I mean, let's say you did kill us. Or didn't. There could be torture. Whatever. But somehow you found the goods. What would your cut be?

Mal ,'Out Of Gas'


The Great Write Way, Act Three: Where's the gun?

A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.


Beverly - May 21, 2008 11:27:21 am PDT #167 of 6681
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

With James Burke! I loved that show. It really did open my eyes to the way seemingly small events can affect huge changes--the proverbial butterfly's wings. They rerun it on one of the Discovery channels every now and then. I wish they'd do more of them.


Lee - May 22, 2008 10:16:30 am PDT #168 of 6681
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.

Looks at lack of drabbles

Maybe small, medium, or large instead?


Wolfram - May 22, 2008 10:19:06 am PDT #169 of 6681
Visilurking

Sorry, meant to post this sooner.

Found

It was recessed in the sofa. In a "sun-don't-shine spot", her husband would say. She'd always been small up there, her "fun-ions", he'd call them. The label confirmed what she'd instantly known.

Her throat tightened painfully. She stumbled outside to take in the night air.

Two weeks with the kids in the country, so he could "gitter done" - that long-gestating project. With the lab partner she'd never met.

She cried for hours, falling asleep on his side of the bed.

In the morning, he was there. Back "from the lab", he claimed, in the wee hours.

She said nothing.

(ETA: changed "chest" to "throat" - Thanks Beverly!)


Lee - May 22, 2008 10:25:02 am PDT #170 of 6681
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.

Nice one, Wolfram.


Wolfram - May 22, 2008 10:26:59 am PDT #171 of 6681
Visilurking

Thanks. These are fun.


Ailleann - May 22, 2008 10:29:59 am PDT #172 of 6681
vanguard of the socialist Hollywood liberal homosexualist agenda

Completely off the cuff, and man is 100 words small today.

---

She adjusts the tablecloth, waits for a knock. Mr. Greaves is on his way, always here at half three like clockwork.

A quick glance in the mirror, final preparation. Her hair loose, a little kohl at the corners of her eyes. The Greek-like tunic isn’t terribly authentic, but no one notices. Maybe next she could try soothsaying. People like variety, after all.

Tap tap, and she schools her face to a droop-eyed look of languor before turning the knob. Greaves is waiting, anxious to “speak” with his wife. She feels a fleeting pang of guilt before she invites him in.


Lee - May 22, 2008 10:32:23 am PDT #173 of 6681
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.

Nice!

I was wondering if anyone would use that meaning.


Amy - May 22, 2008 10:33:52 am PDT #174 of 6681
Because books.

Hey! I was going to do a "medium" medium!

That's awesome, Ailleann. The tone is so perfect.


SailAweigh - May 22, 2008 10:37:56 am PDT #175 of 6681
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb

Beat me to it, too, Ailleann. Although I had one I thought might put a nice twist on it. We'll see if I take the time to actually put it down on paper to see if it works.


Ailleann - May 22, 2008 10:42:47 am PDT #176 of 6681
vanguard of the socialist Hollywood liberal homosexualist agenda

Go for it, Sail! You too Amy!