Out of nowhere last night, a literary drabble popped out.
Just like an old tiresome volcano that’s done nothing but grumble for a
century suddenly burping out a single hatchback-sized glunk of lava and taking
out some poor farmer’s barn, my imagination hacked up the beginnings of a short
story, plopped it unceremoniously down on my screen and left me to clean up the
mess.
“And what the heck am I supposed to do with that!?” I growled as I
stared down at the pile of crisp, choppy sentences my one foray into published
literary story-ness showcased six years ago. “I don’t need this. Do you hear
me? I have no time for that…that… goodness!”
I sputtered indignantly at the stupid screen.
Bottom line: Watch out for your imagination. It can take out a barn.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
