He looked away from the waterfall and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m not ready. I don’t understand.”
The water tumbled and flashed, as if laughing at him. Continue reading
He looked away from the waterfall and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m not ready. I don’t understand.”
The water tumbled and flashed, as if laughing at him. Continue reading
A bowl of nuts dominated the coffee table, a nutcracker standing sentry, ready for service. Three wooden bowls with three types of crackers surround the cheese log, like wise men around The Child. Continue reading
She’d traversed the mountain, her skis crackling and sparking as she streaked down the final slope. Just a few kilometers more across the icy flatlands; she would reach the Hold before full sunrise. Continue reading
Act 1
(A moment of peace, the calm in the eye of the storm.)
Just a few short hours ago, there‘d been a clatter of metal against glass, the whine of motors rotating through a thick sludge, the wet thunk of an awkward body, a snip and rustle of evisceration, the rasp of metal on metal, and a clang of slamming doors.
“I think we’ve done all we can for now.” Karen wipes her brow and surveys the damage. “When are the troops supposed to arrive?”
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
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Independent Publisher of Poetry and Prose
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Live music in St Paul Minnesota
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Stories and thoughts about being a queer girl geek in the 21st Century.