In it up to my armpits…
Debt that is.
It seems I owe everybody something. I owe student loan companies money. I owe my job time. I owe this blog’s readership a post (which I hope to pay in full now).
Deeper and deeper. Up to my armpits. My cat needs his litter changed. My bird needs his seed. My garden, water. My novel, words. My stomach, food.
The world as a tar pit. Or quicksand.
I wake up in the morning unsure of the day. I’m pulling full garbage cans in before the trucks come, and taking empty ones out too late in the week. I’m mowing grass that hasn’t grown while I harvest vegetables that have yet to ripen.
Either time has been going too fast, or it’s stopped.
Either I’m still asleep, or I’m dead.
Did I just write this? Or did the words create me?
I know. You’re reading this and wondering what I’m on. No worries, I just felt like doing some real writing on here for once. That was like a practice session for my stories and such.
So, to pull you out of the deep end, I have had a couple of small story sales. I normally don’t submit to low-paying publications, but I had these 100-word flash pieces sitting around that I didn’t know what to do with.
Anywho, I’ve had two of these accepted to Every Day Fiction, for publication in the coming months.