He got a sympathetic nosebleed?
'Shindig'
The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
My blood is his.
Between reading backlogs of blood stories elsewhere and the nostalgia in Natter, some Gen Why drabble.
Bloodless
I learned the name Ryan White when I was in 4th grade. I never had a Blood Brother.
Under 400 troops died in the 2 military operations I remember before college. I didn’t know any of them.
I never saw my President get shot. I can explain at least 5 plausible theories on who killed JFK.
I was in Jr Hi during the 50th anniversary of Anne Frank’s death. I am so over WWII.
Most of the killing during my childhood was for royally stupid reasons. Forgive my incredulity of God, Nation, and Brother. It’s all rather academic to me.
Most of the killing during anyone's childhood is for royally stupid reasons, Debet. There are remarkably few non-stupid reasons for this ridiculous species of ours to shed each others' blood.
My daughter, age 26, refers to her generation as Generation Why Me. But she wept when George Harrison died.
Most of the killing during anyone's childhood is for royally stupid reasons, Debet. There are remarkably few non-stupid reasons for this ridiculous species of ours to shed each others' blood.
Yeah.
If I'd had another few dozen words, something about drugs and sneakers would have made it in there. I'm sure there's a better way to say it...something about not even having the pretense of...something.
Hubby-To-Be looks nauseous. "I thought blood didn't bother you," I say woozily.
"It does when it's mine."Connie, this is gorgeous.
Susan, I'm so happy for you! Yay!
Debet, that is a great piece. The Ryan White line sells it, right off.
Speaking of stupid reasons to kill people, everyone I know in London is okay.
edit: and erika, the police procedural lost its creator today; Evan Hunter died. Goodnight, Ed McBain....
Deb, I'm glad to hear your Londoners are okay. After I lined up my Bronzers, I shot to RozK's journal, and was so glad to see she'd posted.
I wondered about your peeps, Deb. Good to know.
She wants to pull her knees into her chest, but she's tried that before. She needs the cold tile against the small of her back and thighs. It's all that links her body to the outside world, the only thing other than the pain.
She matches her breath to the pain's rhythm and tries to slow her heart rate. Hopefully the painkillers will kick in before she runs out of cool floor in the bathroom.
"At least you're not pregnant, right?"
She doesn't look up. He'll pay for the flip tone. Just not right now. Maybe in a couple days.