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Advice for Writing, Editing, Reading, and Life.
New posts on Mondays (for non-fiction) or Fridays (for fiction)
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Obadiah’s Third Part
Obadiah took a deep breath and entered from stage left. The white-hot lime blinded him, but his courage did not falter.
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The Patron Saint
Pitmaster James awoke hanging from his feet in a tiny room. The smell made James retch. Everything was shrouded in gloom. A puddle of something wet reflected the sickly flame of a lone candle. James’ heartbeat punctuated the dull ache in his head with spikes of agony.
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Give Me Your Answer True
Daisy clambered through a broken window. She left tracks in the thick dust as she explored. Debris littered the floor. At the end of a wide corridor, splattered on double doors, a question: ARE YOU REAL?
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I, the Undersigned, Do Hereby Release Orion Prime Enterprises from All Liability
Krastin, wearing a huge, plastered-on grin, waved to the raffle winners. Should he look grim and mournful? He still wasn’t sure. Would you rather see a smiling face greeting you warmly? Or would you want a clue, a facial tick, a twitch of silent body language as a warning?
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You’ve Gotta Be Knitting Me
Marge put nimble spiders to shame. She had never dropped a stitch, despite all her years knitting. Even with these clumsy, thick fingers, she coaxed yarn into textiles as a maestro coaxes soundwaves into symphonies.
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Stenchwing
Sulfurous fumes wafted from Stenchwing. He knew that voice. “Oh, Sapientia… Hi.”
“Gaudi, how are you?! It’s been what? Four millen—”
“Five actually. Yeah. It’s uh, Stenchwing now.”
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Twitter Blues
A very brief flash fiction piece written in response to a prompt by Laura Cooney (@LozzaWriting).