Benedict Arnold

He looked at me. I wondered what he was offering with that glance. Somehow, it said so much more than the words he was speaking. His eyes were fraught with both promise and betrayal.

"I just want to try this one thing."

And he did. And I did. And we did.

My blood flowed like the red wine that I could see sparkling in the bowl of the glass on the table--no longer my friend, but a Benedict Arnold in liquid form.

The Concept

I miss writing. I miss putting ideas and scenarios and life and words "on paper", as it were. I used to write daily.... I wrote short stories and a short Phantom of the Opera fanfic novel, and research papers, and poems and just snippets of ideas. I can't commit to a full novel at this point. Nor do I have anything to research. This is a place for me to begin honing my craft again. Additionally, having a blog gives me some kind of impetus to write every day. Hopefully some of these rather short short stories will help me to eventually write that full-length novel I've been dreaming of for years.