I've written a few stories in the past couple of years. I hope to continue with this effort in the future as I learn more about the process of creative writing.
Here’s an amusing, yet gruesome, little poem for all of you zombie fans out there. It came out in free-verse this evening, but some day it may become a full fledged story.
A quirky little tale about an unlucky optimist who stays undeterred throughout his troubled morning.
A magical short story about the disappearance of a mountain town’s revered buddha and the unlikely revelations that occur afterwards.
I’m not really sure where this story came from. To tell you the truth, I was thinking of a different story. I started the dialog though, and it just kind of grew on it’s own.
The bags travelled along the conveyor like chocolate confections. A crowd of us had assembled to watch as they slowly circled the baggage area before dipping back behind gently swaying, neoprene curtains. I folded my arms, waiting, as they reappeared on the other side, often trailing new ones behind them. We were each looking for our particular flavor, the one bag that held all of our personal belongings; our ticket to get out of there...
Let's go sing karaoke! she said. Thump, went my heart. A unified Yes! poured out from the group. Who are these conspirators that taunt me so? Someone else offered up, We'll go to Imperial Palace, they have a great karaoke bar on the second floor. Another finalized the deal: Ok. It's settled then. Karaoke at 10. Imperial Palace. Now, you have to understand that I'm basically a mole rat, a subterranean dweller not used to...