I got caught up in this trying to do a flash fiction challenge. The challenge was pick a random image and write a 1,000 word story on it in a week. Mine was the castle you see in attached to this entry.
I've had a few things moving around in my head for a long time. The last two months, I've been able to do some reorganizing. Call it mental spring cleaning.
The older one released the cylinder and spun it once. Then he tipped it back, emptying the six chambers of the cylinder. Then he let one shimmering, gold bullet in between his black-dirty thumb and forefinger, and loaded one chamber.
Donald Trump has been in office a couple of weeks, and he is already redefining the words "failure" and "disaster" as they relate to presidential leadership. Honestly, I've never seen anything like it. But I am also a little bit hopeful.
We devoured this book. Each night with me, we read a chapter. They're relatively short, four or five pages, and so each story is just long enough for a before-bedtime read.
I do believe that the arc of the moral universe bends towards justice, but change does take time, and it's often a fight.
In this line of work, you have to know when to use the carrot, and when to use the stick. Thud was nearly twice my size though probably a month younger. All he’d have to do is fall over on me, even a little bit, and I’m pretty sure I’d break. I motioned O’Shaughnessy to watch lookout – see any of the Biggies coming back into the room, distract. He knew what to do.
The older bald man sits in a light-rose wingback chair. What look like two security guards stand behind him, motionless. They haven't taken off their sunglasses yet. It doesn't look like they're going to.