Annalisa stared down at the menu, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple in the dim light of late night. The other pages were just as crowded with options, all of them equally unappetizing, but she knew she had to make a decision, and knew that Rory, sitting opposite her at the patio table, was beetling his brows and tugging at his walrus-like mustache. As was his habit, he waited in judgment, ready to trumpet his corrections to whatever choice she might make. Continue reading
(I have no idea where this Flash came from, but…uh…OK)
Hugo’s belly pangs rumbled down the dark mountains above Heffinger Hollow, and he was tempted to nibble on a half-cooked morsel of the spunky spelunkers that frequented the Carbuncle Caverns. The spelunkers, per usual, had zigged when they should have zagged, and fallen deep into the bowels of the caverns; deadly for them, but an easy reach for Hugo. Continue reading
Source: Rob Swanson Photography
(Full Version)
She clambers atop the cardinal’s shoulders
Gently hooks soft knees over scarlet wings
Grasps the longest feathers of his crest
They were nearing the prescribed percentage for herd immunity, but people were impatient and downright cranky, and as a result of that – well, that and the economy — restrictions were being lifted for those fully vaccinated. Continue reading
“Mom, Bobbi and I split up. I’m coming home to get my head together,” Toni’s voice crackled over the phone. “She kicked me out. Good thing I never signed the lease.” Continue reading
Life in progress
Write or write not - there is no aspiring.
Poetry and Commentary that Smells
poetry, fiction, art, books, retro
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
It's All True, None of It's True. Don't Ask.
Words of a clarklike female
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
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Fiction Writing
