deaconblack
In a sad boring way, the promising writer threw his writing prowess away to make an honest stand; the days of writing fiction were over. He was resigned to talking about books he wished he had written.
The once-worthless pennies that were coined were no more, for they became far cheaper to make than ever before. The alloyed discs were so lacking integrity and heft, they could float in the air, making as little dent in the deficit as possible.
It just takes a moment to receive it from others. In my reality, it's always my pistol that fires into my foot, and not my dueling adversary!
writing since 2008 · 19 entries · 19 days shown up
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the words you reach for
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