We mixed it with coke and read aloud the only play we had with two copies. “Thrift, Horatio!” “To a nunnery, go!” We stumbled, spake, drew swords. Morning found retched scrambled eggs on my bedroom rug. No method in it but friendship.
Living life through words and balls.
a journal of poetry, flash fiction, and art
I write stuff
A Flash Fiction Writing Community
for flights of flash fiction fancy
Now, he thought, I must think about the drag. It has its perils and its merits. -- Hemingway
Fiction by Stan Cornerstone
Sometimes I write things. Sometimes I wanna share.
every best bloody mouthful
you may ask yourself, well, how did i get here
A DAILY RITUAL OF WRITING