said object

Figured I should probably start posting some of my other writing on my blog, isn’t that the purpose more or less?

So, here’s a St. Paddy’s day story challenge up at Fictionaut.

I’ve developed a terrible habit recently: collecting ceramic animals. Specifically, dogs and cats, although occasionally other animals have jumped into the fold, if odd enough of course…

The rabbit was kept in a wooden hut behind the house. Her husband had built the hut, taking great care in its construction. It was her daughter’s rabbit and she seldom took notice of it, often forgetting about it entirely until she would hear a brisk scratching from the backyard. This usually meant the rabbit was hungry and if not for the scratching, she would often forgot to feed it. She’d go out to the hut, throw some pellets in the corner of the hut and leave. Not stopping to pet the rabbit or talk sweetly to the little creature.

So tired of this weather. Ideally, I ‘d like to move to Florida and start a Utopian society. It’s warm, cheap, devoid of hipsters and completely lacking in any sort of irony (okay, probably not entirely true on both parts but…).

Read about this great site “curiouspages” on “hilobrow” the other day.

It’s dedicated to all the lovely, inappropriate books written for for children before the vanilla world of new age began.

One great post was on Margaret Wise Brown’s “The Dead Bird”. Direct and downbeat, it’s a winner.