Word Count: 670
I am falling asleep at my computer. I think it’s time to pack itt in. Of course, I managed to spend a great deal more time than I should have, looking through an old journal for ideas. I found ideas, but still.
Here’s the prologue:
He watched in satisfaction as the flames found the last of the gasoline-soaked paper and whuffed up into the darkening sky. It wasn’t that it made him happy, exactly. In truth it felt more like completion. Completion, or rebirth. And God knew, he needed to be reborn.
Too many mistakes, too many lies to cover those mistakes, too many days wasted by those lies—but that portion of his life was over.
The last sparks of love swirled upward from the fire, dancing a final farewell to the letters that had spawned them. He caressed the leather cover of his journal one last time, then threw it, frisbee-like, into the heart of the flames.
He watched it burn until nothing was left but embers. Then he walked away.
It was time to begin.
And I’ve begun Part One. But now I’m going to bed.