Snippets

[_Lynn_]

From my junk folder . . .


Like a roach scrambling to hide from the sudden intrusion of light, she crawled under her bed. The old house shuddered and shook around her so hard she believed it would blow away. Bailey was positive she was going to die, trapped under a mountain of rubble, alone. Paralyzed with fear at that thought, she lost consciousness.

 

[oggbashan]

Le mouton de malheur viendra.

A last one to confuse you all.

From my stalled epic The Sheep of Doom, but in French:


Le jour où Annie devait être retiré de son chalet, elle sortit de son lit pour la première fois en plusieurs semaines, s'habilla et s'assit sur un banc devant la porte. Comme le propriétaire abordé avec ses huissiers, elle se leva et secoua son poing.

"Moutons sont tout ce que vous voulez," Elle a crié, "Moutons vous aurez. Moutons vous apportera d’argent. Vous et vos héritiers vous réponds ce que vous avez fait pour les gens de cette terre. Le mouton de malheur viendra. Que le destin vous ne pouvez pas échapper. "

Annie se balançait sur ses pieds.

"Le mouton de malheur viendra ..." Elle a dit avant de tomber mort à travers le seuil de sa maison.

 

[49greg]

This is from one I haven't yet named, and probably won't make the final cut without being changed, but here goes:

"I had never seen her in that before, and walked up to her as she held her arms out for me. I kissed her and dropped the towel. I felt the satin of her outfit rubbing against my erection and it felt good. Real good. She shimmied her hips around like she knew what it was doing to me."

 

[Saxon_Hart]

Sticking to the OP's guide lines here is a line that's going into one I am currently working on.

"Dude," I said to Sal. "If an eighth grade boy is stretching your wife out to a point you feel it...You have bigger problems, well so to speak, than being married to a pedophile."

 

[soflabbwlvr]

Sticking to the OP's guide lines here is a line that's going into one I am currently working on.

"Dude," I said to Sal. "If an eighth grade boy is stretching your wife out to a point you feel it...You have bigger problems, well so to speak, than being married to a pedophile."

That's brilliant, but you might have an issue there with the Lit. guidelines.

 

[slyc_willie]

From my junk folder . . .


Like a roach scrambling to hide from the sudden intrusion of light, she crawled under her bed. The old house shuddered and shook around her so hard she believed it would blow away. Bailey was positive she was going to die, trapped under a mountain of rubble, alone. Paralyzed with fear at that thought, she lost consciousness.

This makes me think of Bailey as some mousy woman with both physical and emotional scars who entertains some very interesting hallucinations.

 

[Hypoxia]

I just started what I *hope* will be the final BOOK OF RUTH episode. It begins thusly:

"Randy, get your ass over here. The judge won't marry us till you do."

I groggily nodded to Ruth and stumbled across the wide lawn toward her. I was still looped on painkillers. Nina and Deborah, the soon-to-be mothers-in-law, kept me from falling over. Security thugs kept their distance. The slugs!

The judge was dressed for golf. She peered uncertainly at me. "This young man is the groom? Is he sober enough?" She shrugged. "Oh well; not my problem."

The first day of summer, 1989, really sucked. I had been shot, interrogated, and betrayed. The next few days weren't much better, except that Ruth married me. I hoped that would be an improvement.

 

[slyc_willie]

I just started what I *hope* will be the final BOOK OF RUTH episode. It begins thusly:

"Randy, get your ass over here. The judge won't marry us till you do."

I groggily nodded to Ruth and stumbled across the wide lawn toward her. I was still looped on painkillers. Nina and Deborah, the soon-to-be mothers-in-law, kept me from falling over. Security thugs kept their distance. The slugs!

The judge was dressed for golf. She peered uncertainly at me. "This young man is the groom? Is he sober enough?" She shrugged. "Oh well; not my problem."

The first day of summer, 1989, really sucked. I had been shot, interrogated, and betrayed. The next few days weren't much better, except that Ruth married me. I hoped that would be an improvement.

They're obviously off to a great start.

 

[_Lynn_]

This makes me think of Bailey as some mousy woman with both physical and emotional scars who entertains some very interesting hallucinations.

I wrote it a few years ago. There's maybe four or five paragraphs total. Each time I look at it, I come up blank, and close the page again.

 

[Handley_Page]

Sticking to the OP's guide lines here is a line that's going into one I am currently working on.

"Dude," I said to Sal. "If an eighth grade boy is stretching your wife out to a point you feel it...You have bigger problems, well so to speak, than being married to a paedophile."

I look forward to reading that one!
PS. Please indicate an age in years. We don't have grades like that over here.

 

[sheablue]

Here is another bit from a story in my "Current Work" folder. This is from what was intended to be my FAWC 2 story. But it wanted to be longer than I had time for, so now it sits and waits ...



The fat sweaty trucker held out his hands in a gesture of surrender. His greasy combover had flopped into his eyes and he struggled for breath. Ruby raised one booted foot menacingly. “Right now, you piece of shit or I will fucking kill you.”

The trucker fumbled in his front pants pocket, the very same pocket he had only moments before lecherously suggested Ruby herself explore.

“Give it to me!” She shrieked so hard her throat hurt.

The trucker finally managed to extract what he was looking for and threw it at her. The pill bottle bounced off her chest and fell to the the floor of the cab. She fumbled for it while still keeping her boot near his face, and it wasn’t until her hand closed around it’s familiar shape that she started to calm down. She straightened up and tried not to groan out loud. The fire in her shoulder blades was almost unbearable, but she couldn’t take any pills until she knew when and where she could get more. In hindsight, accepting the fat trucker’s proffered whiskey maybe looked more like an invitation to him than she had intended.

“You are a fat fuck!” She yelled at him. He just wheezed and stared at her numbly.

 

[PennLady]

Another from one I started a long time ago but haven't been able to go back and finish.

-------

The hum ceased. The vibrations halted. There was a silence like sound had been sucked out of existence. Mara waited tensely.

A keening sound louder than anything she'd ever heard shattered the silence and she screamed as she uselessly covered her ears. Her scream was devoured by the shriek that rent the night. Before she passed out, Mara knew what the something was.

The Warboys were coming.

 

[Saxon_Hart]

I look forward to reading that one!
PS. Please indicate an age in years. We don't have grades like that over here.

HP, an 8th grade student is approximately 13 or 14 years old.

 

[soflabbwlvr]

Here are the opening paragraphs to a story I started over a year ago. This one will be a romance, which is not my specialty.

Morris Stanton looked up from his firm’s latest quarterly report. The one point five percent increase in sales over the previous quarter was not spectacular, but the fact that it represented the thirty-seventh consecutive quarterly increase was unprecedented. It was even more impressive when juxtaposed against the market conditions: fourteen quarters of recession followed by seven quarters of stagnation. He was succeeding, while the rest of the country foundered. He should have been jubilant.

He wasn’t. Morris Stanton was angry.

Despite the increased sales, the report also revealed that–for the first time in seventeen years–his firm lost market share. Morris Stanton was not pleased by this news. The longer he stared at the page, the more furious he became.

 

[AMoveableBeast]

His mother bought him the galaxy for his sixth birthday.

It came in a bag, heavy and rattling with the mass of a thousand tiny glow-in-the-dark stars. It had taken months, a little every night, but, with the help of a guide on the computer, they placed them in the proper spots. All of the heavens secured to the wall by the cosmic force of two-sided adhesive tape, replaced and rehung after each comet that crashed to the tan-colored, carpeted earth.

His mom had told him about gas giants and dwarf stars, given him books on what the moon was really made of, and why cheese, while delicious, was not a good thing to make a moon out of.

More, she had taught him the names of the secret shapes and animals that inhabited the stars, defenders that would protect him if he were scared, or friends to talk to if he were lonely at night.

As a result, the night sky greeted Lucas as he entered his room. Orion, the hunter, peered with him as he looked out his window into the backyard. Leo, the lion, roared in disapproval at the dark, lightless windows of Lucas’s father’s garage. The dragon, Draco, stood silently with him as he stared for the better part of a half an hour. Ursa Major, the great bear, folded its arms around him when he finally crawled into bed, his space shuttle themed covers pulled tight to his chin. And the river, Eridanus, flowed with his tears when he cried himself to sleep.

 

[Hypoxia]

His mother bought him the galaxy for his sixth birthday.

It came in a bag, heavy and rattling with the mass of a thousand tiny glow-in-the-dark stars. It had taken months, a little every night, but, with the help of a guide on the computer, they placed them in the proper spots. All of the heavens secured to the wall by the cosmic force of two-sided adhesive tape, replaced and rehung after each comet that crashed to the tan-colored, carpeted earth.

His mom had told him about gas giants and dwarf stars, given and gave him books on what the moon was really made of, and why cheese, while delicious, was not a good thing to make a moon out of.

More, she had taught him the names of the secret shapes and animals that inhabited the stars, defenders that would protect him if he were scared, or friends to talk to if he were lonely at night.

As a result, the night sky greeted Lucas as he entered his room. Orion, the hunter, peered with him as he looked out his window into the backyard. Leo, the lion, roared in disapproval at the dark, lightless windows of Lucas’s father’s garage. The dragon, Draco, stood silently with him as he stared for the better part of a half an hour. Ursa Major, the great bear, folded its arms around him when he finally crawled into bed, his space shuttle themed covers pulled tight to his chin. And the river, Eridanus, flowed with his tears when he cried himself to sleep.

Wow! Very evocative. I would make the slight tense changes I marked above -- delete the red, add the bold, and then the passage is just fucking perfect IMHO.

 

[AMoveableBeast]

Wow! Very evocative. I would make the slight tense changes I marked above -- delete the red, add the bold, and then the passage is just fucking perfect IMHO.

Thanks for the help.

The passage is from a wildly uneven novella I've been working on for some time. It has parts that are of real quality and others that are little more than word soup. I hope I can iron it down some day.

 

[jomar]

.....

 

[49greg]

“Who the fuck are you?”

I had woken up in what I knew to be my deathbed to find myself surrounded by attractive young ladies wearing bronze armour and carrying spears.

“Fuck?” one of them asked. “We don’t normally do that. An interesting idea”.

“Who are you? Why…?”

“I should have thought that was obvious, Eric. We are the Valkyries. We have come to take you to Valhalla to join the other heroes.”

Was I delirious? Me, a hero destined for Valhalla? These women must be a sick joke by some of my family.

“No, Eric, we’re not a joke. We are the real Valkyries. Can human women do this?”

Suddenly all of them were mounted on war horses. How? There was no room around my bed for a single horse, let alone a large number.

“OK, OK. I believe you. You are the Valkyries. But why me? I’m not a hero.”

“You are Eric Smith?”

I nodded.

“You fought in the Second World War?”

I nodded again.

“You won the Victoria Cross, Britain’s premier award for bravery?”

“No. I didn’t. The Victoria Cross was won by another Eric Smith. He was a distant relation. His award was posthumous so you must have taken him decades ago.”

“Shit! Loki must be playing games again. He mucks up Valhalla’s record keeping whenever he can. Let’s see if we can sort it out. You were in World War 2?”

...

Hilarious! I love it.

 

[slyc_willie]

Another from one I started a long time ago but haven't been able to go back and finish.

-------

The hum ceased. The vibrations halted. There was a silence like sound had been sucked out of existence. Mara waited tensely.

A keening sound louder than anything she'd ever heard shattered the silence and she screamed as she uselessly covered her ears. Her scream was devoured by the shriek that rent the night. Before she passed out, Mara knew what the something was.

The Warboys were coming.

I'm liking this one, but then I'm always a sucker for anything that even remotely sounds sci-fi.

 

[slyc_willie]

From something I started last night

Nick stepped to the corner of the bed, looking down upon the nude woman. He realized she had been quite attractive in life. Slender, fit, a young brunette with blonde highlights in her early or mid twenties. Even in death, firm round breasts pointed to the ceiling. Her eyes and mouth were both open, as if searching for that last memory and to suck one last breath of life from the air.

 

[patientlee]

Nick stepped to the corner of the bed, looking down upon the nude woman. He realized she had been quite attractive in life. Slender, fit, a young brunette with blonde highlights in her early or mid twenties. Even in death, firm round breasts pointed to the ceiling. Her eyes and mouth were both open, as if searching for that last memory and to suck one last breath of life from the air.

I'd read it.

 

[slyc_willie]

I'd read it.

Gonna have to wait a while.

 

[patientlee]

Gonna have to wait a while.

Good. I don't have time now. Three more weeks. Three more weeks.

 

[slyc_willie]

Good. I don't have time now. Three more weeks. Three more weeks.

So, you're saying this is a good time to start FAWC 5, then.