Genghis Khan (source: planetforward.ca)
Since he came to the kindergarten kicking and screaming, the kernel of his being was a Khan. Of course, he could not get away with killing anyone, but he could call his kleptomania tribute and none of the other kids complained to the grown-ups.
Then one day, he kissed the Korean kid’s teddy Koala and said it was a girl. This made the Korean kid discover the kobold in his belly. At first it seemed like a crow combating a komodo dragon, but then the Korean kid found a kris and they turned into Kilkenny cats.
Kyrie eleison was sung over both their corpses in the church.
Posted by W. R. Woolf on May 17, 2013
The Knight Errant. “The distressful maiden has been despitefully used by robbers, who have been dispersed by the gallant knight.” (From the Tate Gallery) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
She dreams of delight.
The delight of destroying the delirious damsels who don their distress like a distracting dress to draw the beaus in at dusk.
Disdain is all she has to offer them, disdain and death, and definitely, she says, their destiny will drag them down before long despite their self-deception.
Some might discuss this desire of hers for the despair of a great deal of dames. Some might deem it distasteful or despicable, dreadful even, but she could not be more disinterested in their discourse if they were dust bunnies in the dark corners of her attic.
Deeming her desire appropriate does not make a difference in her eyes which she deigns not let fall on anything less than a deity. Her decision to dash their delusions depended only on what she describes as: ‘her decency’.
She will never declare defeat.
Posted by W. R. Woolf on April 19, 2013
She had an obsession with toilet paper. All kinds of toilet paper. She spent every penny she could afford on it, but still hid it all if she had guests over for dinner. His became increasingly difficult, as the rolls filled up first her cupboards then her wardrobes and all the nooks and crannies she could find.
In the end she decided it would be easier without the guests and she stopped inviting people, and since the people she knew seldom invited themselves, this practically solved her problem.
She had had the obsession since the day when the leaves fell up from the trees. Nothing seemed to be in the right place after that, but at least her toilet paper was always where she left it.
Recently, I followed a link posted by alexp01 http://www.nanowrimo.org/en/forums/adoption-society and found the “adopt a weird obsession” subject. Then I talked with a friend about weird obsessions and somehow we ended up talking about toilet paper. This is the result.
Posted by W. R. Woolf on July 4, 2012
Here I am again staring at the screen. Willing new and interesting words to appear, but where are they? They say the only way to leave writer’s block behind is to write oneself out of it. So here I am. Trying.
If I have a muse, she must have gone on vacation somewhere close to my first exam, and even though I am done, she has not returned. How does one entice a muse to come back to work? Flowers? Chocolate? I am sure some chocolate would help. I had better eat some (says the chocoholic).
mmmm… Lovely. Now where did that muse get to? Perhaps she got lost in the mess on my desk? I suppose I could tidy it up just a little bit…
Done, but there was no muse hiding in the debris. Or wait. What is this? An old scrap of paper with a few scribbled words. It sounds like something from a dream. Or something I wrote in the middle of the night which is basically the same. Hmm… If I have a muse, I think she just gave me a hint.
What do you do when your muse goes away on holiday?
Posted by W. R. Woolf on June 29, 2012
Some time ago now I visited Bipolarmuse’s blog and read her post “A Quote about Madness” it was illustrated with this picture:
And underneath were the words: You always have the choice to move forward.
The picture and the words haunted me. And before I knew it I was writing a new story.
So in a minute I’ll post the first part of “Moving Forwards”(working title).
I hope you will all enjoy it
Posted by W. R. Woolf on February 22, 2012