Scribbles

March 16, 2017 Scribble

A chance to bleed. I spent the morning re-writing explanations of my writing tools so they would make more sense. I actually found a few ideas I had forgotten such as planning climaxes and struggles. I think most of these things are apparent, for instance, you tend to see them pop up. But that is the pantser in me; plotters get ahead faster. I used to be just a pantser because it fit better with my…

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My Craft

A Diamond in Her Eye

[aesop_image imgwidth=”800″ img=”https://wordsmithholler.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/gangster-539993_1920.jpg” credit=”Pixabay” align=”left” lightbox=”on” captionposition=”left” revealfx=”off”] “You’ll never get me to tell you where the jewels are,” the child said. She leaned back and smirked. Too much television, thought the inspector. He sat down across from her rattling the metal chair against the table in the interrogation room. The girl leaned forward. She glared at him. The stare-off went on for a few minutes until he leaned forward. The girl pushed back pinning her arms…

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Conversations

Moments Before the Ambulance Arrives

A Conversation “We found him out here just laying on the sidewalk? “Nude?” “Yep. He looked dead.” “And then he jumped up?” “Yeah. Jumped off and started yelling.” “All that stuff about ‘do you know who I am?’ and “you should listen’? “I think he must have been a big shot once. I don’t think he is anymore.” “He ran for awhile and then collapsed?” “Strangest thing; seemed to run out of energy. He ran around, bumped…

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My Craft

The Devil Knows You’re There

He hung 100 feet above Fremont Street, like Superman, tethered only to the narrow ribbon of wire in a harness. Unable to twist and look up at why he was stuck, he looked down at the street instead. A sea of tourists moved below him as if he was another attraction. A small boy let go of a smiley-face balloon and started to cry.  A bald dude stared at him in a peewee muscle shirt.…

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