Yep you read that right. We are setting up a publishing data house where you can submit your work and ...
I am applying to be the main hero of this fairy tale.
The acrid smells of cigarette butts and stale beer hover above the music blaring from the jukebox and the noisy banter on an early afternoon in the Windhoek pub.
The initial paperwork was signed a year to the day after they met. This was seen as proper protocol. Both parties were far from satisfied with the partnership but the merger went ahead anyway, they both had something to gain after all
We told our parents we were going fishing. My brother stuffed contraband down one of his bootlegs, and we set out for the creek in the woods behind our house. Nothing good ever came from those boots. He wore them black and with a pointed toe.
He was attractive in a rugged, older sort of way. I think I heard someone say he was twenty-six. I wore my cutest red top the next day, the one that shows off my chest without being slutty.
It was nearly evening when a young albino came to the café that I was in and sat down at one of the tables.
The White Suit by Marijke Hillmann
“Penny,” said she. “Chickens. I was thinking of Jeff and Jen.” “They’re not …”
“Hurry, we got to go!” “No, wait, my shoe…” “Tie them in the car.” Ben took his left boot by the long laces and trotted to the car with high beams. He was always running late, forgetting items, loosing track of time.