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Honesty.

She mistakenly opened her lips, and the words fled. There was no longer any hiding, the plain truth was out for all the world to hear: failure was upon her. The words had escaped into the darkness that provided no comfort. It is the dark night's where people see most clearly. She turned to run, but couldn't shake loose of herself. A shadow of what she was clung to her as she flew across the darkened landscape, trying to be free .

The Merpeople. Story forthcoming, based on image. Work in progress.

The decision to start writing again was not one taken lightly.
There's rust on my finger tips and the purple part of my brain.
Re-working older stuff, scribbing new stuff.
Have boxes and boxed of stories I wrote age 6-21. Then I got all abstract, and then I stopped.
Attempting to regain some eloquence and creativity, and mash into some story-telling.

Carnivale