Hanging at the homestead, the place of my birth, checking up on pops (he's been better, but is holding his own).
Decided it was probably a good day for a OneWord exercise. That's a writing prompt where you get one word, and 60 seconds to write something with it. Whoosh, I know.
His skin was pebbled from the last big blast, but when he got that itch, the scrabbled flesh oozed and quivered with memories of past indiscretions.
There was no rest for the wicked.
The bags under his eyes darkened as he packed the last of the plastic explosive into the plush dolls, the bunnies, teddy bears, the Raggety Anns.
Book status update
1 hour ago
5 comments:
You are one sick dude! I think I'm in love!
don't you love that site??
yours is far better than mine..
Yikes! Lots painted in in just 60 seconds.
For me though, I dunno. I think it might take me longer than sixty seconds to arrange my fingers on the keyboard. Heavy sigh.
Donna, where have you been all my life?
Hal, 60 seconds goes by very, very fast. And I don't type so well. I do correct spelling after time's up, so that helps.
Apparently, Thom, I've been looking in the wrong places for a highly intelligent talented guy with a sick, demented, warped sense of humor! (You hate the highly intelligent tag, don't you? Replace it with whatever you want.)
I hope you're putting that abundance of talent into writing a novel.
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