Write Back Atcha

2021 is the year that I get back to writing. So, the first thing that I did this first day of the new year (after making a pot of coffee) was sit down and write. So, here are the first 200+ (rough draft) words of my new commitment to writing every day…

His name was Hickory Knox. His friends called him Hick. He didn’t have many friends. To most, he was simply known as that “miserable sonofabitch.” Hickory didn’t mind the unflattering moniker. Hell, it was rather accurate. He didn’t have much to be not miserable for, and from all accounts, he understood that his mother was not the most pleasant woman. Besides, he had been called worse and perhaps even deservingly so.

Hickory was an impressive man of physical stature, though not one that would be referred to as handsome. He stood about half a head taller than the average man and was solidly built with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. In spite of a large forehead with an apparent receding hairline, he had a thick mane of chestnut hair. He had a matching generous walrus mustache that enveloped his upper lip yet still managed not to hide a perpetual mild sneer. Having led the sort of life that he had, there was a thin scar along the left side of his thick jawline and a small portion of his upper left ear had been bitten off. When Hickory smiled, which wasn’t often, he would reveal that he was missing his left upper lateral incisor—the tooth having been knocked out in one of many countless brawls long ago.