Supposedly, Hemingway once wrote a story in six words: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." I'm no Hemingway, but I dig the idea of ultra-short stories.
I write them from time to time. You might like some. You can find me on Twitter at @dcwllms.
It was a full house.
Aunts, uncles, cousins and one relative no one could quite place, had filled every part of the house resembling a bed.
He was bunking in the same room as Great Uncle Barry.
He laid, staring at the ceiling as GUB snored till dawn.
A bit of explanation for 122. My pal Chris has a photo-a-day thing going on over at flickr. Today we're doing a project together. He took a picture, then I wrote a story to accompany it. Enjoy. And definitely check out Chris' pictures.
And I wrote:
We lose it as we age.
That ability to imagine things in ways other than they are.