I'm drowning in it, my ReaderFriends.
But it's been so exciting to challenge myself with poetry and short stories through the past two weeks.
(Okay, I'll admit. I've only written three of the past twelve days. But I'm knocking out over 2,000 words each time, so I might reach my word count yet if I keep at it.)
(Or I'll finish some time next year. Whatever.)
Anyway, here's a short selection from yesterday's short story:
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I'm going to kill him.
No, I'm quite serious.
It's my wedding day, and I'm going to be standing there at the altar when she walks down the aisle... and instead of looking at me with those sweet, loving eyes that I fell head over heels for, they're going to pop out of her head and she's going to use that panicked whisper to ask me "What the hell do you think you're doing?" because I'm going to be covered in my best man's vital fluids.
And, to top it off, I’m going to have to hug her while I explain what’s going on, just to keep her from hitting me in the head with her bouquet. I'll probably get something sticky on her dress and then she'll be all "I knew it, we should have just eloped." And then she’s going to start to cry.
Which is probably for the best, because she can’t yell at me if she’s busy crying.
I mean, honestly. We're ten minutes from the ceremony, and he tells me now?! My mother is out there.
Her mother is out there.
Oh, God.
Her father is out there.
And he looks fucking pissed.
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