Yes. It's the consonant sound, not the vowel letter, that determines the a/an. "an ewe" doesn't even look right to me. Okay, now it does, in comparison to "a ewe."

You write romances, and there are sheep involved. I'm a little concerned.

Well, only one sheep.

You write romances, and there are sheep involved. I'm a little concerned.

t thwaps P-C

Trust me, nothing romantic about the ewe. Or, the ewe's time for romance was a few months before--I've got a character faced with delivering a baby, thinking that if it were a cow or a ewe, he could manage, since he used to help out on his brother-in-law's farm.

Do you know how hard it is to write a "clueless people at a childbirth" scene without even once having anyone say something that sounds vaguely like "I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies"? Damn hard.

I've been trying hard to come up with something not about myself, for once. The first phrase and the last line came to me early, but I've been puzzling over the middle all week. I'm still not satisfied with it, but here it is anyway.

Fire drabble:

The last remaining lamp is a crude clay dish with a small puddle of oil and a simple wick, the fire at its tip the only light holding back the darkness that crowds around, hiding the corners of the room, pressing in, bringing with it cold and fear and despair.

The shadows on the walls are large and sharp and black, looming overhead, flickering on the ceiling, dancing in response to each movement, each breath, each shiver.

The wick starts to char as the last sip of oil is consumed. The flame wavers, it gutters, and then, finally, goes out.

I like it, dcp.

Myself, I've given up trying not to write about myself. This thread is all therapy, all the time, for me right now. And I like it that way.

She stares tightly ahead of her, at its flicker. It's easy not to look anywhere else - there isn't anything else to look at, just stretching darkness that resists her attempts to make peace with it. So she stares. The hard part is keeping her eyes open. They're dry, and her brain turns the flame's bounce on her retinas into pain. But it is better than the alternative. She may see this afterimage for the rest of her life.

Surely they're coming. It can't be much longer.

She just wants the rest of her life to last longer than the candle.

Very nice, ita. I like the afterimage image.

And now, in complete disregard of my above post...

transformation

It was sand, and now it drips, bulbous, from the glassblower's lips.

It was clay, and now it curves like a woman's neck, in the potter's fingers.

It was earth, and now it hardens to build endless spires, through the mason's arms.

It was wood, and now its scars are vines, envisioned in the etcher's eyes.

It was mineral, and now it rings with strength, beaten smooth under the blacksmith's hands.

It was life, and now it wafts like regret, blossoming from the artist's limbs.

Smoke rises from the funeral pyre. He, like all things, cannot remain unchanged by fire.

I don't want to restart the discussion or anything, but given our earlier talks of books we read when we were younger, I thought some of you might enjoy these excerpts from my sixth grade journal.

Oct. 16, 1992

My favorite thing about The Secret Garden is how the robin shows Mary where the key and the garden are because it seems so cool.

I was very eloquent back then.

Dec. 4, 1992

I really liked Dealing with Dragons because I love (Note: It’s actually underlined five times, with lines of decreasing length.) fantasy. I also liked Finders Keepers because it was funny and had riddles. The Magic Grandfather was good because I love (Note: Just one this time.) magic. I also enjoyed The Chronicles of Narnia because it was so fascinating, those creature and things. The Phantom Tollbooth was really funny. I love (Note: Four lines.) anything such as fantasy or magic or humorous kinds of books. I also like mysteries.

My critical faculties extended all the way to underlining.

Feb. 3, 1993

In Escape from Warsaw, I would like to be Jan because he is fond of animals and so am I. I don’t eat my friends either. He gets all that food. Still, I wouldn’t like to be an orphan. He was a stubborn kid, and I guess I am too. I finished the book and he is pretty cool, like when he captures Bistro the chimp. He’s uncool when he goes to jail. I like it when he- whoops, that’s ahead of where we are in the book. You’ll have to find out what his idea of a teasing name is.

I...identified with characters?

Apr. 28, 1993

If I could collect something, I would collect horror/fantasy books like R.L. Stine and Christopher Pike novels. Those books are easy to order. They are usually $3.25. Those books keep you on the edge of your seat (or whatever you are on). I also said fantasy, because I love fantasy. You can get those at bookstores, buy them through book orders, or have them given to you as presents. You can get those horror books like that too. I’d need to be rich to get them all, but I would hopefully have time to read them all. I like a reading alot, so I’d want too.

Right. You may now return to your regularly scheduled drabbling.

Awaiting new topic from Teppy, who I believe is a) not feeling well, and b) entertaining SA.

She should take a sick day, and make SA come up with the topic, in lieu of rent.