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This sounds fun!
Title: The Paranormal Life of Jonathan Young Genre: Horror/Comedy
The supernatural has always been a part of my life, regardless if I wanted it to be or not. I had convinced myself so much of it was the overactive imagination of a kid who spent too much time in his head in order to cope with all the shit life threw at him. Here’s the thing, the memory is a fickle thing, a picture book drawn by a bad artist, an unreliable narrator leading us astray, but it is also something of a benevolent protector shielding us from what lies just beyond the veil that divides our fragile concepts of reality and the sledgehammer that is the truth.
REVISION
Title: BUTCHERS; Genre: Urban Horror
First three lines below.
***
Tonight, Song Min Gun brought his butchering tools.
He clung, five stories up, to the surface of a rough brick wall. A bone saw, attached to his belt by a thin chain, swayed gently in the autumn breeze.
This sounds fun!
Title: The Paranormal Life of Jonathan Young Genre: Horror/Comedy
The supernatural has always been a part of my life, regardless if I wanted it to be or not. I had convinced myself so much of it was the overactive imagination of a kid who spent too much time in his head in order to cope with all the shit life threw at him. Here’s the thing, the memory is a fickle thing, a picture book drawn by a bad artist, an unreliable narrator leading us astray, but it is also something of a benevolent protector shielding us from what lies just beyond the veil that divides our fragile concepts of reality and the sledgehammer that is the truth.
Those lines read well to me (though 3rd sentence runs on a bit, I'd break at astray) -- though I did wonder when the story will start.The supernatural has always been a part of my life, regardless if I wanted it to be or not. I had convinced myself so much of it was the overactive imagination of a kid who spent too much time in his head in order to cope with all the shit life threw at him. Here’s the thing, the memory is a fickle thing, a picture book drawn by a bad artist, an unreliable narrator leading us astray, but it is also something of a benevolent protector shielding us from what lies just beyond the veil that divides our fragile concepts of reality and the sledgehammer that is the truth.
REVISION
Title: BUTCHERS; Genre: Urban Horror
First three lines below.
***
Tonight, Song Min Gun brought his butchering tools.
He clung, five stories up, to the surface of a rough brick wall. A bone saw, attached to his belt by a thin chain, swayed gently in the autumn breeze.
This sounds fun!
Title: The Paranormal Life of Jonathan Young Genre: Horror/Comedy
The supernatural has always been a part of my life, regardless if I wanted it to be or not. I had convinced myself so much of it was the overactive imagination of a kid who spent too much time in his head in order to cope with all the shit life threw at him. Here’s the thing, the memory is a fickle thing, a picture book drawn by a bad artist, an unreliable narrator leading us astray, but it is also something of a benevolent protector shielding us from what lies just beyond the veil that divides our fragile concepts of reality and the sledgehammer that is the truth.
From my latest spaghetti thrown against the wall to see what sticks:
WORK IS LIFE. Those words, worked in iron and gold filigree, hung over the entrance to the slave mine. The overseers made sure we saw it at least once before they strapped excavators to our arms and neurowhipped us down into the darkness.
From my latest spaghetti thrown against the wall to see what sticks:
WORK IS LIFE. Those words, worked in iron and gold filigree, hung over the entrance to the slave mine. The overseers made sure we saw it at least once before they strapped excavators to our arms and neurowhipped us down into the darkness.
From my latest spaghetti thrown against the wall to see what sticks:
WORK IS LIFE. Those words, worked in iron and gold filigree, hung over the entrance to the slave mine. The overseers made sure we saw it at least once before they strapped excavators to our arms and neurowhipped us down into the darkness.
I like it, it's intriguing but I would have set it up the other way around for added effect:
The words, worked in iron and gold filigree, hung over the entrance to the slave mine. The overseers made sure we saw them at least once before they strapped excavators to our arms and neurowhipped us down into the darkness — WORK IS LIFE.
Just a suggestion.
From my latest spaghetti thrown against the wall to see what sticks:
WORK IS LIFE. Those words, worked in iron and gold filigree, hung over the entrance to the slave mine. The overseers made sure we saw it at least once before they strapped excavators to our arms and neurowhipped us down into the darkness.
Here is one of mine. The MC is anxious, his mind is whirling, I didn't splice sentences together just for this thread. :)
Gordon looked at his watch again. She was late, she was twenty minutes late, was she lost, was her limo driving in circles trying to find the church? It was the big white building with the spire on top, you could see it for miles from any direction.
-Derek
Here is one of mine. The MC is anxious, his mind is whirling, I didn't splice sentences together just for this thread. :)
Gordon looked at his watch again. She was late, she was twenty minutes late, was she lost, was her limo driving in circles trying to find the church? It was the big white building with the spire on top, you could see it for miles from any direction.
-Derek
Title: Hotel Mambo
This works for me. The parallel structure is interesting and sets a certain tone. I would read on to see where it goes from here. (At this point, the style is more interesting than the characters and events, but that's okay as long as it keeps me reading!)Title: HONJA; Genre: Fantasy; Estimated Word Count: 3000 words.
First three lines below.
***
The leader of the marauders asked the man his name, and he said, “Honja.”
The leader asked Honja why he stood on the side of the road leading to Suncheon City, and he said, “I’m looking for a means to pay my way through the world.”
The leader noted Honja’s worn clothes, mud stained boots, and the sword and dagger he carried, and said, “Then come with us.”
Title: Hotel Mambo
In the olde days, when the Slaves were barely free, the Butterfly Azule would dance from the Hangman’s Bayou above our small town of 400 souls. When their sapphire kissed the moonlight, they dazzled, enchanting the populace with a sky of became the sparkling Neptune starlit fireflies. And because of their enchanting beauty.