OMG! Ignore my last post . I thought this was the "share the last line you wrote" thread! Heh. I was wondering my everyone's last lines were so good.
Last edited:
Favorite lines you've written
- Thread starter Charlie Horse
- Start date
I like this, gives me not just a clear picture, but a sense of who this character is--nice!
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2011
- Messages
- 5,773
- Reaction score
- 1,687
- Location
- Left of center
- Website
- kkelliewriteme.wordpress.com
I just stopped by to peruse the latest. Once again, I'm so impressed by the writing here; in fact, I could reach into the mix blindfolded, knowing I'd pull out something good. Case in point:
Love that last bit especially. Please keep posting, you guys. Your writing is an inspiration.
Last edited:
Androids that feel they are brother and sister - lamenting lost relationships: (Roxi is the person that built them)
She lowered her head to mask her tears with her dark hair. “I hate these feelings and wish Roxi had made us emotionless robots instead of what we are. Right now, not feeling anything would be a gift.”
There was truth in her words. He pulled her close then rested his cheek on her head. “I know. Life would be so much simpler if I just didn’t care,” he whispered. “But it would be empty too. Pain gives dimension and meaning to everything we see and do, and without it, I don’t think we’d be alive at all.”
She lowered her head to mask her tears with her dark hair. “I hate these feelings and wish Roxi had made us emotionless robots instead of what we are. Right now, not feeling anything would be a gift.”
There was truth in her words. He pulled her close then rested his cheek on her head. “I know. Life would be so much simpler if I just didn’t care,” he whispered. “But it would be empty too. Pain gives dimension and meaning to everything we see and do, and without it, I don’t think we’d be alive at all.”
I'm glad you do this from time to time, because then I get to read the latest quirky/entertaining/heartbreaking/totally unique quote in your sigline.
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2011
- Messages
- 5,773
- Reaction score
- 1,687
- Location
- Left of center
- Website
- kkelliewriteme.wordpress.com
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2011
- Messages
- 5,773
- Reaction score
- 1,687
- Location
- Left of center
- Website
- kkelliewriteme.wordpress.com
Oh man, did I kill the thread? I take it back, BethS--your words mean nothing to me...
Of course I jest but yeah, let's keep this thread going. I'll start, with a little excerpt from my long-suffering WIP.
(Note: the narrator is a really bright 9 y/o kid telling his own story but pretending it's about somebody else.)
The knife had a plain wood handle. It wasn’t very big at all, maybe four inches long if you measured end to end. The blade itself was pitted but when Eric ran his thumb down the edge, it was sharp enough to draw a drop of blood, which Eric licked off. He stood up, pocketed the knife and kept walking. Finally, he stopped for a break in a nice shady area under a big old oak tree.
Eric sat cross-legged under the tree and rested that way for a little while. Then, he opened his eyes and slid the knife from his back pocket. He stared at it, thinking about what his mom said: if he had a soul, he’d feel.
Test time. Eric took a deep breath, pressed the edge of the blade to his left arm right above the wrist, and sliced.
Of course I jest but yeah, let's keep this thread going. I'll start, with a little excerpt from my long-suffering WIP.
(Note: the narrator is a really bright 9 y/o kid telling his own story but pretending it's about somebody else.)
The knife had a plain wood handle. It wasn’t very big at all, maybe four inches long if you measured end to end. The blade itself was pitted but when Eric ran his thumb down the edge, it was sharp enough to draw a drop of blood, which Eric licked off. He stood up, pocketed the knife and kept walking. Finally, he stopped for a break in a nice shady area under a big old oak tree.
Eric sat cross-legged under the tree and rested that way for a little while. Then, he opened his eyes and slid the knife from his back pocket. He stared at it, thinking about what his mom said: if he had a soul, he’d feel.
Test time. Eric took a deep breath, pressed the edge of the blade to his left arm right above the wrist, and sliced.
Last edited:
Oh man, did I kill the thread? I take it back, BethS--your words mean nothing to me...
Of course I jest but yeah, let's keep this thread going. I'll start, with a little excerpt from my long-suffering WIP.
(Note: the narrator is a really bright 9 y/o kid telling his own story but pretending it's about somebody else.)
The knife had a plain wood handle. It wasn’t very big at all, maybe four inches long if you measured end to end. The blade itself was pitted but when Eric ran his thumb down the edge, it was sharp enough to draw a drop of blood, which Eric licked off. He stood up, pocketed the knife and kept walking. Finally, he stopped for a break in a nice shady area under a big old oak tree.
Eric sat cross-legged under the tree and rested that way for a little while. Then, he opened his eyes and slid the knife from his back pocket. He stared at it, thinking about what his mom said: if he had a soul, he’d feel.
Test time. Eric took a deep breath, pressed the edge of the blade to his left arm right above the wrist, and sliced.
Oh yes!!!!! I *felt* this. Vivid and palpable, kk.
Poor Peter, getting rather twitchy about certain things from his past... He's meeting Cynthia, who is acting as secretary for "Sir James" or "Uncle Jim", who was Peter's guardian while Peter was a minor and is still guardian to Peter's younger brothers.
“I’m sorry, but we haven’t met," says Cynthia.
“I’m Peter,” I said.
Her eyes went wide, and I winced. I knew that look: Peter Pan. And then, behind it: But you don’t look like Peter Pan. You’re grown up, and your cheeks are wasted, and you’re very thin, and you have a mustache. I’m sure Peter Pan could never have a mustache.
Cynthia said, “Peter Davies, I take it! What a pleasure. I’ve met Nico—he’s a delight—but I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Michael or Jack yet [Peter's brothers]. I know how much Sir James thinks of you all.”
She gestured vaguely towards the kitchen. “Shall I get you something? Tea?”
“Oh. No, I . . . I could get it myself. I was hoping—hoping Uncle Jim was here?”
“Oh, he’s just gone out for a bit . . .”
“I . . . I suppose I’ll wait.”
“Very well, Captain Davies.”
My eye twitched. First she reminds me, however inadvertently, of that other Peter, then she reminds me of the war [the Great War].
“I’m sorry, but we haven’t met," says Cynthia.
“I’m Peter,” I said.
Her eyes went wide, and I winced. I knew that look: Peter Pan. And then, behind it: But you don’t look like Peter Pan. You’re grown up, and your cheeks are wasted, and you’re very thin, and you have a mustache. I’m sure Peter Pan could never have a mustache.
Cynthia said, “Peter Davies, I take it! What a pleasure. I’ve met Nico—he’s a delight—but I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Michael or Jack yet [Peter's brothers]. I know how much Sir James thinks of you all.”
She gestured vaguely towards the kitchen. “Shall I get you something? Tea?”
“Oh. No, I . . . I could get it myself. I was hoping—hoping Uncle Jim was here?”
“Oh, he’s just gone out for a bit . . .”
“I . . . I suppose I’ll wait.”
“Very well, Captain Davies.”
My eye twitched. First she reminds me, however inadvertently, of that other Peter, then she reminds me of the war [the Great War].
Last edited:
This is awesome. Eric reminds me a bit of the MMC in Let The Right One In - maybe just damaged, maybe actually soulless, the whole woodsy vibe... very creepy and cool.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2011
- Messages
- 5,773
- Reaction score
- 1,687
- Location
- Left of center
- Website
- kkelliewriteme.wordpress.com
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2011
- Messages
- 5,773
- Reaction score
- 1,687
- Location
- Left of center
- Website
- kkelliewriteme.wordpress.com
Vampires and messed-up 12 y/o boys? Now why didn't I think of that?
Thank you, Ellis.
Oh man, did I kill the thread? I take it back, BethS--your words mean nothing to me...
Of course I jest but yeah, let's keep this thread going. I'll start, with a little excerpt from my long-suffering WIP.
(Note: the narrator is a really bright 9 y/o kid telling his own story but pretending it's about somebody else.)
The knife had a plain wood handle. It wasn’t very big at all, maybe four inches long if you measured end to end. The blade itself was pitted but when Eric ran his thumb down the edge, it was sharp enough to draw a drop of blood, which Eric licked off. He stood up, pocketed the knife and kept walking. Finally, he stopped for a break in a nice shady area under a big old oak tree.
Eric sat cross-legged under the tree and rested that way for a little while. Then, he opened his eyes and slid the knife from his back pocket. He stared at it, thinking about what his mom said: if he had a soul, he’d feel.
Test time. Eric took a deep breath, pressed the edge of the blade to his left arm right above the wrist, and sliced.
Eeek! Stop this at once, Eric! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear...
kkbe, I'd say you've restarted this thread with bang. Or with a sharp swipe of the knife. We will consider ourselves duly prodded.
What a fabulous passage, I feel it, and I love it!
Particularly this
And this, so much this
Regal had the other investors' respect for his business and people skills. Undoubtedly, some of them were grateful Paul would be the one dealing with Fillmore meaning they could have Bernie's talent without having to do the maintenance. The investors were unanimous in the decision to ask Fillmore to be the general manager.
The Fillmores were ecstatic with Mariah breaking into tears when Regal gave them the news.
“Not many people our age with kids have an opportunity to be part of a life changing event. It was exciting,” Bernie remembered.
“It's funny,” Mariah added with some emotion. “Sometimes your dream opportunity turns out to be one you never dreamt about.”
The Fillmores were ecstatic with Mariah breaking into tears when Regal gave them the news.
“Not many people our age with kids have an opportunity to be part of a life changing event. It was exciting,” Bernie remembered.
“It's funny,” Mariah added with some emotion. “Sometimes your dream opportunity turns out to be one you never dreamt about.”
Thank you so much!
We needed a happy moment. Something going right for someone. Enough of this dire stuff.
Thanks for sharing!
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2011
- Messages
- 5,773
- Reaction score
- 1,687
- Location
- Left of center
- Website
- kkelliewriteme.wordpress.com
Very nice, beautiful_land and I echo BethS: your sweet passage is like a balm for the soul. Thank you for reminding us that good things happen, too.
One prod is all it takes to remind us that really scary horrid things happen, too. That passage is menacing as shit. I was actually scared for that girl and then, worst fear coming to light...holy groznoskies, batman!!! Really well done, BethS.
Last edited:
I have a few favorite lines I have written or thought of.
This one from a soldier guy when he and his group were being attacked by a magician. The soldier guy in question was a veteran special-forces type, and he and his group were on a boat which had just gotten stuck on a sheet of ice conjured by the magician. He said this, in reply to a teammate who said something like, "This is impossible!"
My guy said: "My good sir, I am a Degoran Army Ranger, and I specialize in the impossible, so believe me when I tell you that this is not it!"
Another favorite one I have tucked away in my mind (which I hope to work into a story some day), is as follows: "The world needs strong good men, because there are too many strong bad men."
This one from a soldier guy when he and his group were being attacked by a magician. The soldier guy in question was a veteran special-forces type, and he and his group were on a boat which had just gotten stuck on a sheet of ice conjured by the magician. He said this, in reply to a teammate who said something like, "This is impossible!"
My guy said: "My good sir, I am a Degoran Army Ranger, and I specialize in the impossible, so believe me when I tell you that this is not it!"
Another favorite one I have tucked away in my mind (which I hope to work into a story some day), is as follows: "The world needs strong good men, because there are too many strong bad men."
Thank you, Beth and kkbe. I appreciate it.
Mariah says with a giggle she can't remember when she met her husband, but Bernie has no trouble reliving the moment.
“It was during planting season on a warm and sunny morning. Even though we were business competitors, we and the Oneida store helped each other with minor things when we could. Oneida was also a family business and over the generations we had a friendship with them. Anyway, I went over for something and there she was. Mariah wasn't actually working that day, but she had come in for a minute to look over a large order. She was wearing a white t-shirt and pink shorts with white trim. I remember she had on Nikes with little white socks. The Nike swoosh was so much bigger on the shoes than they are today.”
Mariah looked at her husband while he recalled this and then looked away rolling her eyes while letting a big smile appear on her face.
“Ask him what I wore yesterday.”
“Anyway,” Bernie continued with playful annoyance. “You could look up from those Nikes and see the most gorgeous legs, the cutest butt.”
“Oh, my god.”
“And the most beautiful down her back blonde hair and along with that the prettiest face you would ever see.”
Maria's face turned red and she giggled. “Oh goodness. Were you in love right away?”
“I don't know that, but I knew I had just met the most beautiful girl ever.”
Mariah says with a giggle she can't remember when she met her husband, but Bernie has no trouble reliving the moment.
“It was during planting season on a warm and sunny morning. Even though we were business competitors, we and the Oneida store helped each other with minor things when we could. Oneida was also a family business and over the generations we had a friendship with them. Anyway, I went over for something and there she was. Mariah wasn't actually working that day, but she had come in for a minute to look over a large order. She was wearing a white t-shirt and pink shorts with white trim. I remember she had on Nikes with little white socks. The Nike swoosh was so much bigger on the shoes than they are today.”
Mariah looked at her husband while he recalled this and then looked away rolling her eyes while letting a big smile appear on her face.
“Ask him what I wore yesterday.”
“Anyway,” Bernie continued with playful annoyance. “You could look up from those Nikes and see the most gorgeous legs, the cutest butt.”
“Oh, my god.”
“And the most beautiful down her back blonde hair and along with that the prettiest face you would ever see.”
Maria's face turned red and she giggled. “Oh goodness. Were you in love right away?”
“I don't know that, but I knew I had just met the most beautiful girl ever.”
Last edited:
Thank you, BethS.
By 1990, it had been a good six years. Marriott had made the right choice in who they picked, McMahon had enjoyed the work and while there were the usual bad times which came with the life and times of any high school, it had been a fairly successful era in all aspects of academics, athletics and activities for the M-Hawks. Even the most awful aspect of the 1980s helped McMahon grow as an educator and human being.
“The farm crises put a lot of stress on many kids. I don’t mean to mock today’s teenagers. But worrying about what somebody said on Facebook or Twitter or whatever is nothing compared to what a lot of our students dealt with. We had kids who lost their homes, whose parents went through divorces and we had a couple of kids who sadly lost family members to suicide. When things such as that happened, we didn’t have teams of counselors come in to the school. It was us. It was the staff, it was the kids and their families. We were a community. We helped each other. It was tough, and we didn’t come through unscathed. But the courage shown by Marriott people has always stayed with me. To me it was what an educational community should be. We’re in this together so let’s get through it together.”
By 1990, it had been a good six years. Marriott had made the right choice in who they picked, McMahon had enjoyed the work and while there were the usual bad times which came with the life and times of any high school, it had been a fairly successful era in all aspects of academics, athletics and activities for the M-Hawks. Even the most awful aspect of the 1980s helped McMahon grow as an educator and human being.
“The farm crises put a lot of stress on many kids. I don’t mean to mock today’s teenagers. But worrying about what somebody said on Facebook or Twitter or whatever is nothing compared to what a lot of our students dealt with. We had kids who lost their homes, whose parents went through divorces and we had a couple of kids who sadly lost family members to suicide. When things such as that happened, we didn’t have teams of counselors come in to the school. It was us. It was the staff, it was the kids and their families. We were a community. We helped each other. It was tough, and we didn’t come through unscathed. But the courage shown by Marriott people has always stayed with me. To me it was what an educational community should be. We’re in this together so let’s get through it together.”