Horn Clan’s Regards

From a prompt: This wasn’t the country he was familiar with. The hills shot up like knives and the air was crisp… The cliffs fell two hundred feet where they met the sea. Jeremiah sat up close to the edge. He pushed himself back like the cliff wanted to eat him. There were few birdsContinueContinue reading “Horn Clan’s Regards”

Paths – Nonfiction

To be a writer, one must be an alcoholic. That is a truth I have seen now. I drank; I wrote. I stopped drinking; I stopped writing. Now, with whiskey near, it’s flame reaching my innards, I feel engulfed with the writing spirit. That is what alcohol is. It is the spirit within the writer.ContinueContinue reading “Paths – Nonfiction”