tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post4190938734767595203..comments2023-09-05T12:51:25.656-05:00Comments on edittorrent: A new exerciseEdittorrenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14295505709568570553noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-65897943121089477042009-06-18T20:16:35.882-05:002009-06-18T20:16:35.882-05:00These examples are really helpful, I hope you keep...These examples are really helpful, I hope you keep doing them!<br /><br /><br />The blood flooded my mouth with its foul taste of salt and heat, but it felt good to bleed. There was no pain from the fall, only the glorious relief of not having to run from my own thoughts anymore. My mind was finally empty of the words that had relentlessly sounded in my head all day, and the wind soothed my aching body. I spat off the running track and watched the scarlet fade as it bloomed and then sunk into the mushy brown earth. Laying back my head on the track I watched serenely as the sun died and darkness filled my October sky. Winter always came early to Santa Isabel but this year the nights had begun to steal away the autumn light earlier than I was accustomed to, cheating the town of any semblance of warmth. Thunder began to rumble angrily and the cold numbed my naked arms, but I still felt warm and content from running. The rain was soft when it came, and I might have stayed there all night if Huxley Leander hadn’t found me.Melisa Yrastorzanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-34735412487866183312009-06-15T20:25:41.299-05:002009-06-15T20:25:41.299-05:00If ever you get this far, this is a paragraph I...If ever you get this far, this is a paragraph I'm stuck on. It's about 5 pages into my MS, and obviously *I* don't have a problem understanding it, but I think I've had half of my CPs get it and half not. Sigh.<br /><br />set up: Molly's priest was murdered at the church three weeks ago. Father O'Leary, the new priest (*wink*wink* if you remember log line #1), has just arrived and Molly is showing him from the church to the rectory. He says, "You know, when I came to Chicago, I kind of expected to end up in the inner city, not a place like this." (Side note: Originally from Dublin, Molly immigrated to Chicago with her family five years ago.)<br /><br />The four sentences:<br />How must the buildings that were so familiar she hardly noticed them look to Father O'Leary? Three years ago, she compared the Gothic chapel, its stone facade flanked by blazing maples in a carpet of lawn, to her parents' church in city center. At the time, St. Adelaide seemed a suburban oasis; three weeks ago she was disabused of that notion.<br /><br />"I'm sure it'll get to feelin' like home soon enough," she murmured.<br /><br />Thanks! I'm enjoying reading all the examples.Jordanhttp://jordanmccollum.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-14806055835313882222009-06-13T10:05:36.833-05:002009-06-13T10:05:36.833-05:00Sorry! I just remembered you only want four senten...Sorry! I just remembered you only want four sentences. Just grab what you want out of my paragraphs above (if you're still going). <br /><br />You've gone through so many already. I've learned a lot. Thanks for this.Casey Somethinghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17596079290053524103noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-87895407019361656892009-06-13T09:56:19.023-05:002009-06-13T09:56:19.023-05:00If you're still going through these, here are ...If you're still going through these, here are two more paragraphs. Thanks so much!<br /><br />***<br /><br />Everyone is wearing pastels. Well, everyone except me. I’m wearing a red renaissance-style dress (complete with rib-wrenching corset) and black combat boots. I don’t know why. I just showed up here from my other life, so things are a little disorienting at the moment. <br /><br />The fact that I’m dressed strangely isn’t surprising. I usually do. I just don’t dress quite this weird, not usually. Not that it matters. My once-had status of freak has become a non-deal. Now the eyes of my peers move past me as if I don’t exist. Instead, they move from one Ken- or Barbie-wannabe to the next, afraid to give me any interest.Casey Somethinghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17596079290053524103noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-87914910174099648092009-06-10T11:25:02.404-05:002009-06-10T11:25:02.404-05:00Oh, dear. I might be too late, but just in case I...Oh, dear. I might be too late, but just in case I'm not... Thanks for doing this.<br /><br />A metallic clang jolted Lia out of her half-doze. She glanced around, vaguely embarrassed, and rubbed her arms as she reoriented herself. Multihued bars of morning light streamed down from the casement perched at the pinnacle of the temple wall. Standing at the pulpit, Father Chase wielded a rather large communion bell. Disapproval shadowed his lined face and his gaze moved from face to stagnant face as he tried to determine whether he had sufficiently jarred his wayward congregation.Julia Westonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02047973189628160003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-44722824548662845982009-06-09T19:10:41.246-05:002009-06-09T19:10:41.246-05:00Thank you for the opportunity!
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T...Thank you for the opportunity!<br /><br />---------------<br /><br />The booming woke me. It was a distant sort of boom, a muffled rumbling sound that sounded like a far-off explosion. I opened my eyes and sat up, looking towards the right where the sound had come from, and saw what looked like rockets shooting straight up into the sky in a circle ten blocks or so away, leaving white trails of smoke behind them. Their formation looked like a strange sort of floating jellyfish.<br /><br />From the corner of my eye, I could see that Lucy and Marge had turned to look, too. Lucy said, "Is it a fireworks display? What day is it?"<br /><br />"Fireworks so close to the city? There wasn't any announcement or anything like that. Do you think they wanted to surprise us?"Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-56364636144122595672009-06-09T14:22:22.166-05:002009-06-09T14:22:22.166-05:00This comment has been removed by the author.Amy Jane (Untangling Tales)https://www.blogger.com/profile/17781603642364189037noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-7667873936514165252009-06-09T14:12:05.001-05:002009-06-09T14:12:05.001-05:00This is great!
“NO!” Andy gasped for air, but it...This is great! <br /><br />“NO!” Andy gasped for air, but it gave her no relief. She felt all of the plans they had made together slipping away. She and Kent were supposed to have a long life together. See the world together. They were going to start a family together. Their future was being taken away from them because someone couldn’t keep their damn eyes open.<br /><br />She felt her anger and sorrow conflicting with one another and didn’t know which one to hold onto. She walked to Kent and held onto him matching him sob for sob. What was she going to do now? She felt him, but he clearly couldn’t feel or hear her.Jaymihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06359737278832672715noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-71971975700543728872009-06-09T13:52:15.449-05:002009-06-09T13:52:15.449-05:00If you're still accepting, I'd love to joi...If you're still accepting, I'd love to join in! This is from a YA fantasy.<br /><br />_______________________<br /><br /><br />Suddenly the air shifted, and a great dragon stood over him. A torn wing hung near the broken pieces of marble, while the other hovered protectively around the man, as if to shield him from those who slowed their steps long enough to gawk at the latest casualty in Jarentho.<br /><br />Gianna pulled her cloak around herself more tightly and rubbed her eyes. Casualties were nothing new in Jarentho, nor in any of the other nearby cities. Dragons that seemed to shimmer in the cold winter air were another matter completely. They no longer existed, except in the fairy tales she'd heard at her grandmother's knee. True, Grandmother said their scales glistened with iridescent colors as this one's did, but that didn't mean anything. Besides, people were walking through its body as though it didn't exist.Kathleen MacIverhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02263212018219137277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-74892088763209564342009-06-09T12:05:37.473-05:002009-06-09T12:05:37.473-05:00Oh boy, here goes. A few paragraphs from my curre...Oh boy, here goes. A few paragraphs from my current WIP. <br />___________________________<br /><br />Monaco, Grand Prix Week<br /><br />Unlike most nightclubs in Monte-Carlo, there were no bright neon lights flashing above l’Intrigue’s front door, no unending line of eager faces waiting behind a red velvet rope, and no Lamborghinis and Limousines parked out front.<br /><br />Located on the very east side of the principality, as a private establishment that catered to vampires and to the mortals who could afford the nightly five-hundred-dollar cover charge, the circumspect brass plate on the front door barely drew the eye.<br /><br />As the saying went, if you didn’t know how to find it, you shouldn’t be here.<br /><br />Grudges and vendettas were left at l’Intrigue’s front door. Disagreements were settled outside. Owned and operated by a small group of vampires with no clan association, the nightclub was a refuge and a conduit to the immortal grapevine.<br /><br />With the race less than four days away, however, tonight it was crowded with the regular European jet setters that drifted aimlessly from one hot spot to the next, tourists, some obviously from the ocean-liners docked in the harbor, and several celebrities.<br /><br />The flashing azure lights above the dance floor were soothing to Vasilios of Sparta's highly sensitive eyes and, as he sat at the bar, he twisted around to sweep his gaze across the packed nightclub. He took in the shimmering jewelry adorning the women’s ears, necks and wrists, took in the elegant clothes and what could only be designer shoes, and realised how underdressed he was. Not that he gave a damn. If his favorite jeans, gray tee and black jogging shoes didn’t make the cut, these high-flyers could stuff it! He wondered if any of them suspected they were rubbing elbows with immortal creatures, whom if given half-a-chance, wouldn’t hesitate to rip their throats out?<br /><br />But the rules were clear in Monaco. His clan--damn it, he had to stop thinking of it as his clan--the macCumail clan made certain of that. And now, thanks to their partnership with the local vampire hunters, they pretty much policed the area.Bliss244noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-23529511528775451072009-06-09T08:49:49.207-05:002009-06-09T08:49:49.207-05:00WOW!! What an opportunity! Here are the first 17...WOW!! What an opportunity! Here are the first 172 words of book two. Shorten it if you wish.<br /><br /><br /> “Go away!” Kincaid shouted at Joe. There wasn’t a need to turn in the saddle and look back. He was there. The sounds of creaking leather and the clip of hooves said so. He had been there for half a day since he come trottin’ up with the pack mule in tow. Like he was ready to follow as long as he wanted the mule was loaded so. <br /> <br /> “I said ‘Go away’,” the young man shouted again.<br /><br /> “Thought you said I free,” Joe replied. “Thought you said I ain’t a slave no longer. That Lerocque don’t own me, and you don’t own me.” <br /><br /> “I did!” Kincaid snapped.<br /><br /> “Then I free to ride where I want. Free to ride south like I doin’. Maybe go to Santa Fe and spend some time.”<br /><br /> “I don’t need no mammy!” Kincaid raised his voice more. Can’t that darky see I don’t want to be around no one. That bein’ alone and lettin’ the hurt play out was what a man needed at a time like this.Weshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03077791761104576436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-91895580859980523802009-06-08T22:23:02.646-05:002009-06-08T22:23:02.646-05:00I should have come by sooner! You'll never hav...I should have come by sooner! You'll never have time to get all the way to 30 :(<br /><br />Anyway, just in case I get lucky:<br /><br />My name is Elder, even though I'm the youngest one on the ship. Not that I'm young. Sixteen years should mark me as an adult. But still, I'm youngest by a decade.<br /><br />I lay on the cool metal floor of the Keeper Level, the only level with a window to the uni outside. Above me, the stars are abbreviated dashes in the sky, with streaks of faint colors—mostly reds and yellows, but sometimes blues or greens—within the lines of the stars.<br /><br />I wonder, sometimes—I can't help but wonder—what it will feel like to stand on Centauri-Earth and look up at the stars and see only dots of light, not trailing splatters of delicate colors. It'll be a long time, I know—I'll be really old by the time we land, but when we do, I hope it’s at night. I want it to be really dark with no clouds or moons, and I hope before we set out to make our new world as the first humans on another planet, we all take a moment to stand still on the planet and look at the sparkling stars.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11431700962951592287noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-28976865052834743982009-06-08T22:15:26.840-05:002009-06-08T22:15:26.840-05:00I'll play!!
“Right, but this has to be agains...I'll play!!<br /><br />“Right, but this has to be against some rule.” I stood there, flummoxed. I think a quip might have come off stronger. You know how when you know something for sure, but you don’t know why - like, if someone says ‘but how do you know this isn’t all just a dream?’ You just know, but you don’t know how you know. This is how I knew that Nelson and Danny the Sidekick should not be rolling cigarettes at work. Sure, I couldn’t quote the employee handbook on this one, but it had to be against some rule, somewhere.<br /> Galen hadn’t shown up today. We all knew he had an interview at Microsoft, but officially he called in sick. They didn’t have anyone in the bullpen that could fill a lead spot, so they filled my spot instead and gave me this big chance to prove myself. I was not going to let some twerp that showed up dressed as a warlock last week blow it for me.Robin Lemkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12254896327174187893noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-53777413182746740872009-06-08T19:28:46.871-05:002009-06-08T19:28:46.871-05:00Very cool! Whether the intro to my fantasy is edit...Very cool! Whether the intro to my fantasy is edited or not, I look forward to reading what you edit on the other submissions an why. Thanks for the opportunity! <br /><br />Nkarra found herself surrounded by a blanket of light brighter than anything she’d ever seen before. Cleaner and purer than the whitest white. Its brilliance should have been painful, but it wasn’t. In fact, the light held such peace that Nkarra instantly relaxed, content to simply be. A feeling of comfort wrapped itself around her like a mother holding a child. <br /><br />Was she dead?<br /><br />The thought should have terrified her, but it didn’t. Here in the light, death seemed just another step in life. Nothing to get worked up over.<br /><br />An icy flow coursed through her arms. Her skin buzzed as if an electric current ran through her body. The sensations tugged at some distant thought, a dream long forgotten. Nkarra’s mind sharpened. If she were dead, why did she still feel a body? The peace and calm of the light no longer dulled her thoughts. She tried to raise her arm, but her body didn’t respond. Straining, she focused on moving her legs.Christahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12396063705477919654noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-20850147120553292082009-06-08T18:18:52.365-05:002009-06-08T18:18:52.365-05:00How fun! I have posted an excerpt that I wrote tod...<i>How fun! I have posted an excerpt that I wrote today which I am unhappy with. That should give you plenty of opportunity!</i><br /><br />Tyrae left the kitchens, nibbling the oatcake that the girl had pressed into his hand, and made his way directly to his mother’s quarters.<br /><br />She was sitting in the corner on a large rock, beaten smooth by the wind and waves, with a small hollow just the right size for her thin hips. Ceanntighern had found it on the rocky beach of one of the far islands and immediately proclaimed it the perfect gift for his queen. It took over a dozen men to bring back to the Sithein and when she saw it, she declared that it was the perfect chair, declining even the thinnest pillow. A thick double layer of wool was wrapped around her waist and then pulled around the back and over her shoulder to tuck in at her waist. She claimed it was to ward off the cold damp of the [underground] Sithein but Tyrae suspected it was to cushion herself from the hard stone of her "perfect" seat.Sylviahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05925593802209715440noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-54828496794029874532009-06-08T17:53:46.277-05:002009-06-08T17:53:46.277-05:00Okay, I'm game. This is from my opening.
The...Okay, I'm game. This is from my opening.<br /><br />The wind shifted over the playground, blowing magic across the assassin's senses. Delicate, like a perfume. But magic wasn't supposed to be here, and he wasn't supposed to be able to sense it.<br /><br />Anton Keymas slipped out of his black limousine, moving with a dancer's grace. He could be mistaken, but his first thought was that the magic had an immortal chaser. But just as he turned in the direction the wind was coming from, the magic vanished.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-51810406231919655412009-06-08T17:12:37.650-05:002009-06-08T17:12:37.650-05:00Hey
Would be great if you could have a look at my...Hey<br /><br />Would be great if you could have a look at my writing. Thanks in advance. This is the opening to my story:<br /><br />Adrian Deep hated being planetside, but you couldn’t fly the fringe without cargo.<br />The barkeep slid the unbranded beer forward. “Enjoy.”<br />The beer looked black. Bland and bitter, but cold and wet. He took another sip and studied the patrons of the port tavern. Men sung out of tune to a scratchy three-dee unit. Laughter roared from the rear booths. A game of poker broke into a fight, and just as quickly died down.<br />Deep grimaced. People. Jobs would be so much easier if he didn’t have to actually meet clients.John Harpernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-42015537212653631392009-06-08T15:36:47.064-05:002009-06-08T15:36:47.064-05:00You gals helped me so much with my log line, maybe...You gals helped me so much with my log line, maybe you can help me here. It's my first attempt in deep third. I'm hoping the character's voice came through. She's an artist and her voice is very visually oriented.<br /><br />This isn't the opening, but middle of chapter 2.<br /><br />set up: she's looking at her reflection in the mirror and she is covered in blood, but only in the reflection<br /><br /><br />It dripped from her hair, weighing it down until it resembled a weeping willow. There was a jagged crimson line separating her head from her body. Blood trickled down from it forming red rivulets that merged with the innumerable cuts marring the porcelain perfection of her body. Some were long thick gashes created by hands hyped on the adrenaline of battle. Some where thin straight lines crafted with surgical precision. Some were symbols whose meanings had long since been lost.Jeanne Ryanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16871446109563078108noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-32133230655706325992009-06-08T14:56:07.990-05:002009-06-08T14:56:07.990-05:00I'll definitely play this game! It's a ta...I'll definitely play this game! It's a tad over two paragraphs from my current WIP, but they're very short. I've line-edited them to death, so any help is appreciated:<br /><br />Lucian listened for the noise that had awakened him. Nothing but silence penetrated his sister’s house. The blazing hearth fire saturated the room with heat, but Catarina forbade the opening of windows. His twin was always cold.<br /><br />He sat on the edge of his bed and pushed his hands through his heavy black hair. His palms were wet with sweat. The seconds ticked into minutes, but Lucian remained still.<br /><br />Listening.<br /><br />A man laughed too loudly with a high, thin note of hysteria edging his mirth; the sound gave Lucian goose bumps.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-48919320528664716422009-06-08T14:26:02.017-05:002009-06-08T14:26:02.017-05:00Here are the first 2 paragraphs of my WIP. Thanks ...Here are the first 2 paragraphs of my WIP. Thanks for doing this!<br /><br />Beulah buttoned her spring jacket and clutched her lunch bag in her hand as she surveyed the schoolyard. Both Effie and Nell and were absent and Minnie was inside working on math. Beulah hoped that she would see someone sitting by herself, but all the other girls had tight knots of friends gathered around them. The largest group gathered around Winifred Waldfogel, and even some of the boys stood close by her.<br /><br />Beulah sighed and started towards an empty bench. It wasn’t fair that Winifred was pretty and popular. Beulah watched Winifred tilt her face back to the sky and laugh. The sun made her black curls shine.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-4969688326446026172009-06-08T14:14:00.322-05:002009-06-08T14:14:00.322-05:00Here's mine! It's actually the opening to ...Here's mine! It's actually the opening to the story and I just haven't been able to make it pop. I think part of it is too-heavy description. Grrr. (oops - first try had piss-poor formatting... here's a fix.)<br /><br /><br />The old man had been whispering to Cammie all day. He’d started at dawn. The field, illuminated by the frosted gold of the sun’s rising, was just becoming visible at her fingertips when she felt a slow hum building. It was like crickets singing, so familiar she barely noticed – and she certainly didn’t say anything. After all, this was the first spring Cammie was old enough to help with the planting, and she was doing her best to seem grown-up. Mother always said to stop making things up, to stop being so childish, and she hated it when Cammie talked about the sounds she heard. So Cammie ignored the lazy song in the back of her skull and half-walked, half-bounced, tossing fistful of seeds that disappeared in the dusky morning. She tried her hardest to throw them just like her Mother, who produced such a pretty fan-shape with each casual toss. But the hum became a buzz and the buzz a whine, and then he was there, his breath against her ear and his words only half heard, as though a wind caught at his whispers and pulled them away.<br /><br />There had always been whispers, of course. The villagers had whispered all her life about Mother’s illness, about Cammie’s weak name with no good rhythm to it, about a dozen things Cammie didn’t think she was supposed to hear. But those were simple whispers. There had been others.<br />Whispers that weren’t there. Whispers nobody heard. Whispers like his.Splatterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02392072296765949345noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-61261218732082161772009-06-08T14:10:58.455-05:002009-06-08T14:10:58.455-05:00This comment has been removed by the author.Splatterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02392072296765949345noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-32939173984848982982009-06-08T13:48:22.272-05:002009-06-08T13:48:22.272-05:00I'm looking forward to the editing results for...I'm looking forward to the editing results for everything that's been offered in the comments. Of course, I'm hopeful that mine will be included in the editing as well. This should be educational and interesting regardless.<br /><br /><br />The first paragraphs of my WIP:<br /><br />I've found that when you're a mercenary people assume it's another word for assassin. Don't get me wrong, I've killed people -- lots of people. It's what I'm trained to do. However, if I kill there's a reason for it. I don't kill just for the hell of it and I never kill just because someone wants another person out of their way.<br /><br />"I was told that Xyra Lunastar, is suppose to be one of the best hired blades around," said the human as he leaned forward in the solitary chair that I keep across from my desk. Normally I tell people to just use my first name, I don't do formalities as a rule and I dislike people saying my last name out loud. However, I didn't like this human, so I didn't bother correcting him.<br /><br />From the moment the man had walked into my place his very demeanor screamed trouble with a capital T. He was attractive enough, for a human, with long, silky black hair pulled back into a ponytail, dark skin that was a natural part of his heritage rather than because of the elements and a smile that could drop a woman's under things at a hundred paces. Not that I would be affected by any man. Forget the fact that I'm an elf and don't give humans the vaguest thought when it comes to my baser instincts. I don't let men, of any race, affect me to the point where I can't function. If I did, I'd be dead about twenty times over. Besides, underneath all those good looks something was off about this human, something black and twisted was at his core. I just had this feeling.Heidihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18030304565924815326noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-29705649358500384632009-06-08T13:24:01.330-05:002009-06-08T13:24:01.330-05:00The introduction to a WIP:
The killer strode purp...The introduction to a WIP:<br /><br />The killer strode purposefully toward the President, knife raised high.<br /><br />The President remained unaware, staring out the window into the oppressively hot DC night. His back was exposed, unprotected. My sister and I were immobile, too startled to react. I tried to shout a warning, at least give the President a chance, but the words were stuck in my throat. <br /><br />How did it come down to this, two kids trying to prevent this murder – a century and a half before their own time?<br /><br />Carin was between the assassin and his goal. He pushed her roughly out of the way with his left hand. She grunted as she spun around.<br /><br />I saw her go down, saw the President still lost in thought, and before I could think about it, I was on the move. I jumped up on the President’s enormous bed, took two bouncing steps across it, and threw myself at the assassin. I grabbed him about the neck and upraised arm.<br /><br />He glared ferociously at me and pushed me roughly back onto the bed.<br /><br />The President had heard the commotion behind him, and he turned back from the window. Even in the dim candlelight, his famous profile was unmistakable – the beard, the height, the gangly arms, everything but the stovepipe hat.<br /><br />The man aimed his knife at President Lincoln’s neck.Steven Brantnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6824896765631412903.post-26731374264428021252009-06-08T11:09:48.847-05:002009-06-08T11:09:48.847-05:00Here's a really bad paragraph for ya!
A bulge...Here's a really bad paragraph for ya!<br /><br />A bulge of earth in the distance raced towards her at jet speed. As it passed, the ground ripped upwards, throwing Dawn into the air, almost 15 meters high. The earth threw off the top layers of soil, flinging buried pipes and wires as well as huge chunks of asphalt and concrete into the air. Dawn sailed over the soil, reminded of documentaries where tons of dynamite blew away a wall of material. The earth exploded in every direction. Dawn crashed onto a soft pile of debris and ducked from rain of high-flung rocks and bricks. A couple blocks away, Charlotte’s jewel, the HLSCO HQ building, the huge elegant structure almost a kilometer high, crumpled into itself, imploding in a huge cloud of dust and noise. Dawn spotted her own apartment complex, presumably with her Aunt Rose inside, settling down to the ground in a plume of debris.Andrew Rosenberghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09215333688753781447noreply@blogger.com