From the Window
Elvis had left the building.
I gave some old stories a little love and polish. Find them here. They are my personal favourites.
Elvis had left the building.
Hop on the exam table, Mister Smith, and let’s take a look at the carnage, shall we?
No one could pronounce my last name growing up.
So much blood.
My dreams always started the same way.
Detective Arnie Chalmers dropped his finished cigarette to the asphalt, ground it with his heel, and waited for his partner to catch up.
Janine let her hair flop forward on the left, decided against it, and threw her hair up in a clip.
So, I’ve been reading my NaNoWriMo novel today and had a brainwave.
I watch as she sits on the park bench, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear, and quietly sips her coffee.
Melanie closed one eye and focused on the board.
I’ll never forget the first time I sat behind the yoke of dad’s old hovercar by myself, newly minted holo-license carefully filed in my e-wallet.
“Oh, thank you, Spiderman!