Goodbye 2017. Hello 2018.
My only New Year’s resolution is to write. One thing I’m going to try and do is write a story every week. Some will be flash, some will be longer. I think it might be a little too ambitious, but I’d rather fail than not try, so here goes.
2017 brought my first published story. I have three stories out on submission right now. Maybe I’ll try and submit one a month, and see what 2018 brings.
My voice, most of the time, is unusually short sentences, so I’m practicing the opposite. My first story for 2018 is flash and weighs in with just TWO sentences. But the first one is 91 words long. The year starts, as it should, with childhood. Not mine, though.
Remembering My Friend
Amaya would do this thing where she’d stretch the ruffles of her dress wide and spin her feet in a slow, staccato circle and no matter what we were playing–marbles on the porch, hopscotch on the walk–we all stopped and admired my best friend for those seconds when she escaped our world and entered one of her own a million miles away where she was wealthy and fantastic and beautiful, and then she would come back to us and we’d resume our game, not worrying anymore who might win.
This was before her father stole her back across the border and my summers ended.
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Thank you for stopping by and reading. Hope you enjoyed.