My journal of big words and pretty pictures
Goodwood Duxford tales... The boy sat in a pool of quiet light, high on a hill surrounded by small, white granite headstones. His back against the rough bark of an old-growth pine, he closed his eyes and listened to the wind rustling through the trees. As the last rays of the sun spread out … Continue reading Quiet light
I’m not an overly superstitious person. At one time, I owned a black cat. I’ve walked under ladders, and I’ve stepped on my share of sidewalk cracks. I’ve also broken a few mirrors - all with no ill effect. However, I do believe in jinxes. With a cautious nod to not spoiling a good … Continue reading When the good luck comes
The Story so far... From the outside, the building appeared to be like any other on the street. Once Clay walked through the green door, he stepped into a subterranean world few had entered, or knew existed. Noor, his escort, led him way down the labyrinth of passages, fingertip barely grazing the rock walls, … Continue reading Into the light
Time passes slowly Hours, days, months, turn to years Blink and it is gone
Empty pizza boxes and beer bottles littered the room. Couch cushions were in a jumble where they were moved to open the sleeper closed inside. Sheets, stained and threadbare, the corner-hugging elastic stretched beyond its means, were wadded into a rancid pile on the floor. Bodies in various stages of drunkenness or unconsciousness were … Continue reading The green door
Ideas, hurled like cannon balls, are indiscriminate in their destruction. A special license should be required before shooting off your mouth. Spewing ignorant words in a spray of hatred and bigotry, bullets of misogyny and intolerance raining down without any regard for who they wound. Sticks and stones… words kill more people than guns and knives. You … Continue reading Point blank
Thin spiral notebook 