Mar. 7th, 2009

Memeage

Mar. 7th, 2009 12:40 pm
vr_trakowski: (Edward the Booble)
Seen this around a few places, so why not.

Post a single sentence from each WIP you have (or as many as you want to pick). No context, no explanations, no more than one sentence. I'm not going to do ALL mine, certainly.  Though it'd be interesting to do a look at the graveyard, so to speak. 

I did alter a couple slightly to remove names. 

“The Queen of Spices,” he breathed, holding her gaze; “I surrender.”

She paused at a light, waiting to  cross the street, and on impulse extended her senses, feeling around her in the odd fashion she had possessed since childhood.

She watched, still bemused by the family her brother had managed to create, or gather, or just fall into--she wasn’t sure which.

He wondered just when French fries had gone out of style, and why.

 “It was the oddest thing; you should have seen everyone’s faces when the knock on the door turned out to be a troll."

But the vision was a tempting one; feeling him slide into the leaves behind her and press up against her back, his warmth soaking into her spine and his arm sliding over her hip. 

Her throat seemed to be swollen shut, damming all her words in her chest, so she threw her arms around him, desperate.

He’d passed fifty without a qualm; it had hardly been a blip on his radar, as no one was left to send him a card and his colleagues all knew better than to throw him a party. 

Memeage

Mar. 7th, 2009 12:40 pm
vr_trakowski: (Edward the Booble)
Seen this around a few places, so why not.

Post a single sentence from each WIP you have (or as many as you want to pick). No context, no explanations, no more than one sentence. I'm not going to do ALL mine, certainly.  Though it'd be interesting to do a look at the graveyard, so to speak. 

I did alter a couple slightly to remove names. 

“The Queen of Spices,” he breathed, holding her gaze; “I surrender.”

She paused at a light, waiting to  cross the street, and on impulse extended her senses, feeling around her in the odd fashion she had possessed since childhood.

She watched, still bemused by the family her brother had managed to create, or gather, or just fall into--she wasn’t sure which.

He wondered just when French fries had gone out of style, and why.

 “It was the oddest thing; you should have seen everyone’s faces when the knock on the door turned out to be a troll."

But the vision was a tempting one; feeling him slide into the leaves behind her and press up against her back, his warmth soaking into her spine and his arm sliding over her hip. 

Her throat seemed to be swollen shut, damming all her words in her chest, so she threw her arms around him, desperate.

He’d passed fifty without a qualm; it had hardly been a blip on his radar, as no one was left to send him a card and his colleagues all knew better than to throw him a party. 

May 2025

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