Writing, for me, is a creative outlet. Fiction is my first love, specifically short stories. However, I have tried my hand at most genres. I hope you enjoy my writing as much as I enjoy creating it.
Clayton Rifkin III crossed his feet on top of the battered desk and leaned back in the ancient office chair. He stared past his pointy-toed, snakeskin cowboy boots and surveyed his kingdom in the shadows of the late afternoon sun. Yes, sir, Clayton’s Autorama was the finest dealer of gently used vehicles in Harris County.
If he had any feelings one way or another George Kerrigan didn’t show it as he sat stone-faced and stared straight ahead, as he had done for most of the trial. There was no need for the defendant to look over to know the jurors were boring holes into him with hate-filled stares as they filed back into courtroom 38B. Presumably these people were a jury of his peers, but there was no way any of these people could have seen, done, or lived the kind of life that George Kerrigan had experienced.
The Midnight Train
The cigarette I was lighting almost fell from my lips when I caught a glimpse of the man standing a hundred feet away from me on the train platform. Turning my head to get a better look, the man was suddenly gone. After a minute or so he reappeared, only this time he was to my right and a few feet closer. I shook my head to clear my thoughts because there was no way this was the same man from 5 years ago. I had been working a lot lately, and fatigue was as good of an excuse as any other.