”Some days I feel like playing it smooth and some days I feel like playing it like a waffle iron.” -Raymond Chandler
Bits of fantasy and poetry and whatnot here, comedic comics on Instagram @mostlymecomics
I had been here before. The damp and springy earth sunk slightly beneath me as it always did, making space for me. A weightless scent hung in the air. The trees were finally in full bloom, with vibrant bunches of star shaped flowers I had never seen elsewhere, sagging off the thin pale green boughs and framed by spreading leaves. In some places, the weighted branches almost reached the ground, clusters of petals seemingly trying to tickle the moss below. Sunlight fought its way through the bright foliage to light rippling patterns across the ground. As silently as I could manage, I slowly filled my lungs as deeply as I could, until the stinging forced me to let it out.
The sun peeked over the horizon with the contained excitement and energy of a small hiding child who has not realized that everyone can see them. But it was impossible not to notice it as the golden light spilled over the mountain peaks and piled in the valleys. It was a glorious day to be alive and Herbert Snerg, hiking enthusiast, knew it. He took a deep, treasured breath of the clear mountain air, still containing that cold bite that drifted down from the snowy crags—his ultimate destination. He walked across the jagged stones, mismatched smooth and craggy alike, and began his trek.
The Clowns Named Her Martha
FADE IN INT. CAR ON THE HIGHWAY- NIGHT MARTHA(18), a very small high school senior, dressed smartly in well ironed dress pants and a dark blazer, flicks at her hair as she drives, eyes fused to the road. Leaning back in the passenger seat with her heels on the dash, we see SOLA, an equally petite teen, a perfect doppelganger of her sister other than the stark contrast in fashion. Her thick bleached hair is in high pigtails and her outfit resembles Harley Quinn. SOLA groans unconvincingly.
A Trying Circumstance
When I had closed my eyes, I had been on my back, flopped on the deliciously fuzzy living room carpet in my humble abode, exhausted from the tremendous effort of rolling over over and over again for the big womens with whom my mother was well acquainted. It was trying work, but it had earned many coos and tummy tickles so I felt my rest was well deserved.