Giles ,'Conversations with Dead People'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
The Trip (noir)
His body lay on the side of the road. He had rolled a long way. I could see the ligature marks on his neck. Good looking guy, if a bit dorky. He had a look of glee on his face. The look of a masochist. He was dishelveled ; probably from being on the road for so long. The girl looking down at him was dry eyed and smug. The car behind her stuffed to the brim with boxes, the faint mewling of a cat.
“What happened?” I asked.
She looked up and growled, “He kept touching my leg.”
Hee, Aimee, that's great! I think no jury would convict her.
She looked up and growled, “He kept touching my leg.”
BWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
(BTW)
Just sent out full chapter 9 of new WIP to readers. The suspense aspect of this one is about to go through the ceiling, assuming I don't fuck it up.
and rises above the mere rhetoric and rant.
HEY! "Mere" rant?Maybe he never heard about the stilletos, and meant a ~mere~ rant?
I've got oodles of drabbles in my head and a bus to catch. Later.
HEY! "Mere" rant?
As has been pointed out already, your rants are ANYTHING but mere. They demand new literary classification. (:
Hee. That story is true-ish.
A Kiss is Still a Kiss (futuristic romance)
He crawled under the covers with me, already dressed for the day. I loved these stolen moments the most. While I liked our nights together making a world of skin and sex in the bed that was ours alone, the mornings were even better. Then, for a few minutes, I could take him away from his world that left me behind and bring him into the finite of lip on lip, cell on cell.
Our lips parted; he stepped onto the silver disc that held the gate. His form shimmered away and the world was too small to hold him anymore.
Genre: fairy tale
They had vowed to stay together, for always and forever. They never imagined it would be like this, forced into closeness within this hot, iron box. Instead of walking out of the woods hand in hand, brother and sister blend together in ash and smoke.
This is the ending that no one likes to talk about.
We prefer the happy endings. We take the heroine's survival as object proof that virtue, perseverance, and faith are always rewarded.
We don't want to hear that sometimes, despite breadcrumbs, pebbles, virtue, and faith, that Hansel and Gretel don't always escape the witch's oven.