Chapin City Blues

Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

For a moment there, the feeling of being back in college hits me. Books lie strewn upon my bed, each opened to a different chapter but roughly offer me the same ideas. A composition book rests open besides my journal; notes scrawled upon their pages that extend past the margins. Several tabs are opened on …

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I don’t pretend to know what the hell I’m doing. I just roll with it. And if the dice comes up to my advantage, so be it. If it doesn’t—I’ll find myself running, leaping, and softly grazing a Dragonborn’s derrière. The swarm of wasps surround us, and my failed leap onto his back causes him to …

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