Ohmagod, where has the month gone?
Maddy's going to be on Jay Leno.
Trish is going to rewrite a few things in Cinderblock Walls (I hope:)
It's warm back home in Denver...chilly and rainy here.
My latest grandson has grown another foot! Okay, a few centimeters. Cyn is still sighing (I'm betting) "Thank you, Lord. How DID I do it?"
Jazz is stil writing from her heart. God love her.
And...oh. I misspelled the title at Createspace last night..."The Redemotion of Marvin Fuster, Book One." Rats!
I am working on Book Two of "Dear Diary, a Journal From Hell", "Dear Diary, a Journal From...Purgatory"
I announced that it would be up and live on February 1st. Deadlines are good, but WHAT was I thinking!!!!!???
Back to work.
Here's a little sample.
Teresa held my arm tightly as we cleared the vaporous entrance this morning, and both of us stopped dead in our tracks, not anxious to proceed once the panorama made itself visible a few hundred yards in. To either side of us there were at first low cliffs of rocks and boulders, with no vegetation of any sort growing around them. Well, that is not surprising. What flora could possibly survive the gnashing of those rocks? You see, the boulders moved constantly; back and forth against one another as though they were either surprised by the sudden appearance of two travelers, or trying to work themselves free of the soil that bound them. Not in Hell—certainly never on Earth—has the mineral landscape seemed to possess life. But then this is neither Earth nor Hell. My guess is, since the staircase begins at the edge of that doomed kingdom and extends infinitely upward—toward Heaven???—these landings and rooms must be…well, Purgatory. That’s what I’ll call them anyway.
(c) Patrick Sean Lee, 2012