It’s been too long since my last post on here. Lately, I’ve been in a bit of a rut with writing, and I haven’t had the desire to sit down and write some words for you all.

This story was my first round submission to NYC Midnight’s 100-word microfiction contest, in which I landed myself in the top 15 (4th place) out of my group. So, please enjoy the story below that has gotten me into the second round!

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Crucial documents require the finest writing tool for the President’s signature. Carefully crafted, dancing along the line, and oh no…he spelled his name wrong!

In his supply drawer, he tried to rectify his error so that no one would see and deem him callow. The paper was smothered in eraser shavings, but remained incorrect.

“Mr. President?” His assistant came into the room. “Oh sweet Jesus.”

Erasing and erasing, the spelling error remained.

“Mr. President, please!” Halting him before he burned a hole.

“But it’s spelled wrong!”

“Mr. President, it will not erase because you have signed your name in crayon…again.”

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