And now I await next Monday.
You know, you're free to write something on this week's topic, if you like.
But you don't have to.
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
And now I await next Monday.
You know, you're free to write something on this week's topic, if you like.
But you don't have to.
We don't need no stinking badges.
erika beat me. entitlement queen.
Welcome, java!
Like Teppy said, you can drabble the topic anytime up till the next one is posted, if you want to. Or you can post other writing. We're easy.
Okay. This is something I'm working on about the day I buried my dog.
The weed-strewn cliff broke right beneath my toes and I peered down into the dancing white caps and thought, this is just right. I shuddered as the wind hit me again, icy fingers at my neck, strangling me. Three layers of clothes and yet the chill penetrated with a force that matched only the sharp pains in my heart.
I took a step back and eyed the landscape. Searocket, curly dock and sea fig dot the plateau, and shrubby willows offer nothing against the wind; they are beaten and worn. Another rush of wind and sand jags me in the eye and I curse. 20 feet from the cliff is about right. The coarse sand gives way to dirt, good to dig in.
You don't think I'd stop with the parking spaces, do you?
Also, you have to send me chocolate. (Or Graeter's....)
Not anymore...
You don't think I'd stop with the parking spaces, do you?
Of course not. They're mere tokens of your megalomania.
I just need a Pinky to run around fetching garden hoses and live chickens and such.
When Julia gets her working papers, I'll send her your way.