The Present – Southwest Atlanta, Jan. 19, 8pm I open the door of the abandoned house, and the palm of a massive hand forces me backwards. It pushes me all the way into a chair in the corner of the room. The man’s other hand is clutching a piece of thin yellow paper, the type […]
I think writers have to able to enjoy solitude rather than just endure it. I’ve always enjoyed being left alone with my imagination, ever since I was a kid.