The young lass Weathersby,
Reared a rake lecher
The boy gained infamy,
As a cruel corrupter
Each conniving victory,
Sent his renown farther
‘Til the repeated story,
Hit the ears of a roamer
She vowed utter destruction,
To get his goat superbly
Leaving the boy’s seduction,
An act even he would decry
The mark of a professional writer, is they know the genre of their story and the arc it will take. At least that is what Shawn Coyne says in his book “The Story Grid.” Coyne probably knows something about this because as an editor he has looked at enough fiction to determine if it is a finished and publishable novel. He created the Story Grid to weed out the scenes that just didn’t meet the…
Hot breath touched her neck and she sidestepped left running hard until the sweet smell of rotting flesh faded. She landed in a hole and pulled leaves over her. She waited. The sweet smell drifted again to her nose. She stopped breathing and listened. Warm drool fell on her head. She drew into the hole and stifled a scream. Now the sweet smell was gone. She sat listening. No sounds. She waited still before peeking…
This is a short story about a group of people at a settlement conference: a sort of preliminary attempt to close out a lawsuit before a trial. Most of the settlement’s are managed by previous judges, so they know what will fly in front of a jury, and what won’t fly.
Cranberry Juice The emergency room at the county hospital seemed too busy for a Tuesday morning. Tucked in every corner sat screaming babies with frantic mothers, homeless suffering from the heat, foreigners nursing hangovers, and Cindy with a gunshot in her arm. She sat in the middle of a bed pushed into the hallway with her legs dangling over the edge. A gauze pad with a red circle of blood covered her arm. This part…
Paramedics wheeled Charlie out of the club through the mess of wires, broken glass, and water. A medic taped gauze on Cindy’s arm where a bullet broke the skin leaving a bleeding gash. Cuts and scratches covered her legs. “He’s going to live,” Wallace said. “How he didn’t die is anybody’s guess.” How they all survived, nobody could tell. A flash of gunpowder played again in Cindy’s mind as the bullet sent a cascade of water over Bill’s…
Todd Loudin heard the shots below his office. They sounded close. He cocked his head to listen. Two more shots and screaming. He rushed to the window. A man dressed in all black ran away from the Glitter Gulch. Behind him, a half-dressed girl flailed on the ground with a hole in her leg. Another girl wearing only a bikini tried to help her. Green bills blew out of a broken grocery bag. A couple bills stuck…
A man dressed in black shifted his weight in the far booth with the girls. Feather hung on him like a white dishcloth and her breasts touched his shirt. She patted his arm when he laughed. The man chewed on a swizzle stick and a baseball hat hung low over his forehead. Cindy noted the corner of his eye when he smiled at Feather. “They seem full of energy,” Cindy said. Bill looked behind him. “The night…
Cindy counted the number of bubbles rising from the bottom of the aquarium behind Bill’s head. A black and white fish floated through the bubbles followed by a yellow and blue. The black and white was missing an eye. Otherwise, each fish looked happy to be swimming in a strip club. “You should add a clown fish.” Bill looked over at her. “Like Finding Nemo.” “You are an odd,” Bill paused. “No, make that a…
Bill DuPree kept an eye open on Fremont Street for fresh beauty to keep the Glitter Gulch filled with long legs and shapely thighs. If they had a nice set of breasts, well, that was cream on the stick. As the manager, he had seen them arrive and leave. A girl would need a firm foundation to attract the John’s, Dick’s, and George Washington’s stuck in the G-strings of their eye candy. Too bad each piece of…