Post some of your favorite paragraphs/tidbits from your works.
Here are a few of mine.
What if he thinks I'm dead? Maybe he would be better off if he did so he wouldn't have to know the painful truth of my
capture. My mind continues to wander. And if he's dead? Six feet under, full military honors, a war hero's funeral. At least
his death would be properly honored. When mine comes, they will scoop my emaciated body up off of the mirrored floors
and cast it into fire.
MUCH LATEER
They constantly drill away at my mind, trying to break down the walls of psychological programming the training has blessed me with. It's not
what they do to my body, it's what they make me see. I've had Gabriel bleed to death in my arms until it's lost it's meaning. Now, each time it
happens, I just ruffle his short hair with his head in my lap until his boots stop rocking against the floor. I know it isn't real, but the simulated
warmth of his body is... is comforting:A subconscious defense against the darkness. At other times, the Andoarrans have prepared enough to
mobilize troops into parts of Canada and Russia, committing the most ancient of sins in the newest ways. If it isn't losing Gabriel for a second
time, or failing to stop Andoarra I see the ensemble of people who have welcomed me to my new home be put down like a pack of rabid wolves.
At this moment, it's the most terrifying thing they can show me. I'm left alone in my cell when after they're done. Whenever I go to the backs of
my eyelids for comfort, I only see the lead passing through their bodies. You'd think I would have already gone insane, that I should be attacking
my own reflection, sinking deeper into psychological oblivion. But withing these four walls, I feel comfort. I feel home, knowing that half the
nightmare is over.. for now.
Feelings of ... I don't want to say “lust”, because that would imply that I only want to act on these feelings for the benefit
of myself. But these … urges to grace the back of her neck, massage the soft backs of her knees, kiss the underside of
her jaw and drown in her warmth rise up. Right as I'm about to slide my hand underneath her neck and plant a kiss on her
cheek, only one thing stops me. Her breeding tattoo. I can imagine Crassius Andoarra himself, invading our privacy
through the black ink like a window. So I roll over, deflecting his gaze with my back, because I am a coward.
“You just stabbed me... with a drewscriver? You better have stuck me in something vital. If not I'm gonna will tear off
your limbs off, starting at the shortest!” I can tell he's trying so hard to not lose his dexterity and slip into shock. But a
fresh stab wound is not all that easy to shake off.
Interested to see your results!
Here are a few of mine.
What if he thinks I'm dead? Maybe he would be better off if he did so he wouldn't have to know the painful truth of my
capture. My mind continues to wander. And if he's dead? Six feet under, full military honors, a war hero's funeral. At least
his death would be properly honored. When mine comes, they will scoop my emaciated body up off of the mirrored floors
and cast it into fire.
MUCH LATEER
They constantly drill away at my mind, trying to break down the walls of psychological programming the training has blessed me with. It's not
what they do to my body, it's what they make me see. I've had Gabriel bleed to death in my arms until it's lost it's meaning. Now, each time it
happens, I just ruffle his short hair with his head in my lap until his boots stop rocking against the floor. I know it isn't real, but the simulated
warmth of his body is... is comforting:A subconscious defense against the darkness. At other times, the Andoarrans have prepared enough to
mobilize troops into parts of Canada and Russia, committing the most ancient of sins in the newest ways. If it isn't losing Gabriel for a second
time, or failing to stop Andoarra I see the ensemble of people who have welcomed me to my new home be put down like a pack of rabid wolves.
At this moment, it's the most terrifying thing they can show me. I'm left alone in my cell when after they're done. Whenever I go to the backs of
my eyelids for comfort, I only see the lead passing through their bodies. You'd think I would have already gone insane, that I should be attacking
my own reflection, sinking deeper into psychological oblivion. But withing these four walls, I feel comfort. I feel home, knowing that half the
nightmare is over.. for now.
Feelings of ... I don't want to say “lust”, because that would imply that I only want to act on these feelings for the benefit
of myself. But these … urges to grace the back of her neck, massage the soft backs of her knees, kiss the underside of
her jaw and drown in her warmth rise up. Right as I'm about to slide my hand underneath her neck and plant a kiss on her
cheek, only one thing stops me. Her breeding tattoo. I can imagine Crassius Andoarra himself, invading our privacy
through the black ink like a window. So I roll over, deflecting his gaze with my back, because I am a coward.
“You just stabbed me... with a drewscriver? You better have stuck me in something vital. If not I'm gonna will tear off
your limbs off, starting at the shortest!” I can tell he's trying so hard to not lose his dexterity and slip into shock. But a
fresh stab wound is not all that easy to shake off.
Interested to see your results!
