His tone was strange, considering the message; matter-of-fact, rather than messianic. It was as if the Savior had popped down to Hank's for a beer or two, and would be returning shortly.'

or if he was going to cause trouble. When he wandered aimlessly back into the street, I went back to my lunch. If he was a member of the local homeless community, I wasn't worried. They were a sweet bunch, non-violent, keeping the sidewalks clear of recyclables which they turned in for pocket change. It was the beat cops who got my blood up, constantly staging 'move-alongs' in the encampments, harassing everybody, confiscating personal belongings, getting away with anything a badge could indemnify you against.

I took another bite, checked my watch, and wondered when Shana was going to show up. It had been three months and she had moved on already. Her new beau was named Cougar Van Wart, and he almost deserved it. I saw them once sitting together at the fountain in Seattle Center. He was making goo-goo eyes at her, and should have been wearing a sign reading "Rebound Relationship."

'Heartache and the loss of God', a line from a poem by Jim Morrison, drifted through my brain as I wondered if I was being too hard on the guy. Shana wasn't what I would call a bitch; she was more of a minor feminine irritation. We had agreed on a meeting over coffee to see if we could patch things up. She didn't want to get back together, but she wanted to make good on our mutual hollow promise to 'remain friends'.

I’m already hooked and feeling a little sorry for Cougar, seems he might have caught more than he can hold onto 😬

I started that fragment twenty or so years ago, and couldn't make anything out of it...

Somebody murders somebody or maybe a little grand larceny. Maybe she takes poor cougars $100,000 lottery ticket without him even knowing he had a winner 😬

Maybe I'll think of something...

Looking forward to the next installment.

in a crowded Wisconsin tavern last evening ... soon sadly prophetic for most of the patrons gathered closely together, reveling boisterously...

✌🏼

You guys are good. If I can flesh some of these out I will post them here. But I can nail the opening, but run out or gas quickly.
Thank you so much for the inspiration. I feel less alone now. I am certainly thinking of other things now!

I’m Aurora and I’ve got a ring on my finger but time on my hands.

"...looked at me, and said: 'If they want me, Frank, they can get me. Anyone can get a President, if they're willing to trade their life for his.' And just a week later, he came back from Dallas in a box."

I threw that cheap POS in the garbage...

Their paths did not cross – more accurately, their lives collided.

Like an airplane disaster, the tragedy touched many lives, the debris was scattered over many miles.

Damage – inestimable. Survivors – none.

And it would be years before all the wreckage was found.




(BTW - Great idea for a thread!)

Don told me many, many years ago that he’d come up with a great opening line for a novel: ”Zeke’s grandmother always ate with one eye closed.”

I had to agree that it was an intriguing opener. I immediately wanted to know who Zeke was, and why his grandmother always eats with one eye closed.

“I know, right”, said Don. “It’s a line that just draws the reader in, right?”

He then explained that if he could only come up with another 200-or-so pages full of interesting characters, snappy dialogue, and a plot, he’d have a bestseller on his hands.

This is my mind.
Like they say... I have many ideas. Some of them are bad...but I have a lot of them.

"I never saw my father, possibly because he saw me first."

Wolf