MEOW

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         Here
       I  sit in
    the branches high
  above watching people 
  walk past below me un-
  aware  of  me I scaled 
  here because I  could 
   to prove to myself
    and to the world 
      I am happy 
         now.
          I
          s
          p
          r
          i
          n
          g
          t
          o
         the
        ground.
    M   E   O    W

So, I don’t normally *do* poetry, but this sorta came to me last night while laying in bed. I scribbled it down, and this morning my wife convinced me to post it. Please be gentle 😉
-CP

New blog, and stories in the works

Hi folks,

I now have a second blog – Professing Ideas – on which I’m blogging about… well, anything, really. I try to post on that site daily and am hoping that finding the time to post on that site will help me develop a writing routine and make it easier to update on this site.

Speaking of sites, I’ve now switched to WordPress. Blogger was good, but there were certain aspects of WordPress that I enjoyed more. Everything is still up in the air right now about site layout and theme, but hopefully things will get nailed down in the coming weeks.

Finally, I have ideas for my next story post. That having been said, they’re just ideas at this point, nothing has been put on paper yet. Hopefully I get something done soon. I’d really like for less than a month to pass between story posts…

In the meantime, Mystery Guitar Man made a really interesting post about π on his blog:

π by Mystery Guitar Man

Don’t know who Mystery Guitar Man is? Go check out his Youtube page:

Mystery Guitar Man’s Youtube page

-CP

The Warehouse

He ducked behind the crate, gasping for breath. The wall in front of him exploded in a cloud of concrete dust, shavings of the material pelleting him in the face. The gunfire continued behind him.

Thank god they’re such lousy shots.

He took a moment to get his bearings. Luckily, it seemed the crate he was crouched behind was made of sturdier material than the wall of the massive warehouse. He could feel the dull thud of bullets striking the crate, but the fact that his body wasn’t developing a new ventilation system was a testament to the dark crate’s material.

But for how long? Gotta move…

With his shirt collar pulled up to cover his nose in hopes of blocking out some of the dust, he took off along the pathway between the crate and the wall.

As her neared the edge of the long crate the gunfire suddenly stopped. The silence was almost deafening. He strained to hear where the gunmen were.

Read the rest here

After a short hiatus, I’m back…

Hi all!

I’m back! Sorta… After the Christmas break things around here became quite hectic and busy, leaving my mind in a state that simply wasn’t conducive to writing. I think I’ve managed to recover a bit from that, and am hoping that I’ll manage to have a new story written for later this week (hopefully).

Thanks to Skajaquada for the great posts from during my down time. Keep those awesome (and oft dark and creepy) posts coming!

So, while you wait for our next posts, be sure to check out the last post from Skajaquada:
Rorrim

Also, here’s a link to a favourite of my own stories:
The Hunt

As always, check out our other work on the right. If you’d like to contribute something of your own, let us know!

-CP