Journey into My Imagination
Or why I just stopped to do the dishes and clean the kitchen at 2 AM. October, one of my three favorite months of the year, came creeping in less than a week ago. It's arrival was not greeted by my customary set up of all things orange and black. My ghosts and skeletons have... Continue Reading →
There is nothing easy about becoming a writer.
In the places where cobwebs dance with wayward socks and discarded shoes, The places where we know the monsters lurk to eat us when we snooze?
Could I have learned to teach and even write without studying which great British poets wrote their poetry on hallucinogens and when? Probably, but I took the class anyway because I liked the professor.
“Oh, I LOVE this song, It’s one of the best, right Ollie?” Ember screamed and began drumming the beat of Queen’s Fat-Bottomed Girls, on her steering wheel. As she bobbed her head, loose strands of her red hair escaped their messy bun prison and her periwinkle framed glasses moved precariously down her pert nose.
He pulled the thin blanket up around his shoulders, then shivered as his feet were now uncovered. He wanted to grumble about the ridiculousness of this whole situation, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Surely, they could co-exist in the same bed under warm blankets, while fully clothed, without risking anyone’s virtues. Too cold to sleep, he grew grumpier by the second, staring into the darkness and listening to the night. He could hear her mumbling to herself.
Romance is the steady and the unexpected
Shannon McCauley - Author 