I get my email in Outlook. Lately, the old gal has developed amnesia—or maybe Alzheimer’s. Either way it’s bad. She no longer recognizes me. Hers is short-term memory at its worst. Sometimes she asks me for my password two or three times a day.
I always click the little box that says, “Remember this password,” but she never does. I don’t know if an update would help her, or if she’s just getting to the age where she can’t remember who people are. That’s what happens when you get old (or, so I’m told).
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our Facilitator has memory problems too. Each week I have to tell what her name is. You’d think she could remember something easy like What’s-Her-Face Wisoff-Fields? To learn how to submit your tale to the weekly collection, zip over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
copyright – Sarah Ann Hall
Dear Ma & Pa,
You was right about Aunt Ophelia and Uncle Wallace being surprised to see me. She broke out in tears and he was speechless for a couple of days. I never seen anybody so overcome with joy.
They shore got a fancy house. It’s even got an indoor toilet. There’s a big table in there with a whole bunch of jars on it. They’s so many, I didn’t know which pot to piss in.
Cousin Lucinda said if I come to her room tonight, she’d teach me a new game. I cain’t wait!
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Poetry, Flash Fiction
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.
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.
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Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
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