Red-haired women says he,
The more he finds
If no one minds,
He’ll expose their work regularly!
Now he won’t sell anyone short,
Creative people are good sport(s)…
Of women and men
Poetry is his ken,
Provided he can hold down the fort.
A redhead he used to be,
His freckles are proof you can see…
Certain ones are
His favorites so far,
He loved finding talent beauty!
“Police are searching for escaped convict Leticia Decker, otherwise known as the Lafayetteville’s Lizzy Borden.”
Lonely Mike Dawson shut off the old dusty radio. After twenty two best selling horror novels, he preferred to rummage through his cluttered attic than stare at a blank page.
Lifting a sheet off a table he discovered an old typewriter. “Look at this.”
With one finger he typed D-A-R-K.
His flashlight suddenly died out.
“What the…” Dawson smacked the flashlight several times. It refused to work.
Dawson grabbed the typewriter, stumbled out of the attic, returning to his writing den. Filled with excitement, he accidentally bumped into the door causing it to shut.
Placing the typewriter on his desk, he shoved the laptop aside. He slid a sheet of paper in the type writer feed and spun the platen knob and typed.
Moonlight crept through the open window.
The desk slowly…
View original post 130 more words