She pulled the wig out and dusted it off. She looked at it sadly.Her eyes looked as though they were looking into a well rather than at an old red wig. She had spoken of the wig before with fondness. It meant something greater than any of us could ever grasp. To her it was....
That was just a little experiment with oneword.com. I kind of needed a starting place. So, tell me, who is she? And who is us? And what did the wig mean? Just some creative questions there if you have any ideas.
I've written starts of books and starts of stories that seemed to have true promise but I've never gone through with one. Things about teens and romance, and killers, and sci-fi scientists. And where has it left me? Writing poems.Not that poems can't be awesome. I just wish I could write something that people would care to read and own and think about.
School is back in session tomorrow, and I'm out for tonight. So... "Ha ha ha ha, stayin' alive!"