The slasher watched another victim fall.
Early frost decried a change of weather.
He's trembling cold but warmed by his recall.
The first one faced his knife some months ago.
A lithesome girl he wanted in the sack.
He learned she liked another better, so.
He left and said, "I'm never coming back!"
His conscience roared and kicked him in the butt.
"You want her, or do you just want to be
remembered as the one who missed the cut?"
"No way," she said. "At least it's not for free."
The snow is falling now. His sight is blurred.
By spring, will someone see where she's interred?
No attempt here to critique your fine verse. I Just wrote something inspired by yours
OMG! What a powerful and well-organized summary of a truth we all have crawling around in the back of our minds. Do we really have a lifetime of loves to remember or has lust fooled us each and every time? Is there any such thing as love. Or is it natures way of helping us rationalize our needs.
Don't let this one get away. It's one of those pieced that can come back to make you smile when you are 88 years old.
I think you did an excellent job of laying out your story in a smooth-flowing fashion. The order of the tale was such that I didn't want to stop reading until I got to the end. Even then, I was hoping for more. Alas, there will be no more. You gave us all that the story had to offer.
You have done an excellent job of showing the confusion that surrounds the whole faux gender drama intrigue. It's amazing how standardized the issue has become. Is there a published guideline for what thoughts are permitted on the transgender routine?
That was no failed experiment. They just approached it from the wrong side of the bed. What they got was succeeded with was a human who could not talk. Or at least didn't dare talk. Buddy now has to figure out how to put a leash on John. Laurie knows how. Just watch her for a while.
Shat a delightful concept for a story. It's too bad that the tense switches are so glaring that they distracted me from the potential of the story. That is a nice use of the Easter Egg buried in the word "crush". This could have been a 5-star yarn with just a bit of planning.
Once again we have a well-crafted story with threads hanging all over it. Just as does Bobby's gift to the story. We see the hidden gem of the story stand with her special child to receive the blessing, while those who know all things are oblivious to the delightful resolution.
You're on the right track, Jack. To build a bio of an action thriller we need to know the character. inside and out. We know that he is 23 years old and living in Russia. Could he have abandoned the US in favor of the Communist system? Or, could that be a ploy to get him into the good graces of the party powerful. And what about the scar on his right shoulder that no one can see but that extends all the way to his sullen attitude?
We know, but he does not that the girl he thinks he left behind in Des Moines is also in Russia planning her revenge. Can They survive the Russian winter and still come across to the reader as a plausible red hot couple?
You certainly have a smooth flowing, short opening chapter. We've met someone we think might be a main character but we don't know yet. That is quite an interesting chapter hook to toss in that "Why do you think he was following you?" line.
Frankly, if I pick up a book dubbed 'A thriller' I prefer a little more action in the opening.
We've learned to expect the best in flash fiction from Jacky. Here, we get to enjoy a step from the usual, great. We see a plausible interchange between brothers and it's all dialogue culminating as we might think two brothers would end their mild dispute with the titular word "crap"
The Simple Adoration stokes her flames.
We listen to the upbeat soulful sounds
while shuffling through that list of royal names.
That's not the way; we're clearly out of bounds.
Could we have missed the simple course tonight?
Our thoughts turn to a Queen of iron will.
No. It must be one to give her pure delight.
With expectation high, can she fulfill?
But then, we find the parchment’s final page
and touch a moment’s truth. The music soars.
We’re left in awe at what's left on the stage.
Upon their feet. The crowd's ovation roars
It's a good thing I had my seat belt fastened when Charise took that turn. But then, it should not have been a surprise. We already knew where her loyalties were turning. Dante's last thoughts must have been that she had more imagination and initiative than he thought.
This is a nice job of letting the scene build while the reader is reading on just filling the blanks as you let the cat slowly out of the bag. We don't get to know who the dinosaur is, but we do learn that the advisor is the maternal grandmother.
The salty words of faith erupt and spray
a sheen of resurrection, cold and hard.
These massive turns of verse have shown the way
from painted over truth to standing guard.
The open casket makes us wonder why
the makeup hides the pallor not the roil;
as husk and guests reach upward for the sky,
the last resort just waiting for the soil.
You left no doubt that Kenna Kitada wears the white hat in this tale.
He's a spot you might want to check Inconsistent tense.
She grabbed a thin file folder from the kitchen counter; the only thing out of place in the otherwise compulsively clean and tidy house. Plucking a set of keys from a side table next to the garage door, Kenna locks up and heads to the gray Ford Explorer.
Three words we know can warm us to the core
and turn the gloom to an unbranded smile.
The prize of lies no longer brings the chore.
of searching for the sunshine --for the while
And even when a fragile shard is broke
with hesitation clearly holding sway.
There moves that satisfaction we can't cloak
even with the games some people play
In true form of denouement at the end,
you hold the sunshine's mission by a thread.
The loving POV slips ‘round the bend
and turns the smile on. It is not dead
Writing screenplays is surely the place to write if one wants to earn their livelihood with a pen (or keyboard) as that is clearly where today's market is for the writing craft, whether fiction or documentary.
Thanks for letting us know of "The Screenwriting Group." If I ever try get serious about writing I'll want to be a part of that.
Thanks for this guide (a path that we can see)
Our conscience on a trip, led by the hand
Back to a time, we know should never be
beneath the angst, we fully understand.
You show us step by step, what should not be.
Reminding us what spins out in defeat
With angered words, the loser will be me
lamenting lost control, the last retreat.
Some claim that time heals wounds and all our stuff,
But don’t believe a bit of it is true.
For, angry bluster's never quite not enough,
to shake the sand of guilt from what we do.
The hollow path you show in what you said,
will often lead to wreckage that we dread.
We all say that we want the reader to be able to visualize our scenes, and you certainly accomplished that with this little tale. We can see Toby going through his doggie routine and claiming his territory. You are lucky he didn't pee on you. This scene is not set by the usual show don't tell narration, but we have here a good use of telling and making a fun read of it.
When my brother came home from WWII he was greeted with honor and appreciation. When my generation came home from the Korean 'police action' we were treated with respect but the rot had set in for Vietnam vets. They were treated terribly. It is refreshing to see there are some left who remember what that is all about.
You have done a good job of getting across the confusion we all suffer when trying to recall a dream. Dream scenes are one of the hardest segments of a story for me to write, so I expect dream scenes written by others to be hard to fit into their stories. This would probably be more clear for me if it were in the midst of the story and I could see the context.
BTW What are the {ep: 1}, etc. references pointing to?
Please accept my apology. I recognize your Gary Galah's Broken Heart as a well-written poem that relays an important message. I did not review your poem nor even write something inspired by it. I instead responded from my own prejudicious view of a few words in your bio. I would like to contrive some plausible excuse but I cannot. This was a learning experience for me as it brought me recognition of how easily I allowed my momentary annoyance to affect my behavior.
I would appreciate your forgiveness but, if that is not possible, I understand.
All the best.
Norbanus
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