He shook with small blades of grass for a millisecond, like he was slow dancing with a dream.     Our eyes locked misty-white, vacant.   When I got to him a red-tinged hue of departure had already taken him.   I pulled a tattered letter from his fingers, the one he asked me to ...

Okay, I have taken the first step in my writing journey. I’ve come out of the closet, so to speak. I have proclaimed myself as a writer for all the world to see. Now what? Good question. I was reading about the steps needed to create a wonderful … not good or nice, but wonderful ...