The Slick Black Snake, That Was The Highway

Benjamin turned, walked away from the headlights and carnage.

Recent memories of the violence; cycloned around his head, reflections seeking repose.

Finally he filed them away.

All except the one:

the final one.

He bided his time and at the bridge, numbly hurled the tire iron in the Schuylkill and walked on.



…Must Use the Prompt as Directed

Michael sat the sepia toned tintype carefully on his desk.

It depicted two formally dressed, bearded and dusty men in front of a clapboard building.

Above the building’s door a sign read, “Strand” & “Field”, below that, “Law Offices”.

“The law is in your blood,” His father had said. “Make us proud.”



Random Scribbles · writing

It’s All in Fun Joe. It’s All in Fun!

Are we being a bit lenient with Joe this week?

He’s a fine writer, a talented wordsmith. Most deserving of praise, but…

He’s an Irishman, a Dubliner, no less.

Might this be unfair?

St James Gate, Dublin is the birthplace of Stout.

I suspect, in his youth, he worked summers for Guinness.



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