Send it. I've got my MA specializing in med lit.
eringriggs at hotmail dot com
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Send it. I've got my MA specializing in med lit.
eringriggs at hotmail dot com
Thanks, Erin! Insent.
And...backflung.
Deb, insent
WOOT! Got it, erika. I know the major thing I'm doing this weekend.
Connie, you know, I thought about losing those last two lines, but decided that if she didn't say it out loud, she didn't get a boyfriend (since it was her journey to admit). And I really wanted her to get him. Such is the internal life of people limited to 100 characters.
Thanks, you guys, for the compliments.
Here's another:
Still Waters
"You did? Really?"
"Honest to god."
"You weren't backed up against a dryer, or anything?"
"Nothing. I swear. Just kissing."
"Dude. Where were his hands? I mean..."
"Just kissing! His hands were on my face, in my hair, on my back. No further than first base."
"I didn't know that happened in real life!"
"Trust me. It's not some porn urban legend."
"So ... you gonna see him again?"
"What do you think?"
"Well, I was just wondering if I could try kissing him."
"Get your own, girlie."
"How? It's not like you can tell by looking."
HA! Love that, ita.
But fix a typo, please? "real ife"?
Oops -- thanks!
"porn urban legend," hee.
drabble
Young, handsome, unmarried preacher. The girls of the district perked up and went into hunt mode. You could get hurt in the bathroom before youth meetings with all the primping going on. They sighed when Rev. David played piano, asked earnest questions about the sermons, and volunteered for committees.
The whispers were amazed and disbelieving when news went out that he and I had disappeared from the annual zoo trip to eat pizza and play pinball in his old neighborhood.
It's always the quiet ones.