A beginning

Even in the dim light of the bar, one could tell she was beautiful. Her green eyes sparkled and provided a stark contrast to her auburn hair. That hair was of medium length, and it fell in soft curls along her face. The lips were a faint dusky rose, unadorned by lipstick.  Her straight nose was perfect for her face, sprinkled with a light dusting of freckles. If she wore makeup, it was so perfectly applied to be unnoticeable.

She was known among the bar regulars as the Red Baron. Not completely for the hue of her locks, but as much for the number of attempted suitors she had shot down.
---2008

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As I looked at the stars I saw the mighty hunter Orion, standing his winter sentinel.. His bow perpetually drawn across the Southern sky in a cold lonely vigil flanked by the brightness of Mars and Jupiter.
--2010

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I sat alone in the middle of the crowd.
--1987

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Phillip Mabry was a lonely man.
--1982

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Through the epochs of time cats have played an important role in history.
--1983 (from a short story called the cat Modeling School (a parody of the 1920's Berlin Modeling School movement)
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The silence of the pre-dawn morning was broken only by the occasional car or truck passing on the snow-slick two lane highway. A car slowed to a crawl as if closing in upon its prey. The rear end slid a little as the sedan skidded to a stop. The darkness was broken by the white flash of backup lights as the vehicle slowly backed up four dozen yards and turned into a narrow driveway. The sounds of a straining engine could be heard through the barely falling snow as the car lumbered through the mud and slush. The headlights bounced up and down and side to side in duplication of the rutted road. Snowflakes danced in the twin beams like chorus girls in the spotlight. Round and round the spun, climbing and falling to the ground in the wake of the slowly moving automobile.
--1992 (the whole first chapter was published here once, but I can not find it in the archives. Maybe I imagined it)  Edit:  here
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If, for some unimaginable reason you ever wanted to read more of my juvenile and unfinished scribblings you can find them in an old notebook, the cover yellowed by time, in my top dresser drawer under some stuff. I have not added to it in a while, this place gets my attention now. But one or two posts I thought were not too bad have been printed and thrown in the back to be discovered by history after I am dust. Worse, the first few pages of the notebook are filled with some god-awful poetry from the early 1980's.