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Digging the Bones

July 23, 2013
This is what happens when I don't write.

Digging up old microfictions, because sometimes looking back keeps me motivated moving forward.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

According to science, all things are possible, though most things are highly improbable.

Ok,

well then it seems fair to say that, it’s unlikely, but it’s possible, that the electricity firing between the synapses of my brain as I’m daydreaming could,

and I emphasise could;

COULD, in theory, give birth to some kind of thought monstrosity, cobbled together from

wayward thoughts and flash images and things I need to remember to do tomorrow.  This creature

(and creature is definitely the word, a creation.  A creaturation.)

could be in the world already, feeding off the synaptic firings of struggling writers and con men; invisible, intriguing, insistent.

 

In theory.

 

I wish I knew what it was after though.  Its scent is becoming distracting; it leaves the decaying bones of ideas around, and digs great holes in my mind.

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