Morose ghost evades my grasp.

Tired of looking for something to read I’ve challenged my subconscious, to write a story at the very leash some flash fiction that thrives on made up and pretend stuff you know characters that aren’t like you much and you don’t much like me. So an antagonist then, not a protagonist. Tad and Lilly, which, then is then. Let’s not get caught up in glue or in blue. Tad painted race cars for a living.

So line by line the trick is I just make up a line or a sentence that for instance, resemble making doughnuts on the parking lot with the first snow in the foothills. One he painted you see connects the next paragraph which is n to I repeat not necessary. But one of hs painted cars liked doing parking lot doughnuts. 

We, that is writer 1st person her and  me, sold our house without disclosing the morose ghost with a taste for translated German and Russian novels abounding with failing writers, artists, doctors, clerics, which the original owners who were selling the house had left, having come to terms with the ghost who would have gladly moved with them to East Side New York, right close to the Mennonite Hostel their offer did not mention the presence of mostly vegetarian beatnick peaceniks.

This  was not disclosed by the estate agent who knew Mennonites where mostly harmless though they did sometime break into harmonious hymn singing at important moments when Tad and Polly Ann Sharkey where making love causing Tad to lose his erection, and Polly to lose her patience. They were selling the bed with the apartment just in case the bed itself was hexed. It was already in the guest room and might have suited the ghost. They were keen to buy a new bed from the C’mon Down Cowboy Mattress Discount store. BANG! No gun, no gunshot what just happened

Tad and Lily were rolling merrily along when the hip couple turn into a pair who believe they. can buy a mattress from a mattress clearance centre and actually improve their bedtime on the bed kind of sex. Lilly was more interested in sex in other places, where they were in danger. Tad said we’re married aren’t we? What more danger do we want? HE realized as he said it he should have chosen his words more carefully

He once, note, once; tried dress up as a priest but he didn’t know any Catholic, and Polly didn’t find including a rosary as part of the cosplay erotic. There’s a word his semi-conscious had started to bring forward. Cosplay, erotic not so much. Soon, Amazon would deliver a package of argyle socks. One for him and two for her. This indeed is the day the Lord has made. Tad smiled, he would take it from here.




Definitely not enough of my subconscious, semiconscious, dream conscious in here, silly bit but I am writing. I’ve decided to let things stand. Or lie down, or sit, our hang around, staying alive, though. Breathing, always breathing!


This entry was posted in ARCHIVES, Blog, My Life in Pieces. Bookmark the permalink. Trackbacks are closed, but you can post a comment.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *


You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>



Blog Subscription

To receive notification of new articles.