- Joined
- Sep 7, 2009
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Ken:
Thanks, Doc.
*Spoiler Alert*
*********************************
She's not dead!
Ken:
Thanks, Doc.
*Spoiler Alert*
*********************************
She's not dead!
She looked at him and smiled. “I’m glad I’m alive too.
There is this one thing though.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re going to have to attend my funeral.”
Just a quick time out to say how much I love this thread. Not only to see other people's wonderful lines, but it's such a challenge. I was looking through my ms yesterday, wondering if I had anything to post, and I didn't. The writing simply isn't tight enough right now. Challenge: write better.
So thanks, everyone.
Kelli was a little surprised as she flipped through the New York Post for what must have been the fiftieth time. The story was buried on page three and covered only the basic details of her shooting. She read over it again, noting that the reporter had managed to misspell her first name, using a “y” instead of an “i”. Not an uncommon mistake, she thought. On the flipside, her obituary had read more like a novel.
Faith stood up pulling Cloud along with her. She clasped Cloud’s hand with both of hers pulling her face close. “Then I leave him in your hands. Do not break him while I’m gone.” Faith’s turquoise eyes streaked with red as a warning.
In enhanced contrast the simplest of sights have an exaggerated beauty of their own. The runnels of rainwater attacking the windowpane in Sel's office were shining filaments of light cutting through the ink black outside world, branching and merging as they slid to the bottom. James could have sat there for hours watching them soak up his anger, and ordinarily he might have let them. Right now he wasn't sure he wanted to.
Even five years after my wife’s death, I still did not understand her last request to me, until, one morning in 1925, I read an article in the Lidové Noviny about a house that was apparently cursed.
"Nice shot, too, the two of you on his yacht. I almost didn't recognize you with clothes on."
Ah, the bikini picture. He had it at work. Classy, Simon. That got filed away for future retribution.
The intercom crackled out of time with the rumbling thunder overhead, creating a distorted syncopation that reduced speech to monotone and breath to white noise buzzing.
Frank wished he’d never mentioned the cemetery across the road from Guardian Labs. If he’d kept his mouth shut he wouldn’t have been dragging a toothless and fingerless corpse through storm-rain and mud toward someone else’s grave.
ROFL.Frank wished he’d never mentioned the cemetery across the road from Guardian Labs. If he’d kept his mouth shut he wouldn’t have been dragging a toothless and fingerless corpse through storm-rain and mud toward someone else’s grave.
ROFL.
He's living proof staff cuts don't always affect productivity.
-cb