Tuesday, June 5, 2007

June 4

The worn down word wrangler heaved a sigh at the gray light spreading across the window.

Vague memories from the night before taunted a groggy mind. Close, but not close enough for capture, and as the veil of grogginess slowly lifted, they took flight like elusive butterflies.

What was the problem? Where was the wordsmith that could mold the written word into such delightful descriptions? Where was the story teller that could twist plots and throw red herrings with the best of them? Hiding? Lost? On vacation without notification? Kidnapped by some nefarious enemy?

Now that would be a twist…

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