I didn’t write this week, and there were a lot of good stories I read, but, being in a dark mood lately (Methinks I’m more Jessica than Helena in these cold winter months!) THIS THIS THIS is the story I wish I’d written. If you haven’t read it yet, read it now. If you only read it once, read it again — There are nuances here that you may miss at a casual glance — that’s just how Hannah works — she expects a lot out of her readers — but believe me when I say (and go read her other work if you don’t believe me) that the work is worth it — the reward is usually a punch to the emotional guts — but it’ll remind you why you love being alive!
I’m Helena Hann-Basquiat, your favourite dilettante, and I heartily endorse this message. No, I’m not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV — just go read the story, dammit!
Friday Fictioneers–one picture, one hundred words, countless different interpretations. For further explanation or to play along, go here.
“Hello?” Tex squinted against the sun streaming off the rusty tin roof. A man with a beard blackened by either grease or tobacco appeared, hiking up a pair of pants that had seen better days. In the 1930s.
“What can I do ya for?” the man asked.
“Just directions back to the highway.”
“Ah,” the geezer looked disappointed. He sketched out directions on the back of a greasy envelope. Tex thanked him and turned to go when a young woman appeared at the screen door.
“Some water before I go?” Tex asked.
He didn’t need the man’s map after all.
P.S. No one died this week, a rarity at this blog for FF.