You had me wincing at every sliced and diced veggie. I was waiting to see what she'd murder next.
Favorite lines you've written
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You had me wincing at every sliced and diced veggie. I was waiting to see what she'd murder next.
How I do love your writing. The dialogue versus the dismembering of the vegetables...perfect.
There's something grand and ancient and probably blood-soaked about this that makes me want to read more.
One senses Wilfrid is headed for a rough interview. I assume it's Godric in the litter.
Thanks very much. That's exactly what I was going for.
Here's another bit I'm pleased with. The Princess (Amren) is trying to round up the townsfolk after they've come under siege. She and Aigneis (person 2 in this exchange) have just found themselves locked out of the castle.
Amren was unconvinced. “No. We'll go through the sewer.”
“We have a sewer? I've just been shitting in a bucket.”
“Not exactly. I have a sewer.”
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I have a favourite line from each of my first two novels.
My first novel was set during WW1:
It was widely accepted that firing a machine gun at a man could be to his detriment.
My second novel is a retelling of the Trojan War. When Agamemnon offers one of his daughters in marriage to Achilles as recompense for seizing Briseis, Achilles replies with:
“Who but a piglet would want a pig as a father-in-law?”
My first novel was set during WW1:
It was widely accepted that firing a machine gun at a man could be to his detriment.
My second novel is a retelling of the Trojan War. When Agamemnon offers one of his daughters in marriage to Achilles as recompense for seizing Briseis, Achilles replies with:
“Who but a piglet would want a pig as a father-in-law?”
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[FONT=comic\ sans\ ms]Hope is like a candle on a cow-pie. But fear? Fear will keep you alive. [/FONT]
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I just skipped over to this thread for a little refresher and what do I find? Choice little nuggets! For example:
Candle on a cow-pie, indeed.
Candle on a cow-pie, indeed.
<taken a bit out of context>
The enemy barrage shook the city until long after dark. Civilians and abandoned soldiers manned the wall, answering the hammering clatter of the Tribe’s railguns with the mechanical hiss of large laser weapons. Fires bloomed at the edge of their defenses and along the streets as well. Several times rockets exploded near their building. It was unnerving to realize how easily their sanctuary could become a target and reduced to burning rubble.
Lisa’s children were terrified and hid beneath blankets in what had once been the lab's breakroom. Rose and their mother stayed with them, offering what comfort they could, but some fears cannot be quelled by soft well-meaning placations. Thankfully, the shelling stopped shortly after midnight, and the children were at last able to escape into sleep.
Later, Liam and Rose stood on the balcony and watched as the fires that were started by the earlier bombardment relentlessly spread through the city. What was the point of the war? When the fighting finally stopped, as it had to at some point, would there be anything left to conquer? It would be a victory of ashes, not of either side.
The enemy barrage shook the city until long after dark. Civilians and abandoned soldiers manned the wall, answering the hammering clatter of the Tribe’s railguns with the mechanical hiss of large laser weapons. Fires bloomed at the edge of their defenses and along the streets as well. Several times rockets exploded near their building. It was unnerving to realize how easily their sanctuary could become a target and reduced to burning rubble.
Lisa’s children were terrified and hid beneath blankets in what had once been the lab's breakroom. Rose and their mother stayed with them, offering what comfort they could, but some fears cannot be quelled by soft well-meaning placations. Thankfully, the shelling stopped shortly after midnight, and the children were at last able to escape into sleep.
Later, Liam and Rose stood on the balcony and watched as the fires that were started by the earlier bombardment relentlessly spread through the city. What was the point of the war? When the fighting finally stopped, as it had to at some point, would there be anything left to conquer? It would be a victory of ashes, not of either side.
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[at a medieval weapons shop]
Amy: Yes, could I get two lightsabers, a Bat'leth, Sting, Excalibur, Mjolnir, and a ball-and-chain flail?
Amy: Yes, could I get two lightsabers, a Bat'leth, Sting, Excalibur, Mjolnir, and a ball-and-chain flail?
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A little historical fiction-in-progress:
A crowd is gathering. The women are pinned to the edges, watching. Some of them put their hands to their own round bellies and their futures are painted on them. Annie feels she should be more useful, to go to them and tell them everything is fine.
‘Everything is fine,’ she says, feeling stupid. She says it while she looks at the knees. They are blue and silver and wet.
‘Not long now, girl,’ says the Matron.
Annie sees a bit of thigh now. A red thigh, a slick of fresh blood from mother to infant kneecap. The girl is screeching now, and the bird on the wall is also screeching and the woman have formed a perimeter and the sound is deafening.
The thighs are stuck. They are pinned together like a doll in a music box.
A crowd is gathering. The women are pinned to the edges, watching. Some of them put their hands to their own round bellies and their futures are painted on them. Annie feels she should be more useful, to go to them and tell them everything is fine.
‘Everything is fine,’ she says, feeling stupid. She says it while she looks at the knees. They are blue and silver and wet.
‘Not long now, girl,’ says the Matron.
Annie sees a bit of thigh now. A red thigh, a slick of fresh blood from mother to infant kneecap. The girl is screeching now, and the bird on the wall is also screeching and the woman have formed a perimeter and the sound is deafening.
The thighs are stuck. They are pinned together like a doll in a music box.
A little YA in the normal world of the protagonist before I get into the fantasy:
"I'm just worried about you, honey," their mom said. "You're dressing like a lesbian. Do you really want people to think that of you?"
Alex turned away before they lost control of their poker face. Yes, mother, they didn't say. I'm dressing like a butch lesbian because that's what I am. It wouldn't quite be the truth, leaving out the whole agender thing and all, but it was amusing to think about.
"I'm just worried about you, honey," their mom said. "You're dressing like a lesbian. Do you really want people to think that of you?"
Alex turned away before they lost control of their poker face. Yes, mother, they didn't say. I'm dressing like a butch lesbian because that's what I am. It wouldn't quite be the truth, leaving out the whole agender thing and all, but it was amusing to think about.
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WriteMinded is right, Anna S. Everything you write is poetry. Sometimes lilting. Sometimes raw. Always evocative.
She's mocking them: the ball-and-chain flail was never actually used in the real world, and she's saying that because the shop is stocking that fictional weapon, why isn't it stocking any of the others
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You are both lovely! I love this thread.
Beth, that's the end of the scene! You won't find out what happened to her for two more chapters *suspense music*