Writing is like playing music... you're always working to get better at it:)
The old orange pickup with the knobby tires bought from a sale at the state highway department held its ground as it trudged along the snowy expressway toward downtown. This truck had dueled with worse weather and won. Wearing a tux and driving this rattletrap might have drawn attention but not on a night like this.
By Jim Feeny4 years ago in Fiction
When does childhood start to slip away and the world of responsibility begin to intrude? There are as many answers as there are people. For me it began when I was twelve.
The car ride from their condo to Dulles airport was silent. Elizabeth was peeved at her husband. She had given him several rounds of great sex last night to send him off on his overseas trip but he always wanted more, and he was older than she was. She was also mad about this trip. It seemed so unnecessary. Was he being completely truthful about its purpose?
It was our high school's only fundraiser and it was a big deal. Students canvassed the entire city with their books of raffle tickets, hungry for sales. They were everywhere, at convenience stores, outside supermarkets, in bowling alleys, at the malls, waving their books of tickets calling, “A buck a piece or six for five.”
By Jim Feeny5 years ago in Humans
