Feeling rusty. Unedited writing exercise. She lived with her vivid dreams. Fantastic things that leapt from her consciousness. So vivid they were impossible to distinguish from reality. Many were harmless. Her as Rapunzel, her hair falling like an inky rope down the side of the castle as she waited for her prince to come. Or …
My story writing muscles are stiff, arthritic, and slightly anemic. This is just to help me work out some kinks mentally. Just written ruminations. — My eyes caught on her cocoa-colored legs as she slid in the cab. That denim skirt hitched to mid thigh and I swear to God I saw a flash of …
“You too fresh to be out here. You sure you ain’t with the police?” This one was a talker. She rolls her eyes, ignoring his babble as she unbuckles his belt. The clunk of metal hitting the floor seems to increase his nervous chatter. “I can’t afford to go to jail. My wife, my wife…” …