Tag Archives: writing

Great Scott

I’m trying to develop a previous post into a short story. “Disappearing Act”  was written a while ago and I’m revisiting the characters and hope to find a good story somewhere. I hadn’t really thought about that post until I stumbled across a Daily Prompt – “Do you believe in magic?”  

He was always striving for perfection. To be the best. To live up to his name. The first time he saw it, above the front of the small theatre back home, he became afflicted with self doubt. What if he wasn’t “Great Scott”? What if “Tonight Only” really meant “only tonight because no one else is going to book your lame assed magic show after that performance? ” No, this wasn’t his neighbours kids birthday party anymore. The pressure was really on. Continue reading Great Scott

The Things we Leave Behind

They say every city has a soul, thing is, this ones tormented. Looking for a party? Well what’s your drug of choice my friend? We got them all. Drink, drugs? You name it, we can get it for you. You want to put it all on black? Do it here. Want a girl to do the kinda things you can’t ask your sweet soccer mom wife for? This is the place, for a price, and everyone has a price.

They found mine a while back. Just one little job, and the debt is cleared. But then there’s another job and another, and another and before you know it you’re throwing lifeless hookers into dumpsters without a second thought.  Well it ends tonight. I just invested my life savings in a tankful of gas and I’m going to blow the whole lot. I don’t care where I’ll go, just so long as it’s far away from here. They’ll all catch up with me eventually, it’s just who’ll kill me first, the evil I leave behind or the ghosts I bring along for the ride

Working on a Dream

I work for the county out on 95
All day I hold a red flag and watch the traffic pass me by
In my head I keep a picture of a pretty little miss
Someday, mister, I’m gonna lead a better life than this

 Bruce Springsteen,  Working on the Highway.

It’s just before midnight when he comes into the store. He parks his guitar case in the staff bathroom and makes his way to the counter. His co-worker looks at him with relief in his eyes.

“Did you play tonight? he asks Continue reading Working on a Dream