That Christmas I asked for a typewriter, thinking that I had found my calling, and I bashed out a few teen angst inspired poems about solitude and rainy days …
“BRAINS!” demanded Chuck, teeth gnashing and arms flailing as he thrashed to extricate him from the tangle of barbed wire around his legs and waist.
They say one should write about what one knows, so I I think I shall perhaps write about being fat.
Alex stood frozen. Looking across the empty lanes of the motorway he could see his brother’s red Mustang, crumpled and twisted, steam billowing from the radiator. His first thought was “Mum and dad are going […]
I, like most of you , am probably prone to over exaggeration. If I were to say “I am going to kill the kids if they leave a towel on the bathroom floor again” then […]
“A scotch egg is not a fruit!” Wednesday insisted forcefully, “it is an egg wrapped in sausage meat then crumbed and deep fried!”
King high, full house, empty pockets. https://nicolaauckland.com/2017/07/15/sometimes-stellar-storyteller-six-word-story-challenge-72/#comment-7859