” So what are you doing tonight?” the writer’s friend asked- sort of asked- because she asked by text message.
” Looking for monsters ” the writer wrote back.
Her friend asked, ” LOL. You mean writing right? “
” I’m a writer and when I write, I do choose my words carefully.”
” Uh. Okay. “
” But yes, dinner sounds great. Look. Do me a favor. Bring a shovel. And if you’re really a pal, you’ll bring two. “
” Ha! What are we doing? Burying bodies?”
” Doi. NO.We’re digging some up. C ya!”
When I write
I wonder what happens to my stories
when I hit that enter key and they fly into cyberspace.
I’ve heard that when you put something on the internet it will live there forever.
I write about the things that nightmares are made of.
Now there’s a thought.
I used to think that living in the suburbs was boring.
Anyway, that’s the way the story goes right?
I grew up a few miles from a guy who started a racist movement that has been tied to murders and someone stashed a body in the woods where me and my friends used to play everyday after school.
Home scream home.