Fiery tongues crept across the thick mat of dead grass, licking away all the dry stems and leaves. Like a battle front, the line moved roughly in unison with no possible retreat. Footsteps of flame crackled and snapped. The commander stood surveying his scorching...
Sun-speckled shadows shifted in the summer breeze. A deeper shade of purple surrounded the old mulberry tree. The berries were ripe and ready for plucking. Maybe that old tree alongside Ernie’s lane had been planted by a passing bird, or maybe tenderly planted...
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I love stories – reading, writing, listening, watching. I’ve always had a creative spark (my mind contrives twisted plots for fun) but working in the business world doesn’t leave much room for individual artistic flair. So after working in different businesses for 35 years, I’ve taken a detour onto the creative side.