We forget to see in the mirror our own peculiar spark, the quality in our reflection that spurs others on, and becomes the feather for their arrows …

The Writer

Four a.m. is a hell of a time to begin revisions to your life, but sometimes anytime is the right time.

For me, at this moment, night time is the right time…

My better half is barely asleep, somehow caught up in the misery that awaits tomorrows work schedule… Nevertheless she fights the good fight, forcing herself to succumb to a brief moment of narcotic slumber that as we all know has it’s own special rudeness- once we awaken.

So the story goes…

The Story

No one misses a bus.It just doesn’t happen.mistiming is a possibility, though rare- the random combination of a barely missed breakfast can lead to a potentially fatal encounteronce the bus has been missed… but typically- no one ever misses the bus.

I missed the bus.

Slogans and advertisements flashed by- as I realized that whatever laid ahead wasn’t going to be fate, rather, the simple fact that I had missed an appointment to heavens doorstep.

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3 thoughts on “We forget to see in the mirror our own peculiar spark, the quality in our reflection that spurs others on, and becomes the feather for their arrows …

  1. Just piecing together snippets to incorporate for a novel. 🙂
    Thanks for taking the time to respond and read.

  2. Ok, I’m confused. I used the link from Mudflats to get to the story on which I first commented, but now I have looked at other writings on your site. Is your site a journal of your experiences, or is it a series of partial stories, some related and others not? What is real and what isn’t? As I read – and I’m finding some very good stuff here – I sense truth about your current life, and then I feel like I have taken a trip through your imagination. I’m becoming a bit disconnected in my own mind as I read, though, and I need some grounding to make sense of your blog. Perhaps if I knew the purpose of your blog, that would help.

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