Short stories in a corner of the web

 Hi there! Well, I figured I should give a general update apart from the quick writing sprints. There's a convention that just became known to me called DVCon . So far it's been invaluable to me as a marginalized person. I never really knew the general ins and outs of publishing. It's not like there's a clear and noted path for these things, especially for the marginalized.  The online panels have been lovely so far, and the Discord that's along with it? Really really helpful. I honestly hope that there's a virtual component of this going forward; it's really nice to just connect with other writers from all over in this fashion.  Well, I'd hope that in person would be soon enough. However, to coin a phrase or in this case an action? *gestures vaguely everywhere* (make sure to check out that link! And if you mess about in the Twitter hashtags, you should be able to find some more info there as well)

(a prompt I thought of. The theme? Job interviews. I may be projecting with my lack of luck, but writing about it feels somewhat cathartic.) What a busy day, thought Ellen. The office waiting room was filled with people for a position being offered at Riposte Forging. She found it odd that a company that specialized in creating steel weapons would draw so many interested parties. But, she was the receptionist, she reasoned. There should be no vested interest in the whys and the wherefores, as long as her paycheck hit the same time every other week.  She shrugged, accepting it as something that isn't a worry. Time for the next applicant. "Daniel? Daniel Mi-oh dear..Mi-ehhhh..."   A tall gentleman dressed in a dark blue suit raised his hand tentatively. He brushed away the stray strands of his midnight blue hair and smiled almost apologetically to the woman.  Ellen peered over her bifocals at the young man. "Are you Daniel?" He smiled in response, his smile almost...

  Another WritePrompt! (it took a bit. Why? Well, look around. The world is wild. lol) Reverend Trevor sat quietly at the bar, slowly sipping his old fashioned. His surroundings at the local bar were a bit livelier than he recalled, but it didn't bother him too much. The din helped to distract him from the absolutely rotten day he had at the Church.  Getting chewed out by the Bishop, flubbing his lines during altar call...it was a lot. That and he almost messed up that exorcism? No wonder he needed a drink, he groused. It was his fervent hope that the booze would soothe his bruised ego and lull his mind into a languid stupor. Emptying his tumbler, he sat it on the bar with a soft thud. A woman wearing a crop top rested her elbow on the bar, leaning near the Reverend. "Want another one, Padre?" He nodded in response, but followed up with a short phrase. "Just call me Trevor. Not a Padre of any stripe right now." A voice rang out from a few feet behind him.  ...