Surviving Election Day

It’s late in the day. Actually, it’s November 9th already. The election isn’t over here in the US, and I’m sure many people are still awake watching it. I’m currently wired for reasons completely unrelated. So, I thought I’d share with you a story through memes. Let’s lighten up the mood, y’all!


The puppy got to thinking about what the mailman said. “Hmm…maybe it’s not all that bad to be cute.”


*Puppy stands in corner, making a high-pitched barking noise.*

Me thinks the puppy let the mailman’s words get to his head.

The end!

P.S. I am not at all winning NaNoWriMo. I am winning at corny jokes, though. Here’s one about a sandwich:

Peanut butter: “You’re way too sweet.”

Jam: “Are you jelly?”

See? Told you it was corny. This is where you laugh anyway.

A Precipice

I’m often awake when most are sleeping, and in those quiet moments, I find myself doing one of two things: watching a TV show, or thinking. I prefer the former, however lately, it’s been the latter. In my introspective state, a rather vulnerable one, I’ve decided to put myself out there again and give you a fragment of a story-in-progress. It’s a product of deep-seated emotions I had, ones that simmered just under the surface until I sat at my laptop, closed my eyes, and wrote. It was months, guys. We’re talking 7 months of an itch I refused to scratch. So, for my first ever piece of the Nightfall Stories (all the writing I post that, you guessed it, makes it past my self-conscious radar in the middle of the night) is “A Precipice.”

“Where do we go from here?” Alexander asked the question we both knew was coming.

I glanced over to his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket, and his eyes fixed on the horizon. I was at a loss. We were on a precipice; the tip of either the end or the beginning. Neither of us knew which it would be, nor did we want to.

“I don’t know.” It was my go-to answer. I don’t know. What do you think? What should we do? Non-committal. I followed his gaze and traced the treetops with my own. “It’s a little ironic that we’re standing on the top of a hill, isn’t it?”

I laughed. I think.

“Yeah.” His breath wafted in waves from his nose into the cool air.

He sat on the frosted earth and patted the spot next to him. I flinched as the cold seeped through my jeans, and he drew me into his side. Pulling my hood farther down, he kissed the top of my head and said, “We’ll figure it out.”

I buried my head into his chest as a harsh wind blew around us.