Brother and Sister_My Protagonist; an inflictor of sorrow._What's in a Name?_Fantastic Variation
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Brother and Sister
“I quit!” he said.It was so sudden and so unexpected that she didn’t know what to say. She just stared at him, mouth open so wide the wind almost blew one of her blonde pigtails in.“What– what do you mean ‘you quit’,” she said, finally finding her voice. “You can’t quit. We’re a team. We’re Maggie and Jake. Peter and Jane. Luke and bloody Leia!”He snorted and shook his head. “Not anymore. You can take on the Death Star. I can’t take it anymore. It’s too mucwww.onedoor.cch. All that singing. All the walking. The climbing. The falling. The broken bones. No. Nonononono! I’ve had enough.”He had moments like thi...
My Protagonist; an inflictor of sorrow.
*** Warning...desperately needed profanity, just a little. ***My Protagonist; an inflictor of sorrow.His names John; John Wilson. Professor Wilson to his adoring students, especially Alondra. To me he’s simply a fuck pot, an agitator, a lone saboteur of my work in progress.He is becoming the bane of my existence. Its simply not working out, he’s changed so much from chapter one…we’re just too different. He’s also the main character in my ongoing novel, “The Reasoning,” though I’m thinking of changing it to... “The life and slow death of a failed protagonist.”It would be fair to say our relatio...
What's in a Name?
New Year's Eve had arrived. The day we scroll social media to find a gazillion posts of soon to be broken promises, outright lies and ploys for attention. Thats right, it's the whole new year, new me thing. I don't hate New Year's Eve, but you have to admit, it's likely the best day of the year to post certain things on Facebook especially in the marketplace, such as all the exercise equipment, self help books and organization supplies you purchased last year. Personally, I don't own any of those things. I do, however, have something I need to get rid of soon. Something, or rather someone, nam...
Fantastic Variations on an Old Rhyme - ~A Pastiche~
Fantastic Variations on an Old Rhyme~A Pastiche~Scritch-scritch-scritch.There it was again: a faint scrabbling sound. Gert exhaled loudly, flipped her pillow to the cool side, and pulled the quilt over her head.Scritch-scritch-scritch.She could still hear it. A mouse in the wall, no doubt — and there lay Siminy, tidily curled at the foot of the bed, unjustly sleeping the sleep of the just.What time was it? Bonnnggg… The Clock struck One.Gert was too hot. She flung the covers back to feel the breeze from the fan. Scritch-scritch-scritch.The cat’s white face was tucked under her black tail, just...