“What’s your favorite color?” I ask him.
Category:
Fiction Writings
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A man and his camera stumble through the woods.
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Many were confused and instantly shaken by the turn of events, but I was simply excited about the adventure.
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The Prologue
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Whispers chased each other around the room from ear to ear, but Stella was in her own drunken world of memories.
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There are days when the wind whips between Dinallo and Machuga.
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That’s when I caught it. The yellow in his eye, its inability to look the camera straight on— the film that blurred the window to his soul. Something was wrong, …
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“…I’d pull out my client’s story outline from my leather satchel, and choose which scene to illustrate first, scanning the crowds for the perfect main victim…”
