I began to pour the whiskey; the drought detrimentally hits my psyche. My melancholy was a symbol of how low things had gotten. 

Yet, the history of farming has shown us we could still get a sign that things would get better; maybe we will eventually have a week of rain where our crops would thrive, and we could slide into the red with our harvest. Our human rights end as we want to experience them, end with the constant onslaught of a tested life, bringing hardship to the people. Thankfully, the government helps us during these crises with subsidies.

Inspired by The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #506

The Projector – Part 2 on Short Story Saturday!


Featured on Short Story Saturday, read by Matt Snyder. The spoken story continues!

I Write Her

Part 1

The Brighton Plaza Cinema 5/2/21 – Seth

Seth was looking forward to watchingHead Hunting, the reviews were top-notch, and he was definitely into seeing some bloody action this afternoon. Rotten Tomatoes highly recommended the movie, plus some of his friends said he should take in a show but not take his girlfriend as she would probably faint with all the slasher content. Seeing how she was spending the day with her girlfriends, it was the perfect time to see it.

He paid for his ticket and got situated in his seat. Seth had a habit of sitting at the end of the row, next to the walkway. That way, he could quickly get up to visit the restroom, if necessary. He despised bothering people. Looking around the theater for the first time, he noted the nostalgic feel of it; possibly the peeling…

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The incoming ethereal sounds almost felt like a game of pings bouncing off my glass psyche; I assumed it was playing tricks on me. With my stick in hand, each carefully laid tap on the ground produced reverberations that began to overshadow my conscious reality. 

Oh, oh, my sugar must be getting low, was the last thought to myself which made any sense. The insulin shock to my system was giving wicked shots to my brain but numbing me nonetheless. I didn’t even feel the rock splitting open my head as the fleeting thoughts of reality bounded around my skull.

Shit Happens

Inspired by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix

My husband needed help in the pasture; graciously, I offered to lend a hand. There was a massive heap of cow shit needing mucking from the stall. 

I thought I forgot my wedding ring. Nope, it had fallen off. Disgusted, I slowly began to dip my hand into the pile.

Future Stories Will Have A New Home

Yep, it’s the beginning of the month and I know that you were expecting a new tale. But I’m sorry, I must disappoint you, readers. Last week, I mentioned KDPs latest project – Kindle Vella, and I have decided to try my hand on this platform. All my future stories will debut there instead of this blog. I do hope you’ll consider supporting me in this new way, though!

As soon as I know, you’ll know when the program is LIVE!

Thanks for your continued love and support of my imagination!

Collecting Their Dues

There was a bounty on my disheveled head, and time was running out. Oh, to be back in college for the chase of knowledge instead, where placing parenthetical citations after each quote in essays was the most exciting experience of the day. Odds were I’d not live to see tomorrow, my escapades exposed and open for the world to see. His men would come for me despite this torrential rain. Shivering, with only a lit candle wick for warmth and light, the grounds beneath my feet shook—thunder unleashing havoc overhead.

I so wished I’d never gotten involved with the cartel.