Monday, August 04, 2014

Dog has been enjoying the midnight hours. They’re cooler and I stick him out doors. The problem with that, him being a dog and all, is dogs bark at game. Rabbits, Coons, Cats and possum. And even, occasionally, skunks.

Last night was skunks.

I arrived, sleep laden, just in time. Skunks do not retreat. They quick step toward trouble. They do.

I don’t.

There are times when dog is not heavy. Like a brother. Like . . . like last night.

Have you ever noticed, providing you read fiction, how the author does the suspense thingy.

They identify the protagonist. They identify the antagonist. And then they create a modicum of sympathy for the poor hapless, deluded, supporters of the antagonist.  Then they agonize the protagonist by having them know they are going to kill innocents, but they do that for the greater good of man kind.

Flashing back and forth to agony to why the need,  and emphising the hero;s aloneness. Him against the universe, only he understands the situation and his judgment is absolute.

“Course, mass kilings, the more the merrier. Even in theaters and schools.


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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