“The news spread like wildfire, within minutes the police, armed to the teeth, made a last ditch attempt to comb the area for clues. They tried to leave no stone unturned but in the end, ground to a halt. The bottom line was the Chief had reached the ripe old age of 62 and despite his wealth of knowledge had allowed them to vanish into thin air. A blessing in disguise as it appeared to be the calm before the storm – they were hit with a hail of bullets. The situation remains confused and will forever be shrouded in mystery but at the end of the day it was not a level playing field. The station declines to comment.”
Words being a delicious place to start especially for a wannabe hack it made me muse over the crater-esque perils that I could inadvertently stutter into. After meandering around the blogosphere I realised the biggest and most grave pitfall offered to the consistent writer/blogger – The Cliché. I have chosen to champion the cliché, I have grabbed it, squeezed it tight and hopefully shown that although I desperately want to spend my life with newsprint on my fingers a little bit of humour and an ink blot of self ridicule has never hurt a fly (I simply cannot stop). So here it is…
…the story of an embracer. Not all that I am about but a spanking place to start.
Word play, playing with words; it makes me happy. Come play