I think of the Thanksgiving holiday as boot camp. Just a few days of intensive training to get you ready for the real thing. Over the next four weeks my stomach muscles will be sorely tested. There will be parties to attend, company dinners…
Last Friday night I had the great pleasure of being in the company of seven (count ‘em – 7) fellow Fictioneers. To my knowledge, eight is largest congregation of Fictioneers ever assembled in the same venue at one time. I kept looking out the window,…
This post is dedicated to my wife, Connie, who chose to marry me on January 11, 1975. It’s not always been easy, but things worth having are worth the effort. Lord knows, she could have done a lot better, and I married way out…
I’ve always wanted to use the name Madge in a story. Thanks to Rochelle, and her intriguing photo, I finally get my chance. Some of you may remember Madge as the beautician who soaked her client’s fingers in Palmolive dishwashing detergent to make them…
I’m not at all knowledgeable when it comes to art. It wasn’t even available as a minor when I attended the University of Hard Knocks. The closest I came to collecting art was three Vargas girl pin-ups from 1973. Here’s my interpretation of this…
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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And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.