Saturday, July 05, 2014

It was the best of times, . . .

That’s one way to start a tale. Another way is:

Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlour of Laburnum villa the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly.

Having endured the 4th of July gaudy bombs bursting until twelve thirty last night, I had searched the web for distractors – short stories. Several have stood the test of time (and meet the criteria of copy rights), meaning that they could be published without fear.u

I was impressed with the simplicity of the writing. I mean, really. The writers were known, mostly, but the respect their works garnered when the writing was done, looking back from the now times just enhanced the feeling of the simplicity and directness of their prose.

I had to read a couple of stories before I stopped jumping to the conclusion of where the story was trying to lead me – which has always been a reading fault of mine and one which has spoilt more than one book for me.

The partial quote above came from Monkey’s Paw, W.W. Jacobs, circa 1902. It is one the http://americanliterature.com/ site.

As yesterday was a fine day and I did little, today is going to be the BBQ ribs day. According to the MSN the best day to shop for groceries is . . . Mmm, when I’m not hungry. So I suppose Monday is going to be a good day.

And the best day to to do Facebook and Tweet is Sunday, so I’ll have  time to BBQ.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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