To say my dad loved to fish would be an understatement of epic proportions. As a youngster, I remember watching him put in ten to twelve hours of hard labor on the farm, then, after supper, gather his bait and tackle and head to the river for four or five hours of fishing.
After he retired, I heard a man ask him, “Pug, do you still fish as much as you used to?”
“Nah,” replied Dad. “I’ve cut down to once a day.”
Like Dad, I’ve spent a lot of time baiting my hook, but have not yet become a Master.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the leader of this shoal of mackerels is Bianca “Bubbles” Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Happy Halloween to friends, followers, and fellow Fictioneers. Today, I’m masquerading as a “serious” writer. I hope you find this week’s offering more of a treat than a trick.
Roy was mesmerized by her beauty. Her eyes, her lips, the way her body swayed so gracefully. In his eyes, Wanda exemplified perfection.
What Roy lacked in self-confidence, he made up for with low self esteem. The only thing they had in common was the school. She was near the top of the social ladder and he was a lowly bottom feeder. Why would she even give a boy like him a second look?
Weeks turned into months. Roy prayed for the courage to swim against the social current. His best friend and confidante, Mack, told him, “Don’t be so coy, Roy. Just ask her out.”
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Flash Fiction, and Poetry
Stories From Within
Finding ways to make words sparkle
This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
Confessions of a Delusional Maniac
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
All the Blogging That's Fit To Print
AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
A Humor Blog
Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
Straight up with a twist– Because life is too short to be subtle!
An author's perspective of mystery and more.
And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.