“The More I Made My Grave” (My Highland Heart excerpt) -BDF

24 May

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It appeared the more I made my grave, the more that I would win. My self-destruction brought rewards as partial wage of sin. When all you’ve got is a hammer, ‘course it’s only nails you see. In all the gifts I’d had in life that never came from me, failing upward wouldn’t salvage dignity…

…Not until I would relent. Not until I could have “me” removed from the equation. On my own will there was little hope of that. I expected I’d have to be further broken down, but, given what that had looked like numerous times before and my belligerent ignorance to its obviousness, what would it have to look like, coming current, to cause the required resolute shift? That curious cat would have to have his date with death.

Predictably, all chance of advancement slowed to a trickle, then to a full stop when the Writer’s Guild strike…

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