where the writers are

Fawn Neun's Writings

Short Story
     She had decided not to waste another minute.  The minutes here on the other side of the second half of life seemed to all cram together into a blur and you had to take each one and hold onto it dearly to make it count.  She didn’t have to ascribe meaning to each moment depending on where it led – what happened next didn’t matter any longer.  She would...