Welcome to America, where the price of milk processed from a cow is higher than gas, people actually care about the milk to gas price ratio, and we have people who wield the infinite wisdom of the internet in the palm of their hand, yet they still don't know how to properly dress, bathe, or... Continue Reading →
For someone who writes often, you wouldn't think it'd be difficult to think of something new to write about. The only challenge with Confessions of a People Watcher is that, with the exception of finding stories within theses events, I would like it to be based somewhat in reality. I'm a fiction writer by nature, and... Continue Reading →
I sit at my desk sometimes, wondering why I still come back to writing. I can honestly say that at this point, if nothing else, it serves as a good outlet from the pressures of adulthood. Often times after sitting down for a good try at another short story, I’d forget the whims of the... Continue Reading →
A young man on the north end of town stops at the one and only red light before hitting the south bend. At the end of this bend he'll encounter another light before hitting a major highway. After this he'll be on his way and never look back at his hometown again.
Just so you guys know, Daily Prompts are not going anywhere. Musing for a Moment will be a new morning post while the Daily Prompts get a bit of a revamp. Not to worry though, when they come back you'll see your two whimsical character in ways you'd wish you wouldn't have.
It was a warm afternoon downtown. A good friend and I were perusing the sidewalk to check out the new classic movie cinema and asking each other where we'd like to wake up tomorrow morning if given the choice.
My friend and I were in charge of filming his twelve-year-old niece's beauty pageant, meaning we were stuck in the gymnasium of her school for the next two hours. Although it was agreeably one of the most boring things we had ever done, it was fun to think of new categories for the judges to score the girls on to pass the time.
'Seriously," he insisted. "Imagine your child comes up to you with the cutest face, and asked, 'What does dying mean, daddy'," he said, making beady eyes at me.