept through my chest, filling it with light, delicious air.
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One weekend, three stories, 2,450 words. * Image Credit: http://d4n13l3.deviantart.com/art/Only-a-spaceship-196544367
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I wouldn't be surprised if one day I wake up and find that Jasper actually has taken off to the drive-through.
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A micro fiction about my experience snorkelling at Noumea.
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There is a moment of silence - brief and overshadowed - a hush that falls just before the rumble of noise begins. A feeling grows in the momentary quiet (which is not quite silence but rather anticipation). There is a noise to anticipation. A hum. A buzz that starts in your feet and builds to your chest, igniting in your soul. Lights go up, the sound check crackles and a voice cat calls. A single, solitary call. But not for long.
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Sometimes it only takes a small irritant to ignite a big explosion.
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After “The incident” they’d taken Fran away, and now Eve was stuck with an identity confused bonsai plant.
