An Experiment in Language
I'm using a slightly different and-I hope-superior style of writing for my newest short story, "Providence." Here's an excerpt. What do you think?
Every morning Sheridan carried herself to Our Lady of Fatima, where she prepared breakfast for the nuns that lived there. Mother Bridgett was very gracious, and every morning she would softly thank Sheridan for her delicious eggs and bacon and mashed potatoes lightly seasoned. Every afternoon she would ply at sweeping and scrubbing and straightening the parts of the convent where she was permitted to go. Every evening she would attend service, and after she would make her way back to her cramped closet, separated from the ground by one hundred eight steep steps begrimed and cracked under the weight of a hundred eight times as many dispassionate feet.
Every morning Sheridan carried herself to Our Lady of Fatima, where she prepared breakfast for the nuns that lived there. Mother Bridgett was very gracious, and every morning she would softly thank Sheridan for her delicious eggs and bacon and mashed potatoes lightly seasoned. Every afternoon she would ply at sweeping and scrubbing and straightening the parts of the convent where she was permitted to go. Every evening she would attend service, and after she would make her way back to her cramped closet, separated from the ground by one hundred eight steep steps begrimed and cracked under the weight of a hundred eight times as many dispassionate feet.