Write four lines of prose about: the ghost town.
Got things moving again with my writing this morning. It's all in the approach sometimes. Now that I've got a method to my madness, I'm hoping to start making serious progress in the coming weeks.
Back at the bakery tomorrow, before they're closing for a week so that Sean and Shannon can move from their current house into a new place. Once the bakery opens up again (Feb 8th) I'll be taking over front counter duties Wednesday to Saturday, as Emma will be departing from her Wednesday to Friday shifts.
Looking forward to the extra income, but I'll still be keeping an eye out for something a little more secure and with higher pay.
While also still working away at this writing stuff, of course.
The leafless trees lining Main Street still rustle with memories of a long-past autumn when the north wind passes through town. But even the wind knows better than to linger here, so the echoing sound never lasts for long.
Not that anyone is ever around to hear it. Just me and some old friends, and we shall keep watch over our hometown for all of eternity.