New drabble topic!
Challenge #119 (advertising) is now closed.
Challenge #120 is foreign languages.
As always, if you have any suggestions for future drabble topics, please let me know!
I'm supposed to deliver you to the Master now. There's this whole deal where I get to be immortal. Are you cool with that?
Xander ,'Lessons'
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.
Steph L. - Aug 14, 2006 6:10:32 pm PDT #8071 of 10001
I look more rad than Lutheranism
Gus - Aug 14, 2006 6:39:59 pm PDT #8072 of 10001
Bag the crypto. Say what is on your mind.
Challenge #120 is foreign languages.
She spoke to me. There were sounds. I could only watch her lips.
Her teeth appeared, and disappeared, nipping down on a consonant. The letter 'L' made her philtrum twist in a way that was ... unbearable. The letter 'K' brought the lines of her neck into a perfect symmetry.
She wet her lips at the end of a sentence. Drew a breath, drilled her eyes into mine.
Smiled.
Continued.
I lost all audio. She hooked a stray hair behind her ear.
She could have been asking a question. All I could see was her hand, her hair, her ear.
Her lips.
deborah grabien - Aug 14, 2006 6:44:28 pm PDT #8073 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Gus, MAJORLY cool drabble.
But the synopsis hasn't got to my email yet.
Gus - Aug 14, 2006 6:56:14 pm PDT #8074 of 10001
Bag the crypto. Say what is on your mind.
Yup. It is sitting in my "returned" box, 'cuz I fat-fingered the address. Here she goes...
deborah grabien - Aug 14, 2006 10:47:15 pm PDT #8075 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Nope. No luck, Gus - still not in my email box, and it isn't in my spam filter folder, either. It just isn't here, period.
deborah grabien - Aug 15, 2006 7:04:45 am PDT #8076 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Missionaries
"Good morning."
They stand on my doorstep, brimming with what some people would call enthusiasm. But I'm seeing zeal, which isn't so nice. Zeal has a habit of hardening into something uglier.
"...here to spread the Word...."
Guys, diseases are spread. Words are shared.
"...tell you about God."
Their combined ages don't add up to mine. Do they realise how thoughtless they're being, how insulting? No: they're from a mission. They're on a mission.
I tell them no thanks, and send them on their way. Communication is so far away from us, they might as well be speaking in tongues.
Gus - Aug 16, 2006 1:19:12 pm PDT #8077 of 10001
Bag the crypto. Say what is on your mind.
I blame Homeland Security.
Guys, diseases are spread. Words are shared.
Bang on, DG!
Makes me want to re-wire my doorbell so that whoever pushes it gets a message from God.
erikaj - Aug 16, 2006 1:22:34 pm PDT #8078 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
My God sounds like Andre Braugher, mostly. I wouldn't mind if He talked to me, but so far? Not directly.
deborah grabien - Aug 18, 2006 3:51:09 pm PDT #8079 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
OK, apropos for all writers (I'm betting Robin, if she reads this, either already knows the quote or will cackle loudly enough for me to hear at the other end of the state). Sent by my husband:
"I handed in a script last year and the studio didn't change one word. The word they didn't change was on page 87."-- Steve Martin
deborah grabien - Aug 19, 2006 10:11:29 am PDT #8080 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Wordless
Be quiet.
Do you think you can comfort me?
Do you think you can offer speech
phrases carefully crafted over five thousand years
words, no more than shorthand for
I don't know what to say?
Be quiet.
Today it seems all the world is drowning
in tears, in blood, in loss
Loved ones, enemies, strangers, toppling
front to back
like dominos subjected to a series of small passionate shocks.
Spirits gone, hearts cracking along internal bubbles of emptiness
today, tomorrow, riding the wake of a wind
that is darkness and loneliness.
Comfort lies in falling into memory, and into hope.
So keep your shorthand; I don't understand it anyway.