I got an email earlier today from our benevolent dictator of an editor, asking for more copy on this blog to keep giving our readers fresh content. I’m not prepared to put up my next addition to my NaNoWriMo novel yet, but I do have something from my own blog that I’d like to share over here.
This was the first story I ever posted, and it was quickly buried in my backlog where no one ever read it. I always felt it deserved a wider audience. It may be fiction: I cannot say that this actually happened, but I suspect strongly it did. For a couple of summers I worked in a factory that cooked steel, and I heard this from a co-worker of mine who rarely spoke at great length, and never demonstrated having enough imagination to come up with this out of the blue.
Whatever truth there is to it, I’m sure I have embroidering the tale some, but that is the prerogative of a storyteller. It’s my story now, and I’ll tell it to you just as I would across a table, over a beer, in the back of my local watering hole.
This is the story of a party, a great party, and that party’s ending makes it one for the ages.