I’ve taken up running again during this quarantine. I used to do it regularly. I played sports my whole young life, so the actual mechanics and the act of it were second nature to me. Even after I gave up sports, I used to lace up my shoes twice or three times a week and …
Continue reading The Hardest Part is the Middle – Running and Writing
Part 1: https://sjcwrites.home.blog/2020/05/04/nightcrawlers/ Part 2: https://sjcwrites.home.blog/2020/05/06/nightcrawlers-part-2/ A high pitched squeal, a layered tone of glass shattering white noise and a guttural hoarse growling underneath, rang throughout the store. And he heard footsteps outside, scrabbling over the broken stonework and debris. Isaac lay still, ears strained and still ringing. And then from the front of the …
He woke. There was a wave that floated through his head, and as it passed through him it filled him with ease and a sense of weightlessness. But then he woke. He saw up in bed. She was gone already. He faintly remembered the sound of the shower running, the noise of her barefoot padding …
Part 1: https://sjcwrites.home.blog/2020/05/04/nightcrawlers/ The store looked to be a large pharmacy chain. Rows of high shelves ran from where they stood to the far wall several hundred yards away. Some of the shelves had toppled, spilling their contents on the floor, and the lights overhead were broken, but other than that the place looked untouched. …
Photo by Dan Meyers on Unsplash They came at night. And night was fast approaching. Isaac quickened his pace, through the abandoned streets, his boots crunching over broken glass and gravel underneath, eyes scouring the empty shop windows and the shadows down the alleyways. His hands drifted to the pistol holstered on his belt, and the varmint rifle …
“Have you got that line ready?” Tom said from the bow of the little boat. Jacob looked at him with a disproving face. “You’re after making me fuck this one up, he said. “Now I have to start again.” He turned his attention back to the very fine twine in his hands, and the feathered …
Writes Of Passage 