And, another one:
Night
The knife, a kissing edge of steel four inches long, rests in her hand. She's forgotten it.
The vampires circle, crouching, feral. The night is a blur of movement, yellow eyes with uncanny slitted pupils, curving fangs the colour of old bone, yellowed fingernails, the smell of mould and gravedirt.
For Faith, alive and insanely happy with the joy of impending killing, the knife is suddenly weighing her down. She throws it high and hard, burying it in a treetrunk. A vampire jumps, her foot connects. The vampire gurgles, goes down screaming.
You need no weapons when you are one.
I sort of wanted to do one that took a more indepth look at Faith, as a weapon without a conscience (for that short nasty period when that was where she lived, emotionally). But that would need rather more than 100 words.
Maybe not if they were Faith's words...Faith not being Metaphor Gal.
For some reason, first person POV isn't talking to me on that one; there's something about the subject that seems to want examination from an impartial eye.
X-post with Fan Fiction:
I don't know if this has been mentioned already, but there is an article about fan fiction and how it can help train a writers to write their own material in the November issue of Writer's Digest.
Wow, sj, that's bitchin'. I should get one and send it to a certain somebody with "Told you so!" written on it.Even if that does void my Magical Cripple non-pettiness contract.
We can't be petty? That's a problem. I am a very petty person.
Not if we are gonna teach people how to Live and Love and Feel, and such. But that's why I'm bad at it...well, that and being above the sins of the flesh...I pretty much suck at that full-time.
Ahem. I expect the two of you to Set An Example of Saintliness.
