I write fiction; succinctly.
It’s All Fun and Games Till a Tiger Dies
The name’s Roth, Charles Roth, and my voice is as gravelly as taking a chainsaw to a boulder. Picture it in your head, or you’ll be answering to my tailor. He cuts out my trench coats with one hell of a sharp knife, so I wouldn’t cross him if I were you.
‘Where have all the good men gone?’ Stupid question. The song permeated the bathroom distantly as the singer belted out the chorus. Sabrina was just about sick of listening to that screeching. She opened the window of the bathroom and climbed out.
My Sister's Book
Before she died, my sister gave me a Little Black Book. It was about the size of a match box, and it fit perfectly in my pocket. It was a very special gift, to her silly younger brother, filled with the meditations of her life; brief thoughts from a mind that had endured many struggles.