This topic got really ouchy, really fast. Amazing stuff.
And the thing is, I like my evil like I like my men: evil. You know, straight up, black hat, tied to the train tracks, soon my electro-ray will destroy metropolis BAD.
Buffy ,'Sleeper'
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.
Beverly - Mar 29, 2005 3:23:08 am PST #897 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
erikaj - Mar 29, 2005 4:29:19 am PST #898 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
As I wrote this, I thought it was too personal, but not compared to Deb's, so what the hell.
Heaven is the magic of your smile. That moment when I realize you understand, I don’t need to chop it up, make myself palatable to you(although I wouldn’t mind if you took a little taste, of course) I fight down the urge to go a little Sally Field every day You like me. You really like me!” but you like me best when I fake being tough, so I never say it. Not like that. If you ever gave it up, I bet it’d take a while because I’d giggle like a fool, reputation be damned.
Hell is simple, despite my bloody preoccupations. Hell is thinking of you, walking away, with somebody else.
deborah grabien - Mar 29, 2005 7:19:10 am PST #899 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Hell is thinking of you, walking away, with somebody else.
If there's enough hell-yes in the world for that one, I haven't found it.
Ouchy is the word.
deborah grabien - Mar 29, 2005 7:21:29 am PST #900 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Oh, and I was writing last night and forgot to post on Sail's and Chi's. But, yes indeed. Yes.
sj - Mar 29, 2005 7:56:29 am PST #901 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
Wow all of the drabbles this week are amazing. Here's mine:
There’s no hope in Hell, and there was no hope in that dorm room. I think I’d been locked in there, by myself, for a week when the cereal bars, my only source of food, ran out. By that time I no longer cared. Time is hard to keep track of when all you do is sleep and cry. Each ring of the phone wounded. I never answered it; I never let anyone know that depression had overtaken me.
Salvation came with a knock on the door: “Sarah, it’s your mother. I know something is wrong. Please open the door.”
deborah grabien - Mar 29, 2005 8:03:53 am PST #902 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Oh, sj. Damn.
Man, this is one hell of a topic.
sj - Mar 29, 2005 8:06:24 am PST #903 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
Thanks, Deb. I am amazed at how easy that was to write. It flowed right out. Are you maybe up for a game of literati? We haven't played in ages.
erikaj - Mar 29, 2005 8:12:17 am PST #904 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
"Stories that flow are a gift from God." A fellow Munch fan told me that, and we Munch women can't lie. Take the Fifth, yeah, but not lie. The saddest part about mine is it could have been written about any number of people/times. I've thought of another one, but it's dirty.
Pix - Mar 29, 2005 8:12:44 am PST #905 of 10001
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
Wow, sj.
sj - Mar 29, 2005 8:17:07 am PST #906 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
Kristin, your story about your Mom this morning sort of inspired me to write it.