You know me.
I like to spin a yarn with a sting in its tail.
I try to take you off guard, and lead you to unexpected places.
Of course, I love surprises and misdirections.
I also like to yank a tear from those eager eyes, with a story so desperately sad, that the tears sprout unexpectedly and flow down your cheeks, making you reach instinctively for a handkerchief, or a paper tissue.
But on other days I’m more inclined to attempt to make you laugh, or at least chuckle, and failing that, perhaps a little smile.
Have I frustrated you with wonky plot lines, dubious dialogue or sudden incomprehensible endings?
Probably, for that is often the outcome of a bad writing day.
But at least I have my adorable fur baby to console me with a soft miaow or an awkward caress.
He’s been there forever, it seems, since I picked him up from the rescue shelter.
As soon as I saw that furry ginger kitten, curled into a ball at the back of the cage, I knew that we were destined for each other.
So I called him Vincent, and I pick wild sunflowers to decorate our home.
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I had a big smile writing that. It was fun.
I do like my Sunday Photo Fiction and look forward to it each week.
This story is in memory of Simba, our family cat that disappeared unexpectedly some years ago. I hope he had a happy life after leaving us.
He can be seen in my feature photo.