via Daily Prompt: Vanish And then she was gone. That was always what they said, in the interviews, on the tapes later. She or he was there, then they weren’t. A crowded mall. A parade. A quiet walk home from school with some friends. They were all seen until they weren’t. It was the same …
I’ve been sort of back and forth trying to decide what I want to do with this blog and the others I started several years ago. I’ve archived all the other accounts associated with BWBW, and will be focusing solely on this blog until I decide what to do. I will be continuing to write …
Sure enough, I got away from writing every day and the habit was easily broken. I should really resolve to get back to it for the rest of February. I sometimes don’t think I have anything to say, but that hasn’t ever been teh point of this blog. This is more like the dynamic stretch …
Several things happened simultaneously. The little man shed his coat with a quickness and finesse out of place on his short, sturdy form, the book “leapt” if it’s possible for a book to leap, from the case and begin flying around the room like a trapped bird, hissing at Kitty, and Mr. Boppyface jumped up …
It had started out as a Very Good Day. Her eyeliner went in without smudging, the cats had not puked on anything in the night, her coffee brewed perfectly dark and perfectly hot and the walk to the bus stop, although bitingly cold, was under a sky so blue and a sun so bright she …
There’s a story brewing. Which means things might get lean for a bit. However, I feel you should know, the lovers in the cabin are doing quite well, despite their mutual Desire to remain undiscovered. It is making them both a bit tense, but she’s learning to trust him and he’s learning to trust her …
Hate when I start a post early and by the time I get back to it I don’t feel the same so I scrap it. I know this girl. Let’s call her Lillith. She’s stuck in this god-awful situation. She just wants to get away from the fuckers she’s with, but she keeps getting ropes …
Another quick fiction friday. Not happy with it, but I don’t edit my fiction here, so it is what it is. They unloaded their gear while a gentle snow fell. She was thankful for the added layer she had thrown on before they’d left, and that they’d packed extra blankets too. They hadn’t really talked …
An idea floated in on tides of dreams. Enclosed in golden threads of thought and disconcertingly persistent. The waves of imagination lulled me to sleep and there was a moment, between the waking world and sweet slumber, when the idea was all and everything. “Sleep now,” she whispered “and wake with the light; a thing …
A short fiction for your Friday. The road to the campground wound through several miles of dense ponderosa and aspens. Fall was firmly set and the first dusting of winter snow billowed in the wake of the old pickup as it made its way up the hill, chugging faithfully along despite its age and need …
