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The first lines are shamelessly stolen from a poem, with a clause missing. Bonus points if you can place the poem. Same rules. Deadline next Monday, the 28th.
Ready.
Set.
He's waiting for nothing, not even his ship to come in. He's exercising his right of free speech in the morning air, a free man, six feet above the shallow earth in a clean shirt silent in summer on a rented porch.
April 21 2003, 17:22:45 UTC 9 years ago
like is that
*write* for 15 minutes? does that include beta and going back over it about a million times?April 21 2003, 18:46:27 UTC 9 years ago
Re: like is that
Just writing time. Think about it beforehand as long as you want to. I'm not sure about beta. I do'nt usually beta things this short. So probably not. Just think, then write. That's the exercise *g*.April 21 2003, 18:46:20 UTC 9 years ago
April 21 2003, 19:35:46 UTC 9 years ago
No it isn't....
Or if you really think it is, post it to the mailing list, or send it to me and I will post it to the mailing list... or the website, or pretty much all of the above.Howling...
S
April 21 2003, 19:38:13 UTC 9 years ago
Re: No it isn't....
LJ wouldn't let me post it, said I had to shorten it.hang on, *finds your email address*
Also.. disclaimer.. this is about the lamest thing I ever wrote, I never wrote fiction before. Ever.
April 21 2003, 22:01:18 UTC 9 years ago
Re:
Email it to me and I'll post it for you. No way is it too long.April 21 2003, 19:54:13 UTC 9 years ago
Ooh, ooh. I know this one.
Philip Levine, I believe?It's called "My Neighbour," or "Take my Neighbour," or something like that...
And I know who it sounds like, I do.
The light bulb went on.
S
April 21 2003, 22:01:42 UTC 9 years ago
Re: Ooh, ooh. I know this one.
Yes! What do you want as your prize?April 21 2003, 23:13:56 UTC 9 years ago
Re: Ooh, ooh. I know this one.
That's really easy. More Victor...S
April 22 2003, 06:16:16 UTC 9 years ago
Bad Company Always Goes Away.
He's waiting for nothing, not even his ship to come in. He's exercising his right of free speech in the morning air, a free man, six feet above the shallow earth in a clean shirt silent in summer on a rented porch.There had been no grand jury, no formal, civil proceedings to investigate the imbroglio that had claimed Margaret and Vic.
Now that they were dead, he felt comfortable calling them by their first names, though in life they had barely registered his existence. Despite the fact that as her secretary he had made things happen, and after her death he carried a certain amount of culpability.
But, the Company had declared him clean, no slimy trails left by her dying fingers tracked onto his record. The imprints she left were inside him, the residue of her substantial talents there because he had watched and learned from the master of perfidy.
Jake looked out over the railing of the beach house, the clear Bahamian water reflecting the sapphire skies, the trade winds ruffling his long hair out of place. He tipped his head back, and let the sun warm his face.
Tomorrow, Agent Jacob Donner would be ready to return to the States and take up the game, but for today he was content to soak in the sun, alive and free.