Tuesday, 28 October 2008

The first or last step in the novel

The boy stood at the Dancehall. It was in darkness, a sort of blessing as he was listening, not distracted by people.

In the dark the coyote howls. Yet with the wind it's like the dead wailing for a ghost highway.

He waits, the woman not he begins the adventure.

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Welcome and thanks for dropping in. I'll pop by yours by and by.

This blog was inspired by First 50 words where you freewrite from a single word prompt. I use random words or images to create flash fiction in formats ranging from twitter postcards to short short stories.