I write down mini stories a lot on the train. It is my attempt at writing more fiction. Usually I will have material for one story idea or article written on several pages inside different magazines. Since there is no coordination, or real organization, seldom does anything ever come of it.
Since there is also no confidence in my ability to do this-I tend to only publish short excerpts at a time.
Like this one:
And he felt her hand grabbing his and instantly knew what was about to take place. He was hungry for her and likes to think she is the same for him, but deep-down he knows better. If there was such a thing as Heaven on Earth, the way she feels wrapped around him would be it. He searches her face for signs. Signs of something; anything. His eyes meet hers and the look she returns seems to say, “You will never know me.”
How does it begin, how does it end? Well, I (or you) won’t really know unless I try; and I don’t know if I have the energy to.
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