Wagner's Writings

Happy Friday! This one's a bit of a longer one, but definitely one of my favorites so far. Enjoy!   “For the Other Shoe to Drop”  George had met a new achievement after finally hitting his twentieth year of working in the ol’ paper mill he called home since he was only nineteen-years old. Now he was staring down his forties, where he’ll be in the next twenty, and how retirement will look in the twenty years after set of twenty.  “If I make it,” he thought.  He would clock in on time, leave on time. Sometimes he’d stay late, mainly during the holidays, to make a little extra on top of what he was already making. He got along well enough with his coworkers. Kept to himself most of the time. Until you get to Mr. Miles, his boss.  George would think of Mr. Ned Miles as, well, a real cocksucker. He’d do the typical annoyances a person higher up than you would do. Crack the whip a little, do this, do that, hurry up. Y’know, boss man stuff. But that wasn’t what pushed George to the edge

BACK TO THE DOOM AND GLOOM BABY. Happy Friday!   “The King of Spite”  With thorns grown past the king’s reach, like bars on a cage, a prison cell of his own making, it cuts his hands with the slightest touch. Again and again, again and again. Blood for the thirsty soil of the land he lost long ago.  Tattered loyal clothes drapes his presence. A broken memento substitutes his crown. He steps from the throne to see where all of his subjects fled to. The King looks to the land he used to own and find no one’s there anymore. They all perished under the pressure of his stranglehold.  When he took power, they all cheered. Long live the King, just like the last, right down the lineage. Poison corrupted his mind with feelings of paranoia, distrust, and a thirst for blood. One by one the axe fell onto the heads of the distrusted. Soon there were no subjects. All that remained were the King and his Knights.  Seven knights roamed the castle just in the slight chance that there was still a sub

      I was looking over my blog stats and I've recently discovered that I hit over 1,000 views on my page?!?! That's amazing!!!      I started this thing in October 2020. My intentions with it were just to express myself through creative means instead of sad Facebook pity posts. I mean, I still do that time to time, but getting my thoughts out through words have definitely improved. I've posted inconsistently since then, but lately have stuck to a schedule with short fictions. Always stick with something manageable, I suppose.       Most of my views have come from the early ones, but that won't deter me from doing this still. I think I'll be doing this as long as the effort equals the reward of posting it.  I'd really like to get into video essays one of these days as an "enhancement" of these blog posts because I think I'd get better traction with something people can watch as opposed to sitting down to read. Just a pipe dream, thinking out loud

    You would've thought maybe since it's Friday the 13th today that this would be a spooky tale? Guess again, this one is actually pretty wholesome. This week was a fantastic week with the sun shining and all that good stuff. It really brought me to my happy place and I thought about if I was a father. What would I look forward to? The small moments of innocence and imagination running amok. Normally that title would've been ironic as hell, but this time, nope. Just a wholesome tale of a girl, her dad, and a bee. Enjoy!  The Prettiest Flower in the Field  Out in the backyard, the little one explores every shrub, bush, and every flower that could be the prime location for her castle. Or space station. Or underwater hideaway, I don’t recall on that specific day.  She took three laps around the whole yard when she sat down in front of a patch of dandelions. She made it a point to smell every single one, JUST to know which one was the absolute, ‘bestest’ best one. I retreated

         A truly terrific announcement I'm happy to say: My poetry chapbook. ISOLATIONIST, is now done. Writing is 100% done and I'll be moving onto the editing process. There will be 15 poems total. I had about 30 - 40 poems in all and cut it down to 15 that fit the theme of 'isolation,' which was harder than I thought until I wrote the very last one today. Then it all wrapped up beautifully, in my opinion.     N ow the hard part is over and I'll send the next couple of weeks editing it, polishing it until I think it's 100% ready for people to see and enjoy.      Damn was that a long process, but it was so enjoyable. Never has work felt so rewarding in all my years of slaving over something. Even if this isn't a huge splash, I'm really glad I did this. It reminds me of what I want to do for the rest of my life and just how much I enjoy writing, warts and all.      I really want to say thanks for everyone's that's been asking me for a copy, when

    Here's today's flash fiction. It seems everyone lately is having a hard time. I can relate. This is my attempt at a remedy, or in the very least some sunlight on a rain cloud that keeps pouring. Hope next week is a lot better!   “The Beauty of a Terrible Day” The beauty of a terrible day is that you’ll never have to face it again. Today's a new day that you yourself. May you allow yourself to rip it apart and make it yours. If the sun, the moon, and rain allows it, tomorrow could be the greatest day of your life. It may be worse than today. That’s the second beauty: its unpredictability. The only thing that’s certain is that the sun will set on a good, bad, and indifferent day.  The setting sun seems to take a particular pleasure in devouring a day here until it's gone forever. With it, you get a new one when you open your eyes from your sleep. Do with it as you will, as you wish.  The sun is setting now. I will go to sleep, open my eyes, and find a new gift in my l