Dude, I love just reading it aloud, its rhythms and rhymes.

Dude, I love just reading it aloud, its rhythms and rhymes.

I know! It was definitely read aloud when we did it in high school. Hearing it now, the rhythm sometimes reminds me of "The Lusty Month of May."

I've never read that poem before. It's incredible. Also, "tintinabulation". Must find a way to use that word in conversation today.

Anyway, here's my little thing for this week's challenge:

Looking down

She was half asleep, her parka hood pulled up, hands tucked into her sleeves, the drone of the propellers a distant murmur. Someone poked her in the back. She lifted her head and turned to the boy behind her, pushing her hood back with one hand. He looked up at her and grinned, pointing down. Behind him, the other passengers had gathered to stare out the windows, pointing, murmuring.

She adjusted her hood further back and glanced down. Movement on the white plain, brown and tan rushing below them. The caribou galloped across the frozen lake, silent from on high. She wondered what their hooves would sound like on snow-covered ice.

I have a 1200 word essay that needs some beta love. Anyone have time or interest for feedback?

Question I have aside from the usual "does it flow? is it funny? is it clear?" is "Is it interesting? Does it capture the surreal ridiculousness of the incident? Does it give a clear picture of my "status" within the fandom?"

This one builds off of other essays in which I describe the Players in this little pond, and I'll need it to build another concept. If that makes any sense.

I'll read it if you want, Allyson. Profile address works. My perspective would be "that guy who still doesn't understand it all."

I can beta. I'm about to eat dinner and watch What's Up, Tiger Lily? though, so I won't get to it for a couple hours, if that's okay. And I definitely enjoy a little surreal ridiculousness, especially when it's in the real world, so I'll tell you if that works or not.

Me Please, Allyson.

Looking Down #1

His feet are tired, and his belly grumbles emptily. It's the waiting that's hard, all of them gathered here in a sort of hallowed silence. He shifts restlessly from one foot to the other, the yellow talons relaxing and reclasping the rough bark of the tree. His mate mantles, her wings spreading briefly to resettle her glossy black feathers. The rest of their flock is restless as well, one or two snaking out a bald head on a wrinkled red neck to better peer at the animal on the ground below, each thinking the same thing: "Is it dead yet?"

Looking Down #2

The woman wears sandals and capri pants, the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Beside her is a boy, about eight, and on her hip is a little girl in a pink sundress. On either side stand two men with hard hats.Their truck is nearby, the ladders and tools on it useless at the moment. A rescue truck is here, too, its light revolving mindlessly, and a paramedic crouches above the body of his partner, who is at full stretch on the ground, his head disappearing into the uncapped manhole.

From below there comes a frightened, faraway echo: "Miaouw?"

insent beverly, and thanks!

Back to you, Allyson. Hee!

He really and truly called to ask if I could find a good home for Finn, Marti's dog (yes, how Riley got his last name). I think it all worked itself out, in the end.

Expecting a call any day now to find a home for Petrie's fish, if he has any.