Random Scribbles · writing

Windows to the Soul


Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham
Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham

I see absolutely everything. Except for the things I miss. I sometimes miss the big things.

The beast was clearly dead, beached, rocking gently with the undulations of the sea. I approached for a closer look. Her countenance was passive, nonthreatening; in stark contrast to her still bared teeth that were menacing, razor sharp needles designed for sudden and horrible annihilation.

Her eyes, her eyes were as big as a man. I leaned in close, hoping to glimpse her spirit, to no avail. They were glazed and clouded, blinded by death.

As I searched there for a spark, she blinked.


Random Scribbles · writing



Walk or run
Cake or death
Up or down
Black or white
Wrong or right

Ship or cruise
Yes or no
Stay or go
Sit or stand
Blonde or brunette

Left or right
Loose or tight
In or out
Now or later
Good or bad

Regular or decaf
Chevy or Ford
Red or blue
One lump or two
Chocolate or vanilla


“What’s the use you learning to do right when it’s troublesome to do right and ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same?”

Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn