I write. I sleep. I eat. I write more. Sometimes I find time to work, too! My old trucks are my babies, my baby is my daughter, and my dogs are my kids. My wife is why I get up in the morning.
Chapter Seven of Many
Chapter Seven “What are you doing?” My heart leaped into my throat and I spun in a quick circle. I was still alone, just as I had been since I had arrived. Wind whistled in my ears as I turned, waiting for the scenery of bland white to change, for the owner of the voice to appear as a blotch of darkness against the ivory.
I don’t like cliché things. It’s not something I decided on one day, it’s just always sort of been like that. I don’t know why, but anything that rings of a trope or stereotype drives me batty. So, when I say that the way I met my wife was probably something to do with God’s sense of humor, you can believe me.
Chapter Five of Many
Chapter Five “Waaaaallace!” Meg’s shrill voice shrieking from outside my bedroom door dragged me out of my dream and I sat bolt upright. My hands flew to my face, and then down to my shoulders and chest, checking to see if I had been smooshed by my tumble off the whale.
Chapter Three Meg didn’t forget about Dyn. In fact, it seemed like I was spending more time with my sister now than I ever had before. Each time I turned around, she was there. Each time I whistled for Dyn, she was there. I took some undignified pleasure in the idea that when I whistled she came running like a dog, but it wasn’t good enough for me to forgive her for following me around and trying to steal my dog.