While I don’t necessarily enjoy photo taking, it does lead to sticky fingers.
Continuing on with my storyin12 shorts. Supposed to be a drabble, but it turned into flash instead. – She sat in the pew, her face bowed in prayer. Surrounded by those in their Sunday best, she appeared the church-goer actively seeking the Lord. The priest continued in Latin, signaling the congregation to kneel on the …
There’s something in the water. The murky, leaf littered lake could appear serene during the daylight, but the evil lurking beneath couldn’t be truly hidden. It’s the beauty of the place that tricks you. It’s meant to appear innocent, the trees hanging lazy over the water. It attracts people in the summer, the water inviting …
Today’s drabble for the Storyin12. I’m over today, sorry. – My husband thought he hid his fetish behind being stereotypical Vietnamese family running a nail salon. This was about satisfying a craving. He tried not to be too obvious that he walked around with a massive erecting, but I saw. There was one customer he …
Another drabble with the Storyin12 today – She never meant for him to find that letter. Twenty-two years of relatively happy marriage. He’d never been the love of her life, but she let him believe he was her everything. He’d insisted on cleaning the attic that summer evening. Seeing that notebook paper in his hand …
A 100 word drabble using today’s storyin12 prompt word. – He was head of the vice squad. Touting himself as hard on prostitution, he came down on girls and Johns alike. A pious hard ass, he punished all who stepped out of line. He said he was saving lives. His subordinates didn’t get to see …
Writing exercise. – I lost enough that I don’t feel too bad about killing people. The government turned me into a trained killer, and I made a career of being able to take a man down from just under two thousand meters. The military owned me and my trigger finger for fifteen years. When I …
I’ve always considered writing more than a hobby. It’s my form of communicating because often I feel like I’m not a good communicator. The other part is I can’t seem to say how I feel or what I’m feeling out loud well. When I write it out, it makes sense. For the longest time, because …