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Plotters Ink: Air Resistance

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The Fiction Writing Arm of Whitesboro Writers Group. Thursday, January 12, 2017. Really, at first I felt goofy looking and awkward. Like watching hippies in a hackysack circle when you can’t see that they’re kicking around a little bag full of beans or rice and they look like a bunch of mental patients standing in a circle and randomly kicking at the air for no apparent reason. And, incidentally, isn’t that the problem with age mostly? As a character portrayal, this adventurer is one that others can rela...

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Plotters Ink: September 2016

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The Fiction Writing Arm of Whitesboro Writers Group. Friday, September 16, 2016. Joan O. Scharf. The lock grated slightly as he turned the skeleton key. Go back to bed, stupid cat! Shoving the cat aside with his sneaker, he moved in silence through a hallway into the front of the house. He remembered the living room from when he delivered the pizza last week. They invited him inside as it was raining, and he had seen the man peel off a twenty from a stack in the desk drawer. That damn cat again! Frowning...

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Plotters Ink: August 2016

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The Fiction Writing Arm of Whitesboro Writers Group. Wednesday, August 24, 2016. He sat in the same room with the rest of the college graduates. He didn’t feel he wanted to talk. Today, he acted nervous. Usually he would joke and carry on and made his friends laugh so hard, they would double over. Jack Penner majored in English Literature. He aced all his other subjects in the four years at the University. He decided to go to college, only because of his mother’s wish. 8220;You’re nervous Jack? The gradu...

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Plotters Ink: January 2017

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The Fiction Writing Arm of Whitesboro Writers Group. Wednesday, January 25, 2017. Nathan Tuband was the unfortunate target of both hard to pronounce name and nickname. Mr. Radatz called him the Plodder. Nathan’s brother was a wisecracking speed demon. Nathan was docile and stolid. “Tuband, you plodder, why didn’t you get some of your brother’s nuts? 8221; Mr. Radatz pronounced Tuband so that it sounded more like Toobad. The blood dripped in my mouth through the next class, and tasted like ashes. It c...

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Plotters Ink: December 2015

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The Fiction Writing Arm of Whitesboro Writers Group. Thursday, December 17, 2015. By P T. DeBlois. The door opened and there stood a lady dressed in a Victorian dress and hat. The sheriff stood up from his chair and introduced himself. “Howdy, ma'am. I'm Sheriff Lambert, Shallow Creek.”. She had an expression of urgency on her face. “Sheriff, My name is Jessica Peters. My father, Claude Peters, was shot by a gunman. I want to see the murderer brought to justice.”. He didn't plan on arguing with this woman.

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Plotters Ink: November 2016

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The Fiction Writing Arm of Whitesboro Writers Group. Saturday, November 19, 2016. By Lester L Weil. Sam turned to see Eric, a fellow member of the local community band. That percussion concerto was great. She. S really a great player. Amazing how she could keep track of all those different drums, not to mention the cymbals and gongs and other paraphernalia, switching from one to another. Wow. There must have been 15 different percussion instruments. More like nineteen. It. Finally Sam asked,. Ll jump out...

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Plotters Ink: July 2016

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The Fiction Writing Arm of Whitesboro Writers Group. Tuesday, July 26, 2016. Living on the road for two or three weeks at a time never took his mind off his family. It was important for Dale Penner to call home whenever he was at a truck stop. His wife, Dawn, and his six-year-old son, Jack, were the loves of his life. Jack would imagine his dad arriving at the house. He’d sit on his swing, pretending to be talking to his father on the CB radio. Spaghetti and meatballs, your favorite.”. 8220;Good evening,...

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Plotters Ink: November 2015

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The Fiction Writing Arm of Whitesboro Writers Group. Saturday, November 14, 2015. Pauli Makes a Living. 8221; Mr. Goshen yelled. He screamed at Pauli, at all of us, “Get out! I’m calling the police! 8221; He made for the phone. But we were out of there before he dialed. Mr. Goshen was usually a calm old man, always smiling when you walked in, always a thank you when you walked out. No one gave him trouble, except Pauli. Why did he let this one nine year old kid intimidate him? By P T. DeBlois. 8220;I'm s...

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Plotters Ink: February 2016

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The Fiction Writing Arm of Whitesboro Writers Group. Saturday, February 27, 2016. The Couch Potato Gambit. 8220;Like an OCD stir-fryer’s kitchen! Nathan grinned expectantly into the rear-view mirror, self-consciously gauging the response. He was steering with his left hand, bracing a tanned short-sleeved right arm in the window frame to display his muscle tone. Niki laughed. “Into necrophilia now? 8220;Sexy Pitt is still alive in the movies, oul Nick.”. 8220;Watching early Brad Pitt movies again? 8220;Na...