Ok...I really can't write. Everything I have ever written, if it has been anything decent at all, has been accidental--much like that monkey typing Shakespear. That is how I have felt lately. Have had quite a few moments of "YOU SUCK!" And why is this? Because that damned Spring Anthology has me sitting here with the classic 'deer in the headlights' look (which I am starting to think is actually my normal look).

So anyway... I have written at least six different things and scrapped them all. I have finally come up with an idea that I think might fly. Maybe. If I can get my brain to function. Going to post a bit of what I have written so far. It may be the beginning, but it is more likely to be very near the beginning, with something else I have in my head coming before it.

Does it have a prayer?

It was late, after midnight, and the street was deserted; the houses that lined it, dark. The warm summer breeze brushed my hair back from my face as I looked up at the sky. The full moon backlit clouds that held the promise of rain, creating dark, mysterious moving shapes in the sky. It would storm before dawn. The electricity in the air was already palpable.

 

But still, it was just another night, a night like any of the nights before, nights so many I could not count them. I never knew why I made the choice I made. There was never any careful considering or really, any thought at all. I would just decide. I would be walking along one moment and the next I would turn my steps in a different direction, selecting one at random. That night was no different. Random choice; random chance.

 

The curtains fluttered through the open window, the turbulent air drawing them out as often as blowing them in. Perhaps that might have caught my eye, might be what drew me to that particular window on that particular night. Or perhaps it was the way the moon seemed to be pointing a finger, its bright light breaking through an opening in the clouds and shining like a beacon through that open window.

 

A beacon