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Favorite lines you've written
- Thread starter Charlie Horse
- Start date
Wannabe-Bohemian housewives chain-smoking and daydreaming in the sweat-stained, soap opera silence.
(I would give the context for this, but I like it better as a stand-alone).
(I would give the context for this, but I like it better as a stand-alone).
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I like. It reminds me of descriptive prose in Arnold Schwarzenegger's book Pumping Iron.
I like this. It feels like a line that almost begs for a story to be written just to include it.
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Here's two passages from my WIP, that I'm fond of.
Ghost is a robot. Keeper is a wizard.
1.
*****
As soon as they came in, Ghost approached Keeper of the Umbrellas, cornering her between the table and two chairs.
“No more running away! Let me see.”
Keeper sighed, but allowed Ghost to inspect her artificial eye.
“Now move it slowly from left to right… And back… Now do an orbital motion. Okay, faster…”
Keeper obliged. There was no escape, really.
“The movements are fine,” murmured Ghost, her face now almost touching Keeper’s. “Don’t blink, I need to run some tests.”
She brought her index finger towards Keeper’s face. Several thin wires extended from it and connected to the artificial eye, which was immediately filled with a red glow, making Keeper look uncharacteristically sinister. Fiamma snickered.
“Ghost, the eye is perfect,” said Keeper, rolling her other, living eye, “and it was already perfect the last time you assaulted me. Not everything in life must be a scientific experiment.”
“Does not compute. Life is a scientific experiment.”
She detached the wires and took a step back, observing Keeper’s face critically.
“Also, I wouldn’t have to ‘assault’ you, if you just got on with the test program.”
“You wanted me to spend half an hour every day on it,” said Keeper, blinking experimentally, “You know I’m a busy person.”
“Could you test it on weekends at least?”
“Would you stop ambushing me if I did it on weekends?”
“I’ll make no such promises. By the way, I’ll have to replace the lens and some of the electronics.”
Keeper sighed again.
“I felt no difference whatsoever after the last time you replaced things.”
“I’m improving the eye performance under edge conditions. You’ll thank me when you have to use a sniper rifle in the fog.”
“Since when am I using firearms!?”
2.
*****
“Something is not right,” said Keeper, rising from the couch.
She went to Ghost and extended a hand above the cake. Several small objects shot out of it and hung in the air. Among them was a measuring spoon, a couple of integrated circuits and a syringe, complete with a needle.
“How did you get all of these in there?” asked Keeper.
“I have no idea,” said Ghost, looking extremely surprised.
Fiamma chuckled. “I think I’ll pass on that one.”
“No, I believe the cake is fine now,” said Keeper, lowering the foreign objects to the table. “Do cut me a piece, Ghost. Just don’t leave the knife inside.”
The cake turned out to be delicious, although Kio chewed every piece with extreme care, half expecting to encounter a razor or a shard of glass. He wondered whether Ghost did this on purpose. It was not like her to miss small details. Then again, Ghost was weird.
Ghost is a robot. Keeper is a wizard.
1.
*****
As soon as they came in, Ghost approached Keeper of the Umbrellas, cornering her between the table and two chairs.
“No more running away! Let me see.”
Keeper sighed, but allowed Ghost to inspect her artificial eye.
“Now move it slowly from left to right… And back… Now do an orbital motion. Okay, faster…”
Keeper obliged. There was no escape, really.
“The movements are fine,” murmured Ghost, her face now almost touching Keeper’s. “Don’t blink, I need to run some tests.”
She brought her index finger towards Keeper’s face. Several thin wires extended from it and connected to the artificial eye, which was immediately filled with a red glow, making Keeper look uncharacteristically sinister. Fiamma snickered.
“Ghost, the eye is perfect,” said Keeper, rolling her other, living eye, “and it was already perfect the last time you assaulted me. Not everything in life must be a scientific experiment.”
“Does not compute. Life is a scientific experiment.”
She detached the wires and took a step back, observing Keeper’s face critically.
“Also, I wouldn’t have to ‘assault’ you, if you just got on with the test program.”
“You wanted me to spend half an hour every day on it,” said Keeper, blinking experimentally, “You know I’m a busy person.”
“Could you test it on weekends at least?”
“Would you stop ambushing me if I did it on weekends?”
“I’ll make no such promises. By the way, I’ll have to replace the lens and some of the electronics.”
Keeper sighed again.
“I felt no difference whatsoever after the last time you replaced things.”
“I’m improving the eye performance under edge conditions. You’ll thank me when you have to use a sniper rifle in the fog.”
“Since when am I using firearms!?”
2.
*****
“Something is not right,” said Keeper, rising from the couch.
She went to Ghost and extended a hand above the cake. Several small objects shot out of it and hung in the air. Among them was a measuring spoon, a couple of integrated circuits and a syringe, complete with a needle.
“How did you get all of these in there?” asked Keeper.
“I have no idea,” said Ghost, looking extremely surprised.
Fiamma chuckled. “I think I’ll pass on that one.”
“No, I believe the cake is fine now,” said Keeper, lowering the foreign objects to the table. “Do cut me a piece, Ghost. Just don’t leave the knife inside.”
The cake turned out to be delicious, although Kio chewed every piece with extreme care, half expecting to encounter a razor or a shard of glass. He wondered whether Ghost did this on purpose. It was not like her to miss small details. Then again, Ghost was weird.
I turned around. "Can I ask you something?"
She looked like a rabbit being asked if it wanted to come to the fox's house for dinner.
She looked like a rabbit being asked if it wanted to come to the fox's house for dinner.
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A sweaty hooker with a Twinkie-built butt bopped around the slot where I was parked in front of Calle Ocho Una Cantina and hung her corset in my window. I could have gotten drunk on her rum drum breath.
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His sister's ghost tickled his mind finally with a vision of her dancing around the dinner table in happier times, before the drugs started stealing her away.
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Love.
I have a similar one in my second WIP: The ghost of the bride danced around them. And in another WIP: He could feel the ghosts dancing around him.
A thick book, hand-bound in ancient leather, waited patiently upon her bedside cabinet. January scowled at it. She’d experimented with trying to get rid of it — once in Gran’s rubbish bin, once in the barley fields, and once in the heart of a bonfire.
It always came back. Always. Like an immortal homing pigeon, but with pages, instead of wings.
“The Practikal Wytch” was January’s sworn nemesis.
It always came back. Always. Like an immortal homing pigeon, but with pages, instead of wings.
“The Practikal Wytch” was January’s sworn nemesis.
(I just started the day's writing, but I'm pretty sure nothing I write in the next few hours is gonna top this)
He was quite surprised when a woman fell on his head.
He was quite surprised when a woman fell on his head.
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- Joined
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“¡¿Quién carajo crees que eres!?”
“Who the freak do you think you are?”
“No one plops their nalgas down at my table sin invita.“
“What’s the matter, Niki? Am I sitting on your culo?”
“¡Batirlo, gringo!”
“Do I look like a gringo?”
“Si.”
“Half of me is. The other’s chink, but my money’s yankee green, same yours, spic.”
“Who the freak do you think you are?”
“No one plops their nalgas down at my table sin invita.“
“What’s the matter, Niki? Am I sitting on your culo?”
“¡Batirlo, gringo!”
“Do I look like a gringo?”
“Si.”
“Half of me is. The other’s chink, but my money’s yankee green, same yours, spic.”
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FrauleinCiano
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Tiggs - Ha! Love the immortal homing pigeon line!
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[FONT="]Sidone could feel Paolo’s eyes upon her the entire trip home from mass. Though the car had been covered in fall’s early night, each time the vehicle passed under another street lamp, his eyes would illuminate in the rear view mirror, like a wolf’s eyes piercing the dark. They’d stalked her since Friday. Anytime Sidone and her father shared a room, he’d be studying her, contemplating how and when to strike. [/FONT]
---
[FONT="]Sidone could feel Paolo’s eyes upon her the entire trip home from mass. Though the car had been covered in fall’s early night, each time the vehicle passed under another street lamp, his eyes would illuminate in the rear view mirror, like a wolf’s eyes piercing the dark. They’d stalked her since Friday. Anytime Sidone and her father shared a room, he’d be studying her, contemplating how and when to strike. [/FONT]
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"Lolo of the Royal Players always sticks by her friends."
“Are we friends, Lolo?”
“Why not? You played square with me. If you’d squealed to the Sea-Lord about me nipping your shine, I’d be in there instead of you. Plus, we went to see a corpse together. If that’s not friendship, what is?”
“Are we friends, Lolo?”
“Why not? You played square with me. If you’d squealed to the Sea-Lord about me nipping your shine, I’d be in there instead of you. Plus, we went to see a corpse together. If that’s not friendship, what is?”
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Awesome!
“Any sign of Pollo bopping our way?” I asked the pack of Marlboro Reds.
“I say, boy, chickens don’t bop,” replied the Shorts. “They plait. Don’t you know how to do the funky chicken?”
“I know how to do the stompy two-step on your culo. Is he headed our way or not?”
“I say, hold your water, boy. Lemme check…”
“Hey! Put the Foghorn Leghorn to quits while you‘re at it.”