I never quite managed to get started today, and haven't written a single word that wasn't part of an e-mail or something stupid on Twitter. Dammit.
So, in an effort to continue my daily-blog-o-phonic creative output, a very very short story:
The wind came down the canyon and blew ice and snow into Colin's face. He brushed it off his goggles, but had given up keeping it out of his beard days ago.
He looked up, but the summit was obscured by clouds. Still, he knew it was there, even if he could not see it, and so he continued to climb.
Well, it's more of a scene, (a very very short one, at that) but it's more than I've been able to muster all day, so … that's something.
See you tomorrow, Internets.