Miss Kathryn, Young Francis & Mr Scar_The New Year’s Eve_You Can't Kill Those Suckers_&q
Catalog Guide:
Miss Kathryn, Young Francis & Mr Scar
Knowledge of the brush and the great works of literature, of Rabelais, Voltaire and Dante, who were in truth his greatest and deepest friends, his strongest affections, meant our young Francis attracted many a person to hear him speak. His fine memory and depth of recollection was only matched by the delicacy of his countenance and earnestness of his constitution. He was as fine as the flowers which he recited in the psalms of Keates and Byron. And so he went, from room to room in the university, offering tales to anyone who would listen. He was in truth, a person born for another time in ever...
The New Year’s Eve
Eleanor leaned in as the clock struck midnight and pressed her lips against Mark’s. It had been a long and tumultuous journey to get to this moment, but it had all been worth it. They had met three and half years ago at a coffee shop downtown. Eleanor had recently finished her law degree and was there to study for her bar exam. She sat at a table and nervously stared at her laptop, reviewing some bar test samples. Questions were tricky and hard to answer. And her anxiety level increased with each wrong answer she gave to a question. When Eleanor was at the height of her anxiety, loathing hers...
You Can't Kill Those Suckers
February 20, 2023 Suzanne Clement 325 Lakeview Ct Runaway Bay, TX 76426 817(944-8354) qsuzyq@live.comWord Count: 1180Writing prompt #335: Write a story entirely of dialogue.You Can’t Kill Those Suckers By Suzanne Clement“I don’t care what they say, you can’t kill those suckers.” “What?” “I’ve had many years of experience with the little boogers. They just keep coming back year after year after year. It’s like the gift that keeps on givin’.” “Year after year. Being kind of dramatic, aren’t you? No? Personally, I can’t say that I’ve tried to kill those little suckers on purpose.” “The only reaso...
"Dear Satan"...
The day is dark when you awake. In complete honesty, it's nothing new, the black smog rolling off your pointed towerwww.onedoor.cc turrets. It doesn't surprise you. Neither does the occasional scream as a soul rushes past your cracked bedroom window; the house is just plain stuffy were you to close it. No, none of this is new to you. Another long, long day in Hell. Yes, that's a capital H. When you're the devil, things get old fast. Really fast. Like breakfast. Your morning tea boils over, staining the crisp, red suit you so painstakingly put on. It didn't do wonders for your thighs, so it's a relief to ge...