Having recently retired and with time on his hands, Clark decided to fulfill his life’s greatest ambition. With a head full of ideas, interesting and compelling characters, and intricate, twisty plot lines, he would write the great American novel.
Clark was old school. It wasn’t that he was a technophobe. He just liked the feel of using a manual typewriter. So he put aside his laptop and took out his old, antique Underwood, slipped a piece of paper on the roller, and started pounding away on the keyboard.
Before he finished the fourth page, though, Clark stopped typing. “Damn arthritis.”
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Jeff Arnold.