I am currently working on a short story collection for an upcoming book release. I’ve cobbled together some short stories already published on Literary Juice and elsewhere as well as some brand spanking new short stories to send chills up my reader’s spine.
However, one short story has really been tough to write, and I realized the other day once I had a breakthrough with it that the reason I couldn’t get it right was because it bored the life out of me.
It all began when I was 12 years old. I have a vivid memory of visiting a diorama display at a local mall where I saw a fantastic diorama of the inside of an Egyptian tomb. The scene was fascinating because within the tomb I saw a small model of an archaeologist rappelling down the wall from a hole he had knocked through and sitting on the…
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