Brad was an explorer born six centuries too late. He’d known this from childhood, staging naval battles in the bathtub. Trading pinecones and beads with his action figures. But at forty-six there were no new worlds to conquer, save the mysterious space where paper jammed in the office copier. So Brad set out in his dingy boat, looking for a land to call his own. Continue reading →
Sylvia had all the next day to talk herself out of the party. As sun set, she sucked on menthols and paced the balcony shared with the other smokers on her side of the building. It had a view of a brick wall. Inspiring.
That earthy, peaty smell like so many earthworms’ private fantasies richened the air that morning. The world was keeping secrets, and Jørgen was set on discovery. He sharpened his tools, mended his bag, and looked up the hill. The sun was high by now. He groaned.
Has it been so many months since my last post? Hopefully none of you are familiar with this feeling of having abandoned your blog on accident. I’ve been finishing up a screenwriting project with my dear friend, relocating to a new city (greetings from Atlanta!), and doing the general business of living that makes sitting down to maintain The Wordsy difficult. I’ve missed this community’s warmth and encouragement (you’re a most decent bunch), and I hope in the future to bring you a better, more vibrant, thoughtful and entertaining collection of work.
P.S. Expect some renovations to the site for easier navigation!
“Sorry.” Her fingers grazed my back. I’d forgotten that feeling, like kittens climbing your spine and curling in your throat. Warm and matted and mewling. Disgusting, if you think about it. Who thinks about it at the time? Kittens in your throat. That’s gross.Continue reading →
Francis squinted until it looked like his toes were walking across the mud brown river, instead of swinging midair from the academy windowsill. That way his kicks could carve waves, bashing the cherry-red ferry tours against each other like toys in the bathtub.
The dorm attendant dawdled past his open door. “They just rang. I’m sorry, Francis.”
I took the holiday vacation time to finally crack down on the last act of my latest screenplay. It was definitely a goal to finish it before the new year, and although it wasn’t with as much time to spare as I’d hoped, it got done! Well…done is a relative term here, as all you writers know. It’s a second draft, which desperately needs a third. But, I think it won’t involve as much structural heavy lifting as this one. And hopefully it’ll find its way into some of the spring competitions (a resolution of mine). At least it didn’t take me until the stroke of midnight!
I’d fallen into a rhythmic stride en route to the dormitories, where my path led between a ridge of lamplit trees and pond reeds dusted with snow tops. That powder sifted over my route between the parking lot and campus proper would melt before morning, but it was here now, and so was I. Everyone else would be asleep at this hour, tucked away from frosted windows and clanging radiators. But here, falling into the silent rhythm of heel-toe, I left a single set of footprints behind me. Continue reading →