NO, not that one, I try to scream.
But of course, I can’t scream. I can screech, I can scratch like the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. I can grit my metal teeth, and I can stutter mid-way between too many pages.
But I can’t scream.
I understand her frustration. I’ve chewed up draft after draft of that dang story she’s writing. Continue reading
Dark is night, night is just right
As I set my broom aside
with a thought so candle bright
My glowing eyes I can’t hide.
I want to follow her instructions. I want to blow her away with my flexibility and flair and fleetness of foot.
But she laughs gently, rolling her eyes in a sweet way. In a way that tells me I’m failing, but she thinks I’m pretty darn cute, trying to do what she does.
I try to explain to her – Look at my posture! Look at my pose and poise! But her reply is a tad condescending despite her touch of forgiveness. Continue reading
The older I get, the more days I want to my week.
Eight days a week would be a great start. I think I’ll call my extra day – WONDER DAY.
One day just to wonder. Continue reading
Debra unties the ribbon around the mysterious box and slowly opens it. Her puzzled look doesn’t leave her face when the side door rams open and two men enter. (https://roughwighting.net/2018/09/28/strangers-in-the-dark/)
“If you want to help your friend,” the stockiest man growls, “empty the box and show us the rest.”
Debra laughs, but not with humor. “Are you kidding me? You must be the agent Eugene told me about last week.”
The man’s face falls as flat as a bad soufflé. “He told you about me?” Continue reading
