Here’s a little pop of micro-fiction. Hope you like it. More to follow. Remember when we went night swimming...
Category: Writing
Tender was the night
Tender was the night.
Gentle was the breeze
That flowed across my skin...
The past is like a warm blanket
The past is a warm blanket wrapped around you: Comfortable, certain, sometimes smothering. The future is a magic carpet: Scary, exhilarating, leading to eternity.
So, what do you do?
I enjoy a good quiz show as much as the next person (probably a bit more than them), but only if there was a threat to life* would you find me on one as a contestant. For one thing, there would be the horror of my enlarged HD face appearing on 42" television screens across the land, then there's the likely humiliation of me doing a giant blankface at the easiest of questions (worse would be answering confidently but being oh-so-wrong) - but the major deterrent right now is the fear of being publicly asked: 'So, what do you do?'



