LOVE!!!
We can come by between classes. Usually I use that time to copy over my class notes with a system of different colored pens. But it's been pointed out to me that that's, you know...insane.
Willow ,'Showtime'
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.
Daisy Jane - Dec 05, 2006 5:33:05 pm PST #8693 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."
sarameg - Dec 05, 2006 5:35:52 pm PST #8694 of 10001
Thanks. Yours made me flash back to hs and realize the lots most familiar involved waiting for my brother, annoyed. Your version is much more evocative (edit: and very much so. Awesome.) It made me think outside that, and I ended up... at Target. Sheesh.
Amy - Dec 05, 2006 5:36:57 pm PST #8695 of 10001
Because books.
Wow, this is a great topic. Everyone's -- Deena, Liese, Daisy Jane -- is fabulous, but sarameg's really hit home.
::applauds::
Daisy Jane - Dec 05, 2006 5:37:23 pm PST #8696 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."
I'm usually in my driveway.
sarameg - Dec 05, 2006 5:39:11 pm PST #8697 of 10001
They've got us pegged, according to pledge drives....
Ginger - Dec 10, 2006 2:26:43 pm PST #8698 of 10001
"It didn't taste good. It tasted soooo horrible. It tasted like....a vodka martini." - Matilda
Parking Lot
The single security light left the parking lot with pools of shadow around the bins of cans, bottles and newspapers. "I should have done this earlier," I thought, jumping when a gust of wind set a stray can rattling across the empty parking lot. A Harley roared into the parking lot, and the burly driver, head to toe in black leather, drove the bike around and around me. As he stopped, I mentally measured the distance to my car. He held up a pizza box. "Where's the cardboard recycling?" I pointed. He tossed the box into the bin and was gone.
javachik - Dec 10, 2006 2:58:34 pm PST #8699 of 10001
Our wings are not tired.
Nice, Ginger.
Connie Neil - Dec 10, 2006 3:07:28 pm PST #8700 of 10001
brillig
Stranger in a Strange Land
The security guard paused in front of me. "You can't take your camera in."
He looked horrified when I looked straight back at him and said, "Well, fuck."
I crept along with the rest of the line, laughing behind my sunglasses at the black and the piercings and the plaid and the attempts to put short Utah haircuts up into inch-high mohawks. They waited for me to freak, then looked increasingly uneasy as I just smiled faintly.
I was in the same hundred-square-yard space as Billy Idol. As if I'd let the Warped Tour crowd intimidate me from that.
dcp - Dec 10, 2006 3:44:19 pm PST #8701 of 10001
The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know.
Drabble: parking lot
It was late, it was dark, it was spitting rain, and I had my head down as I trudged across the empty parking lot to the grocery store.
The pickup was going too fast as it turned in off the street.
I jumped, he swerved and locked up his brakes, but he was still doing about 15 mph when the corner of the bumper clipped my thigh and tossed me 20 feet.
I tucked and rolled and landed on my shoulders, then rolled twice more before I could stop.
Some perverse quirk made me ask him if he was okay.
Liese S. - Dec 10, 2006 4:45:21 pm PST #8702 of 10001
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."
sacrifice
I must have heard it, but I don't remember.
The wind blowing orange through the dorm lobby curtains.
Squealing tires, voices.
The cacophony of shouts, unhelpful.
Above it all, Alaska's voice over and over, "I can't have killed someone. I can't have."
But he did. Drunk, fighting with his girlfriend, leaving rubber on the parking lot.
The security guard stepped out to wave him down, see what was wrong, if he could help. Alaska ran him down.
I didn't go; Kathy held me back. I stood on the darkened porch, lost, while the man I called Grandpa bled to death.