The Stud is sitting at the corner table already, playing with a shot-glass full of clear liquid like it’s beneath him.
“Hoy!” Calls the Weasel as he sidles over, all paper-thin confidence and affection…
This is an unusual Sunday here at Elephant Words. It’s the first since the beginning of the site not to feature a new image to spark the imagination of the writers. The site has been running since July 2007, and it’s probably the creative endeavour
There are monsters inside some of these boxes. Some of them were gifts from my parents. Some of them I got elsewhere, from other people, during my childhood. A few, though not as many, found me as an adult. I picture this as a room