Secret Flask

In the growing dim, she carefully slipped into the couch cushion and pulled an engraved flask that spelled “Badass”. It had passed through a garage sale for a buck a summer ago. Only a small light above the stove provided contrast for her thoughts.

“Those creditors can kiss my ass. Why should I compromise my basic needs for them?”

She did not indulge the contents for her lips to sip the sizzle. Having it was enough; she loved its soft leather sheath.

“Fuck it. I am me and that is who I am. Hold me, please.”

Published by darren thompson

hello invisible people, I have lived well and continue to live well enough. I hope the same for you. Writing during a pandemic with catastrophic wildfires, hurricanes, economic collapse, political strife, and toxic air means one tends to be pretty sedentary. I am reminded of our last trip to Cartagena, Colombia and the gang of sloths hanging out in the trees. Funny, I don't think sloths are ever behind schedule though. The book, FALLEN, is near completion. I know I've said this before, but I am definitely in the final lap with it. Though, I have not settled on the publishing or marketing of it, yet. I am not even sure how I will use this website. Admittedly, I've been writing on this bit for the better part of ten years. My mind has been wrapped around some weird urban sci-fi-fantasy junk. Feels like a twisted premonition of what is happening today. On another creative front, I am setting up a new website called: vomitpages.com which I am kind of excited about. These are writings and ramblings and musings of life when I am out of the flow with writer's block. There projects within projects there. Oh, I live in the Columbia River Gorge of the PACIFIC NORTHWEST. My characters are way more interesting. thanks.

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