Dipping my quill into the ink pool, gives me pause to consider how this ink writes deep crimson and dries brown. I have disposed well of my master's body, but, thanks to my family's long history of embalming, his blood is here with which to write my manifesto.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
The Writing Master, a 100 word story
“Write! Write every day!” Is what that relentless, olds taskmaster would holler
at us, his students, in his daily admonitions. “Study the greats! Every moment
you can. You must study the greatest minds in history!” Often he had
said to get into their brains, to push us in writing our own masterpieces.
Dipping my quill into the ink pool, gives me pause to consider how this ink writes deep crimson and dries brown. I have disposed well of my master's body, but, thanks to my family's long history of embalming, his blood is here with which to write my manifesto.
Dipping my quill into the ink pool, gives me pause to consider how this ink writes deep crimson and dries brown. I have disposed well of my master's body, but, thanks to my family's long history of embalming, his blood is here with which to write my manifesto.
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