Dear Writers

Dear Writers,

I am happy to inform you that your work is exactly what I’m looking for in a literary experience. You painted a picture with your words. You brought figments of your imagination to life, and they became real people to me. You taught me. You made me question. You made me think. You made me care. Most of all, you made me feel something real. Whether it was excitement, joy, anger, sadness, nostalgia, or awe, you cast a spell with your words and opened my heart so that genuine emotion could be born.
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Golden September: Chapter 1

I will probably never finish this book. But I discovered a couple of chapters tonight, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that they didn’t completely suck!
I wrote this around August 2005.
I did not have access to many books back then, so my reading consisted of a lot of Stephen King and V.C. Andrews.
This was my attempt at gothic with a twist.
Continue reading “Golden September: Chapter 1”

April Showers

It was too hot in the house, too hot for spring. The room baked in late-afternoon sun. Simply breathing was calisthenics, with the air as stifling as wet wet wool. Then . . . the scent of all things April floated through the open window on a breeze kissed by the promise of rain.
There was a sound at the door, and when I opened it, a streak of tan and orange fur blew past me. He made a flying circuit through the house, circling the living room, weaving in and out of houseplants with the effortless fluidity that only a feline possesses, darting into the kitchen to sniff at leftover Mexican food and wet coffee grounds in the trash can, ignoring his food bowl, tearing up and down the hall once or twice, digging furiously in his sand box, flying back through the living room. A ribbon of purr-meows trailed him on his mad dash, maybe an invitation to play, maybe a rhetorical question about why humans would be so stupid as to stand still at such a glorious time for running. I assumed he sensed the rain coming, and wanted inside, but after a quick check of his territory, he was gone again. Continue reading “April Showers”