P.S. Gear's Blog, page 75
January 20, 2016
January 18, 2016
Give a Guy a Break (Flash Fiction)
She didn’t give a fuck; that much was obvious. I stumbled, legs collapsing underneath me. I tried to catch myself but I all I managed to do was jam both elbows. Remember catching a basketball or obelisk the wrong way and jamming a finger? Like that. Just in my elbows.
I know, right?
The pain sucked but the expectation of death was what tore my heart in half and spiraled my breathing into desperate hyperventilation. I know, I know. Vampires aren’t supposed to breathe. Just like there can be no...
January 15, 2016
January 13, 2016
Getting Back On (Flash Fiction)
Jarrod couldn’t breathe. On the ground, he stared up at the clear, cold January sky that only 10 minutes ago had been a mix of ink black and deep navy. He grimaced, praying that his mom to stayed put, and thankful for each second that kept the morning free from her frantic shouts.
He knew was standing at the kitchen window watching him; ready to pounce if he looked hurt. The ardent prayers helped Jarrod forget about not being able to breathe, until suddenly he could. He got onto all fours, a...
January 11, 2016
January 8, 2016
January 7, 2016
L&P #15I rememberwatching The Wind in the Willowsas a kidI...
L&P #15
I remember
watching The Wind in the Willows
as a kid
I was taken by the fantasy
Quirk and frivolity
that danced before me
They became a need
that took over me,
To the roll of so many eyes
and too-indulgent smiles.
Silliness does not
avoid life
and all its foibles
Rather, it embraces reality
Touching it with
empathy, sarcasm,
laughter, and tears.
Fantasy is not escape.
Fantasy is perception;
1/3/16
Jon Wilkening & p.s.w.
Originally posted at pswgear.com @jonwilkeningphotography
January 6, 2016
Lucy Says Hello (Flash Fiction)
“So you gonna ride or what?” I leaned back against the corral gate, taking in the horizon of the setting suns. The sky was cloudless and the air dry, which meant a cold night. A cold night that would set in fast if I didn’t get this cadet on her beast.
“It’s just so big,” said the cadet, her big eyes cast wide as she took in Lucy.
I smiled, following the cadet’s eyes to the Class IV Insectoid, #23A75. I hated the terminology; I’d reared #23A75 since she hatched. I named her Lucy after she pus...
