I have enjoyed writing for most of my life, never professionally.
I wish to now share my stories with others, lets see where it goes.
Born and raised on the Canadian Prairies, I currently reside on the West Coast. I call both places home.
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. ....Now what? I tap my fingers to no particular rhythm, asking myself, why is she staring out a window? My brain pulsates trying to arrive at a new story line, something so different that no one will have thought of it before. Then again, so is every writer. I heard that there really are only seven basic plotlines, I guess its what we do with them to make our stories original. I purse my lips in concentration and go back to tapping out a beat on my keyboard, an idea, I need an idea!
A very Prairie Christmas
The wind howls outside bending trees to its will, while falling flakes swirls in every direction like a freshly shaken snow globe. With each gust the home shivers. Inside a fire flares to life, flames twist to a silent dance of the night, their shadows casting images of a different time and memories past, but not forgotten.
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. Not that I could see it, my vision disappeared nearly two years ago, the day after we buried my wife. I woke, and the world around me remained dark. It was sudden, like Marie's death.
Even in the harshest soil a flower may bloom.