Every time you blog, you run the risk of not being heard. But nobody’s going to make fun of you for it, though it may feel like a wasted opportunity.
That’s when the Second-Chance Dance comes in.
Starting on Thursday and ending on Wednesday, I will collect up to 30 posts that you want to be promoted and feature them on my Twitter and WordPress. Sound good?
Here’s the Inlinkz. Click it and follow the instructions.
Let’s all be kind and give each post a click, like, follow, and extra points for a comment. This is a good way to network, and to expose yourself to different blogs.
Nina rocked gently in her recliner, gazing out the bay window beside her. Her son, a solid six-foot-four, held a branch back for her husband, five-foot-five. They had been messing with that fir tree for weeks now, trimming here and trimming there in preparation for Christmas. Her husband’s sawing arms were ghostly against her son’s olive complexion, and they worked together to bring a sad-looking, tiny limb from the future Christmas tree.
Nina kept rocking, longing to know if her husband’s sample was truly his.
Pillheads had it easier in those days of open-season Medicaid. Three months after proving they lived on the edge, they pulled a flimsy card from the mail indicating they could buy any medication for three bucks. Some pharmacies would bend the rules and let them get their 512’s for free.
Being on heroin wasn’t nearly as easy, and required networking skills. And a thick coat.
My phone buzzed at three o’clock, and I arrived in at the Eno River Park at seven-thirty. The sunrise was breaking, and I felt the afterglow of Christmas in my belly and my veins. I had come alone.
The pigeons were altogether dumb, cocking their heads at each throw of bread crumbs into the falling snow. I breathed out, in time with my pendulum arm-swings, and took a knee. I was close, but I had come so far for a hit.
Angelo was late, as usual. I spat at the ground and shook with desperation. I hadn’t planned on withdrawing to an audience of pigeons.
This image prompt brought to you by Ermilia.
I had hardly gotten the covers over my head and Sharyn was breaking the door down. Continue reading