stories, 1

I'm filling up a small sheet of paper with 5 stories. Each of them can only be as long as the A5 sized section allotted to it. It's just a little exercise to try and get started on writing again. When they're all finished I will scan the paper but until then I'll just transcribe the first one. It doesn't have a title and is inspired by a man I saw walking down the road.

The beginning. Once upon a time there lived a man a very very hairy man who was called the wolf-man for the very pure and extremely simple reason that his father had been a wolf a grey brindled old thingwith one scarred ear. The wolf man was as I said already very hairy. His hair was luscious and silken over it grew from his hair in whorls down his neck in ripples then and eddies over the knotted constraints of his back near the shoulders where he had to work hard to keep the wolf part of himself inside here it became more of a full flow into the small of his back as if in relief at its release. From the small of his back his hair stretched and curled itself around his sides to curlicue its satin self around to his stomach from whence it tumbled up in alphabetic forms to the crunching indent of his navel and up up up up to greet his beard. I don't know what happened below the waist because he always ore trousers of course to protect his modesty. Even when it was winter he would take off his shirt and parade the streets and people would stare at the signs and wonders that may be hidden in the patterns shifting through that hair but he just bared his teeth at them all and strode on by. THE TRUTH. The end.

Right, back to what I was doing before which was singing along to Johnny Cash and eating apples.