Well, it may be a wet and rainy Friday here in good ol’ Western North Carolina, but that won’t stop the Party!
Of course, as it sometimes happens, I have some pimpin’ to do before we get to the 100 words of goodness.
Reign Of Four: I is on sale for $.99! This is only for a week, so hurry your ass up and get the first novel in the series that has been compared to George R.R. Martin’s Game Of Thrones, but in space! SPACE! After the deal is over this puppy goes back up to $5.99. Do the math, people. (I’ll do it for you) You save $5 if you buy it right now! RIGHT NOW! So, hurry and get the low, low price of $.99 for a novel that is perfect for lovers of space opera, historical fiction, and regal fantasy! ACT NOW!
Okay, enough shilling, time to get to the drabble!
The cup of coffee had long since gone cold by the time Malcolm was able to tear his eyes away from it and look at the gun that lay upon the kitchen table.
He studied the curves, the blued steel, the way the thing looked heavy even though it was only his .22 target pistol.
His eyes went from the gun to the strawberry jelly that covered the table around it. The dark red and hunks of fruit.
“Not jelly,” he whispered to himself.
He picked up his phone and dialed 911, ready to report what his wife had done.
Disclaimer: Hug the ones you love.
Welcome to another episode of Writing In Suburbia!
This week I get real about how income can flip on a dime (no pun intended). I also talk a little about getting back to my roots of being a pulp fiction writer. Okay, I talk a lot about getting back to my roots of being a pulp fiction writer.
And there might be some thoughts on soup and working food service.
Folks, it is that time of the week again! RITUAL HUMAN SACRIFICE TIME!
What? That’s Wednesdays? And we aren’t supposed to talk about it? Not to anyone? Ever?
Well, that’s a bummer. What’s the point of sacrificing one’s enemies if you can’t brag about it on one’s blog and/or social media? Sometimes I question the morals of this country.
Hey! Speaking of morals! Did you know Z-Burbia is only $.99 right now? AND, if you buy it you can add on the audiobook for only $1.99 more? Hot damn!
Now, on to tonight’s drabble! HUZZAH!
The Loop Never Stops
Trapped. The current data is processed at two gigabytes per second. The loop never stops.
Cassie stared at the words on her screen. She glanced over her left shoulder. No one was watching her. She glanced over her right shoulder. Herb was watching, but that perv was always watching.
Trapped. Enter protocol for return. The current data is processed at three gigabytes per second. Exponential growth. Cannot maintain position. The loop never stops.
Cassie was about to reply when Herb cried out then vanished into his monitor. Into it. Then gone.
Cassie decided it was time to go to lunch.
Disclaimer: Then…I got in.
That’s right, Alex, I’ll take potpourri for $100!
Yep, this week’s episode is a hodgepodge (which I just found out is one word. Who knew?) of topics from music while writing to quantity v. quality to whatever. I’m all over the place in this one! ALL OVER THE PLACE!
And I play some blues harp, because blues harp.
Hello, Friday, my old friend. I’ve got 100 words again.
In sentences softly creepy, in paragraphs that are something something…
Okay, I couldn’t keep it going. It’s early when I am writing this and coffee hasn’t kicked in yet. But, for you, my brave fans of micro-fiction, it is FRIDAY NIGHT DRABBLE PARRRRRRRTY TIIIIIIIIIMMMME!
You know what? Let’s get right to the party. If you feel like checking out any books -ebook, print, or audio- just clickety clack any of those menu titles above. They will take you to a world of wonder!
Now, on to the drabble!
Modern City Life
The subway rattled down the tracks while Holston stared at his hands. The other passengers had gotten off at the last few stops, leaving the car empty, a decaying mausoleum of modern city life.
Holston coughed. He didn’t cover his mouth, just watched the droplets of spittle hit the deck of the subway car, adding to the years of grime and gunk.
He wiped at his mouth and the back of his hand came away bloody.
It was too late.
Holston set his hand on his jeans and closed his eyes, ready for the end of the world to begin.
Disclaimer: You can’t take it with you when you die. Whatever it is.