Unusual and Creative Enterprises

Brown Paper Bag Words









Arts, anything involving pictures, words and / or sculpture.
Artisans, those artist, scientist, engineer combination people who make things that book learning  alone  can only copy.
Crafts, mostly made by hand for fun and profit
Interesting processes, inventions and ideas
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For your amusement, enjoyment and possible education.
Remember, All writing is fiction until you can prove it true through your own eyes, ears and experience.

We think that this is true of all words, written spoken and especially implied.
So read just for fun unless you are going to check it out yourself.

A lot of these people: writers, artists, flashartists and whatever other adopted labels say that they are available for hire.
Just click on the associated e-mail link if you want any of them.

Oh yeah, we'll admit it in advance - we are not above using this part of the site as PR for the rest of the site ...
The Good Stuff is here, but you will have to look for it.

In fact, here is our most blatant PR permanently posted on our first page ... the newest installment of:


The U + C Shamelessly Commercially (and not) Crosslinked,
Never Meant to End, Serious and Sometimes Not Novel.

He saw her out of the corner of his eye. There was no way to miss her. She had taken what God gave her and maxed it out. Looking at her was an involuntary action.

Ken had a feeling that he was in trouble when she headed his way. She didn't call or wave, she just kept walking toward him, her eyes locked on him. He wondered if there was something funny about his clothes that he had missed or if there was something on his face like food or ink or some other stain.He wished that he had a mirror.

But the look on her face was not mocking. It was resolute. She was on a mission. He would have to wait to find out what it was.

She stopped an arms length away from him. There was no offer to shake hands. She knew why he couldn't take his eyes from her but she showed no signs of flaunting herself or toying with him. The wind blew her hair across her eyes, but she did not flinch or try to stop it.

"You are Ken," she said. "You have to come with me.

She was wearing jewelery, but she didn't need to, she would have looked fine without it. She was not poster material, but she did have the kind of body and presence that made people want to be around her. Ken froze, terminally shy, some would say insecure. Either way, he was temporarily speechless.

"It's not a request," she said.

Her voice was smooth, unhurried, unafraid.

"Am I in trouble?" Ken asked.

"No," she said, "Just come with me."

Ken was now sure that he was in some kind of trouble.The only question was wether it was legal, business or social.

She reached out and grasped his wrist. "Now," She said and started walking.

She was stronger than she looked, but Ken would not have been able to resist anyway."You can let go," he said, " I won't run away."

She let go, but said nothing. They both kept walking. Ken had no trouble keeping up, but he realized from her stride that she was letting him keep up.

"What's this about?" Ken asked, finally.

"You should have asked that before we started walking." She said. "Why didn't you?" She had been looking straight ahead while they walked and she continued looking forward as she spoke.

Ken thought for too long before answering. "This whole thing has kind of surprised me," he said.

"That's your excuse?" She used the question as an accusation.

Ken realized that she was intentionally not answering his question. Her attitude was helping him overcome her allure. "Yeah," he said. "So where ARE we going? What IS going on here?"

For the first time since they had started walking, she looked in his direction. She smiled, and stepped over a hole in the sidewalk with out looking down."Maybe this WILL work." she said.

And they kept walking.



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