A clattering batters his head. He spits an expletive as nails scatter like raindrops to the chipped anad stained tile below. Jay squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments and blows out a sharp breath. Resigned, he slowly climbs down from the small ladder. It's probably the nicest thing he owns.
Ready to die, Ash decides that he will live his last days to the fullest. His plans are ruined by some people at school, he thinks they are as useless as he is and decides to end them as well.
Ash grows weary of his stifled existence and ruminates on how insignificant his death would be to those around him.
Numbered Days is a new direction for an old story I have been working on for some time. This is the entire story. This is just a start.
My phone screen in cracked!
I am typing this on a physical keyboard, which feels fantastic by the way, on my wife's cheapo refurbished laptop she bought on Amazon months ago when a cat knocked down her previous laptop.
Due to time constraints and the typically high level of exhaustion I am working at, I can either stop writing or write when and what I can. Because I am so set on writing, I have decided to due just that and set aside time for myself to write what I can within a set time. These 344 words were wrought in the space of 10 minutes.
I like naked racism. I don't like racism. Hating someone because of how they look is stupid; its unproductive and unhelpful to the hater and the object of their scorn alike.
I like powerful women in the real and fictional worlds. I was raised on Buffy and Xena before her. As I grew older and wiser and more religious I felt pangs of the heart when I realized that I wouldn't feel so great sharing female superheroes with my daughters because so often they are framed in the most brazen physically attractive way possible.
The situation at the US-Mexico border is uncomfortable for me. My wife and I are a bit divided over it. No, we aren't fighting, we just lean towards opposite ends. What we agree on is that the immigration system is a mess.
Almost as soon as I began my endeavor to write every day, or at least 5 days a week, I was dealt quite the blow. Actually it was the family who was dealt the blow, I was like the table they got knocked into as Hand Foot and Mouth disease struck the lot of them.
Yesterday morning my wife asked me who my childhood hero was. One name came to mind above all the others: Spider-Man.