<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571516150460663822</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 06 Nov 2024 02:53:35 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Stories Told In Short</title><description>Whatever comes off the keyboard</description><link>http://storiestoldinshort.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Ron)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571516150460663822.post-9074232499576876878</guid><pubDate>Fri, 19 Sep 2008 11:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-09-19T07:44:57.182-04:00</atom:updated><title>Never take the redeye into D.C.</title><atom:summary type="text">Finally the plane touched down and all Ralph wanted was a hot shower and a fresh pillow. His weekend trip to Vegas taught him two things; never eat Nevada shrimp and the house always wins. Some old friends beckoned him to spend three days looking for the big score, and rehashing youthful adventures. So, Ralph, recently divorced, with midlife crises in full surrender, needed excitement rather than</atom:summary><link>http://storiestoldinshort.blogspot.com/2008/09/never-take-redeye-into-dc.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ron)</author><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571516150460663822.post-6302981103976011692</guid><pubDate>Mon, 26 May 2008 23:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-06-15T21:32:18.227-04:00</atom:updated><title>The Bigsby Letters</title><atom:summary type="text">July 4th 2276A father motioned to his young son as he pulled into the driveway.“Hi Dad,” Hamilton said while his father slipped out from behind the wheel.The dad touched Hamilton’s blond hair and then pulled him close. The two stood in the driveway. Dust from the nearby potash plant eased in front of the setting sun causing a pink hue to settle over the neighborhood. This summer evening will be </atom:summary><link>http://storiestoldinshort.blogspot.com/2008/05/bigsby-letters_26.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ron)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571516150460663822.post-5077153096843316577</guid><pubDate>Thu, 15 May 2008 19:35:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-05-24T23:00:40.156-04:00</atom:updated><title>A Short Story?</title><atom:summary type="text">I&#39;m not really sure what a short story is, besides the obvious. (A story, probably  fiction, shorter than a  novel)The purpose for this blog is to hone my writing skills.You won&#39;t find &quot;classic works of literature&quot; here. English Majors click away now, I&#39;m not interested in your rules.I self-edit and have no idea what I&#39;m doing. I write because it&#39;s a hobby. The good, bad, and especially the ugly </atom:summary><link>http://storiestoldinshort.blogspot.com/2008/05/short-story.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ron)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>