misty gray day –
waiting on a long
funeral procession
#quikfic 76
The mouse skittered across the floor, and I tossed it a piece of cheese. It was the only visitor I ever had. Best to be friends.
Quotable 176
I never think when I write; nobody can do two things at the same time and do them well.
– Don Marquis
haiku 288
little rabbit
comes to the white line
lets us pass
Author’s Note: To the Least of These
Today, cuts take effect that slash the amount of help more than 47 million needy Americans receive in nutritional assistance each month. The Congress, in its finite wisdom, is debating how much more to cut: The Democrats want to cut only “some,” and the Republicans want to cut through the bone and out the other side.
This is the real-world scenario that yesterday’s story is allegory to.
I’ll leave it to you to make the connections and will say nothing further save this: If our government accurately reflects who we are as a people, then we are a heartless, amoral bunch of bastards.
#quikfic 75
The ghost has a new trick: screaming in your ear while you’re on the stairs. I kept from dropping the baby or landing on her.
Fiction: Down on Luck
George set his newspaper down and went to answer the knock at the front door. There sat a white rabbit.
“Begging your pardon, sir. My name is Conor, and I’m looking for any sort of odd jobs you might have so I can feed my family.”
“I don’t have anything that needs done around here. Sorry.” He prepared to close the door, but his wife’s voice stopped him.
“Who’s at the door, George?”
“A rabbit. Wanting work.”
Shirley’s head appeared in the doorway. “Ooh! What a beautiful rabbit.”
“Thank you, m’am.”
“And look at those big feet. I’ve always wanted a rabbit’s foot. For good luck.
Conor looked down at his front feet. “Have you now?”
Quotable 175
Whether a story is told on the page or on the screen, the same elements are required. You’ve got to have characters you can identify with, and there’d better be trouble brewing somewhere. Whatever these people’s lives have been before, they’re about to change in a big way. That’s what stories are all about.
– Jenny Wingfield
haiku 287
chilly night –
running the little fan
for white noise
#quikfic 74
Rafael fell down the stairs and broke both his legs and an arm. His rose-colored glasses had kept him from seeing the broken step.