The eldest woke up in rain. It had washed the mud from him and shriveled his skin, but no wind blew and he learned some summer comfort. From his rock, he looked out on the world, and it was all rolling waves of mud. The waves washed over the rock, dirtying him and his home, … Continue reading Sunday writing 20150802 (#BayWriteClub): A (second) fantastical start, cont’d: Birth of the recorder; Rewrite second half of first scene first- to third-person
Mud. Mud and its earthy fragrance was all I knew for the first minute of life. I breathed in deep, relishing breath. I had never experienced it before. Nobody had, and mine was the first body. The caked on dirt kept my eyes closed, but I could breathe and smell, and I filled my lungs … Continue reading Sunday writing 20150726 (#BayWriteClub): A (second) fantastical start
Greg Freed says hello to the world of bloggers, mumbling into the hurricane.