Wednesday, August 15, 2012


Cecil strode, disgustedly, down the beach. What was the bloody point of having wings if one were reduced to tramping about like any common mammal? He’d have gladly foregone the indignity and winged directly to his nest if he thought it likely he’d survive. Damn the bloody Air Force and their damned new gunnery range!

This story was written for the 55 Word Challenge hosted by my uber-talented wife, Lisa 

1 comment:

  1. I like this one...can already see the look of disgust on Cecil's face in the pic!