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Christopher Mitchell
A post modern Archie Bunker. It's all going to Hell in a handbasket.
A post modern Archie Bunker. It's all going to Hell in a handbasket.

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Circus (Blogophilia 8.10)
Yeah, I thought about a story. Couldn’t really get a good idea.   Then I thought about writing about Easter and Holy Week. That had some possibilities, since the statement “He is risen” and copious amounts of incense brings back all the back-slid to prove t...

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Wind Woman (Blogophilia 7.10)
The afghan hung loosely, knots struggling to maintain. The gale was relentless, drumming branches in time to the Beelzebub's whim. There was no time here. The sun stayed directly above, never relinquishing a grip to the moon. Shadowy and slight, the Wind W...

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A lovely piece to start the morning.

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Lake (Blogophilia 6.10)
It had been a wonderful day. The weather was cool, but it didn't keep him out of the canoe. Paddling around the little lake was a tradition with him. There were always neat stuff to see. The girls went with him this time, both of them giggling as Jimmy adju...

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Too Much Bota (Blogophilia 5.10)
So the topic is “On the Road Again?” Kind of a tough one, since I just did a road trip story. But, that means I’ll have to use chance operations. Maybe my mind will get enriched. Like noticing the pic for this week Is the perfect finish to a romantic weeken...

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he'd skipped last period. It wasn't like he wasn't going to pass
History. He'd aced all the tests and reading was done for the semester.
Only thing left was the Lit term paper due Friday and he’d be done. Time
until summer marked in long, boring h...

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Santa Monica Boulevard (Blogophilia 4.10)
Sweat beaded along the wrinkled brow as he hosed off the muck. The temperature gauge on the side of the building read 113."Lo, though I walk the valley of death, I shall fear no evil", wasn't it how it went? It had been so long since he'd with those hypocri...

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Joshua Tree (Blogophilia 2.10)
A dry breeze rolled down from the hills and across the sands. Grit filled his nose and went under the eyelids. Finally, he slowly opened them. The rim of the valley had taken on the pink glow of sunrise. Stiff, he shucked out of his bag. At least he was upw...
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