In a final bout of revenge, my body shut down completely last night. At the tail end of a brutal year, my body decided it need to go straight to hell. I’ve been tossing and turning with a bloated stomach, extreme fatigue and ultimately, a feeling like I’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, and all he did was work the body. I slept from six last night until past noon today, my body alternating between a cold it could not get rid of, even with a heating blanket, to a fever that didn’t go away.

I intended today’s post to be about my search for a little kindness in the world; instead, The Mungk beat the shit out of me.

Such is the fickle nature of life. Every time you wish to step forward, it drags you back.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1865 words, hip little story: Forest Edge