Favorite lines you've written

“Maybe you can tell me why there’s an entire box of banjos in the kitchen.”

Memories had a way of sneaking up on you. A look, a word or an action could bring a reaction. Like now, as Harland looked back at the two boys, his memories of his parents came forcibly to the front. Like a deluge, emotions burst forth drowning him in a torrent of anger, sorrow, grief, sadness and happiness. The tears flowed along a flood of what ifs. What if-what if- what if. He let it go as his horse sauntered south,

Kat M said:

“Maybe you can tell me why there’s an entire box of banjos in the kitchen.”

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Lol, makes you wonder.

"Papi, you always tell us to be respectable and make something of ourselves, then you turn around and gleefully regale us with stories like the time you made illegal sexbots out of scrap metal and soiled mattresses so you could run a tetanus vaccine grift."

"Ahh, those were the days," his father said dreamily. "Uh, I mean, do as I say, not as I do! And anyway, I do not 'grift'. I'm an important part of the free market, I'll have you know! I teach people to be careful who they do business with. Honestly, they should be thanking me for educating them."

"Your sense of morality is so warped it's about to punch a hole in spacetime."

Hey now, I didn't take offense. I completely agree that reading my post in Mark Corrigan's voice probably would have that effect.

She had stolen his heart and caged his soul.

I wrote nearly 100 six-word stories the other day (they were so much fun). 70% were outright trash, of the other 27, this one was far and away my favorite:

"My time machine still works, right?"

(and I didn't post it 'Six Word Flash Fiction' thread.)

It was space that ruined her. I gave her a book about aliens just for laughs and she got hooked. The last anyone ever saw of her was her riding in the back of the truck with the Alien Believers’ Club.

My father is like an amorphous blob that fills whatever space it comes in contact with, as if he doesn’t have his own identity. He is the parasite glomming off the symbiotic host body.

Sandip said:

My father is like an amorphous blob that fills whatever space it comes in contact with, as if he doesn’t have his own identity. He is the parasite glomming off the symbiotic host body.

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That reminds me: Father's Day is only 23 days away.

(Great snippet, btw. )

“What am I doing in the parlour?” Joe spat at the big black and white cat staring at him from between two glazed angels on the fireplace mantle

ap123 said:

The thing was, they changed as I talked, or begged, or yelled. It was like my voice was their catalyst for gained inches and thickening fuzz. They would shift in the trapped space of a lecture, complaining the whole time that it wasn’t fair, they didn’t want to stop wearing their favorite MASH t-shirt, so what if their belly buttons stuck out, and what was wrong with snickering about the jiggles of Charlie’s Angels, anyways? But my same voice did nothing to produce the changes I wanted in me. When all I wanted was to be the one who was changing, but instead, the opposite. Sure, my lips were flapping, but inside I was turning to stone. And not the elegant marble of statues in the museum seen while I chaperoned school field trips, no. If you split me open I’d be the man-made chunks of concrete that comprised the apartment complex I lived in, where chips and cracks didn’t enhance interest and tell stories, they were threats and weakness and unwanted floods.

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Ahh I love this! SO many good word choices.

re: ap123's latest...

Anna Spargo-Ryan said:

Ahh I love this!

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Me too, Anna! Cases in point:

ap123 said:

...my voice was their catalyst for gained inches and thickening fuzz.

They would shift in the trapped space of a lecture...

But my same voice did nothing to produce the changes I wanted in me.

...where chips and cracks didn’t enhance interest and tell stories, they were threats and weakness and unwanted floods.

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Anna Spargo-Ryan said:

SO many good word choices.

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Yep.

Anna Spargo-Ryan said:

Ahh I love this! SO many good word choices.

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Thank you, Anna!

kkbe said:

re: ap123's latest...
Me too, Anna! Cases in point:



Yep.

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You're making me blush, thank you!

Goggling at him, Rsh said, "You spent weeks praising one particular mercenary's status updates. Raved how 'thought-provoking' and 'avant-garde' they were. Then you learned he merely posted the final words of every person he killed."

Should've figured it out from the merc's username, Blaze thought, '@SeveredQuotesFromSeveredThroats.'

The cave’s walls had torches attached to them that cast an orange light in attempt to banish the shadows creeping along the rocky surfaces. Barney’s mind spun the shadows that survived the torches’ light into monsters.

The Second Moon said:

The cave’s walls had torches attached to them that cast an orange light in attempt to banish the shadows creeping along the rocky surfaces. Barney’s mind spun the shadows that survived the torches’ light into monsters.

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I'd read on.

Cindyt said:

I'd read on.

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Thank you. I don't usually write that detailed, but this just came out of nowhere.

The door to the vault slammed open and a breathless guard bolted in. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to bother you, but the consul of Hawnn city are here.”

Uni nodded. “Alright. Just give me a minute.”

“No,” The guard cried. “You have to go now. Your step-father is entertaining them.”

“What!” Uni jerked his head back. “Please, no…not in the gorilla suit.”

(hopefully this isn't too goofy for YA )

ap123 said:

[FONT="]When she pulled her top off, I stared. No bra and not really needed. She was a tiny one, after all, but a little girl’s undershirt, ribbed with a frayed white satin bit at the center neckline. Spilling up her chest and across her shoulders were the scars from old burns, maybe cigarette burns, so numerous and overlapping it all looked like a rash at first glance. First and last, because then I turned my head. The marks gave me a flutter like the heart attacks Steve’d been giving me, a sick, this-is-the-end kind of feeling. The kind of scars that hurt forever, long after the heat was gone. I didn’t need to know if those same scars were anywhere else. None showed beneath the short black skirt of her uniform, I’d have noticed. Those scars, the baggy jeans and t-shirt topped by a plain men’s white button down were a story if I’d ever seen one, and some stories aren’t told.[/FONT]

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Beautiful!

Cindyt said:

Beautiful!

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Thank you!

ap123 said:

When she pulled her top off, I stared. No bra and not really needed. She was a tiny one, after all, but a little girl’s undershirt, ribbed with a frayed white satin bit at the center neckline. Spilling up her chest and across her shoulders were the scars from old burns, maybe cigarette burns, so numerous and overlapping it all looked like a rash at first glance. First and last, because then I turned my head. The marks gave me a flutter like the heart attacks Steve’d been giving me, a sick, this-is-the-end kind of feeling. The kind of scars that hurt forever, long after the heat was gone. I didn’t need to know if those same scars were anywhere else. None showed beneath the short black skirt of her uniform, I’d have noticed. Those scars, the baggy jeans and t-shirt topped by a plain men’s white button down were a story if I’d ever seen one, and some stories aren’t told.

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That couldn't have been easy to write. Or maybe it was. Tough to read, though. Truth like that often is.
Well done, ap123.

As he spoke, his voice left a subtle visual of a white wine in her thoughts; she could listen to him speak for hours. Laelah imagined cuddling up in bed on a Sunday mid-morning and just having him read to her. It could have been the damned newspaper for all she cared, she was drowning blissfully in his words.

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In their very first meeting, my MC and her other half, Beau.