tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178519032011-04-21T15:50:30.401-05:00I had the weirdest dream . . .Jimmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695039697676788817noreply@blogger.comBlogger61100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17851903.post-1152933018503037402006-07-14T22:09:00.000-05:002006-07-14T22:10:18.536-05:00

“Let me get that for you, Mrs. Woods.” Sally Woods looked up from the ground where she had dropped her mail to see Sheriff Dixon exit his cruiser and jog toward her. He nodded a greeting, and knelt to pick up the scattered envelopes. “Thank you, Sheriff,” she said. “My back won’t even let me pick up something off the ground.” “Don’t mention it,” Dixon said as he stood and handed Sally her

Jimmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695039697676788817noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17851903.post-1144353444316703392006-04-06T14:55:00.000-05:002006-04-06T23:40:03.520-05:00

What a hellish night it had been so far, and the worst was yet to come. Daniel stole a quick glance out the window of his family’s sturdy stone home. The sun had gone down hours ago, and darkness cloaked the land in full. There was no rain. No wind. No ominous clouds drifting across a full moon. As Daniel watched, there was nothing to suggest that merciless evil roamed the countryside.

Jimmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695039697676788817noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17851903.post-1143871836693434892006-03-31T22:54:00.000-06:002006-04-01T00:10:36.760-06:00

“Never fails to take your breath away, does it?” Byron’s father spoke of the stunning view of Earth from the panoramic viewing window in the orbital dwelling they called home. “No,” Byron answered. Two hundred and fifty miles below, Planet Earth sailed along regally in space. Byron’s finger tapped idly on the slender glass in his hand as he watched the passing continents and oceans.

Jimmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695039697676788817noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17851903.post-1134617719110364982005-12-14T21:34:00.000-06:002005-12-15T14:44:36.086-06:00

Witch blood. Populace disgrace. Decay where conclaves. Unhallowed be pillars grow? Gray seed boy to the exhibit. Bones along kitchen? Terror out! Flamboyant, alone, called unexplainable. Some grinned! His that three hills and poor countryfolk. Thought something outside. Cheap in discovering monstrous gate! Earth’s truest sight. Obscenely still. Horror them! Village

Jimmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695039697676788817noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17851903.post-1133640175758050122005-12-03T14:01:00.000-06:002005-12-24T16:10:36.876-06:00

“Dad, there’s a clown at the door.” Ted sighed at the declaration by his 6-year-old son, Bradley, who’d been telling a lot of whoppers lately. Ted sat up straight on the couch, ready to upbraid his son for lying and interrupting the football game when he heard his wife’s voice echo in his skull. It’s just a phase. Don’t get so upset. Just humor him until it goes away. “A clown, huh?” he

Jimmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695039697676788817noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17851903.post-1129436929299657792005-10-31T22:06:00.000-06:002005-10-31T14:56:18.663-06:00

A small cottage stands in an isolated woodland. Within it, a young girl and her mother sit together in silence. Patrice figits on an upright chair, while her mother tries to read a book by the light of a candle that burns on a small table between them. They don't talk. They try not to move. If they could stop breathing, they would. Father likes silence. To their left is a door. At the

Jimmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695039697676788817noreply@blogger.com5