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My First Short StoryA Beautiful DayMy First Short Story
1.
The wind ruffled his hair. The irony was not lost on him, it was a beautiful day. He remembered getting up in the usual way; 7 am crumpets and tea. Just like his mother had always prepared for him. He made breakfast himself now; his mother had died two summers ago. He had been left the house and what remained of the mortgage. He didn’t mind, though; it gave him something to do, something to look forward to each month.
But today company was coming. He walked over to the silent telephone and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’ He looked at the receiver as if it was broken and th
by ~jahnkes
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this should get you started... some familiar faces...
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My shoes are too tight, but it doesn't matter for I have forgotten how to dance.- Londo Mollari
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My shoes are too tight, but it doesn't matter for I have forgotten how to dance.- Londo Mollari
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