039 coulda shoulda woulda didn't
Meme time: Post a sentence/paragraph/page of something you have started writing (a fic, a poem, a story, an article) and never finished or published anywhere. Repeat x10.
1. [Narrative poetry-fail] Titian-haired and gravid, she sways slightly,
The scarred piano-man's hands caressing and abusing ivory keys
As a song of no creature known to child or man soars gently.
2. [No idea what I was writing. It's in my notebook though] "Don't worry about it," he said as he lifted a burlap sack over his shoulder, his other hand wrapping around the handle of a cracked leather doctor's bag.
"I don't worry," the woman replied with a sharp note in her voice, the words carrying the familiar treble of a person compressing themselves very deliberately for the sake of patience. Her eyes, which were blue like the stones at the bottom of a chemical wash, flashed slightly. "But you do, and you are, so you're just a damned hypocrite." There went that so tenuously-held patience.
3. [RPF. This is the first line and the least embarrassing.] “Just because you can get away with acting like a dick doesn’t mean you should.”
4. [Historical fiction-fail] We had already lost many, steep losses having cut us recently in one of many battles fought for Virginia. Now we headed northward, advancing along the Valley Pike. Sunlight filtered through the dense trees, creating shadows on the roadside. The Valley is nothing like anything I’d ever seen in Texas, or anywhere else. Some places in Shenandoah have been razed by the Northerners, but here is a picture of serenity, the picture of a world continuing on while the people in it struggle not to fall apart.
Jack and I rode at the head of the battalion, knowing full well that the men behind us were not near battle-ready. My sense was that it was more being weary of the road than anything else, but pausing before nightfall was hardly an option.
5. [Twilight fic! Actually not bad, and much longer, but um. I remembered that I have dignity.] “Esme?” Carlisle spoke to her as he crossed the room to shut the window, though she had probably known he was present since he arrived in the house. Esme turned her head to the side and smiled faintly, though she neither spoke nor opened her eyes. “Did you come in through the window?” Carlisle’s voice held slight amusement as he posed his rhetorical question, ready to be patient with Esme if some flight of fancy had struck her, such as a vendetta against doors. Edward’s volatile first years as a vampire were fresher in Carlisle’s mind than his own, but even so, Carlisle had made the deduction that each experience was different. “Why didn’t you use the door?” Carlisle was still smiling, and it came through in his voice, a doctor’s trick that comforted antsy young children and distrustful geriatrics alike.
There was a pause, during which Carlisle waited for Esme’s answer. “I wanted to come in through the window like the sun,” Esme said with a wistful smile, looking up at the ceiling before shutting her eyes again. There was another pause, and then, “… And I believe I may have lost my key,” she said delicately.
6. [Steampunk-epic fail! Will try again later.] Sam was dark-featured and handsome. He had bronze-colored hair that flew everywhere in sporadically-occurring tufts, and deep blue eyes. He also had a left foot that turned in at a strange angle, granting him a painful-looking limp that belied his age of only twenty-five. It made him hunch his shoulders, but he still stood at six feet, maybe more. He was, in many ways, completely beautiful- the son of kings, a prince who would one day rule his own kingdom.
7. [I plan to finish this one. I enjoy describing the characters.] Antioch was perhaps ten years older than his companion, but the number seemed closer to twenty. He carried himself like someone determined to display his seniority in his face and physical presentation. His expressions always hung low, pinned to him only by the thumbtacks of his central features; dark eyes, bowed nose, and cracked lips held his visage together by perhaps sheer force of will. Antioch’s body was put together in a supremely lanky fashion, his long and lean limbs lending him the look of a point-faced racing hound.
8. [Uhhh. Beginning-fail?] Some people were morning people, whereas Tabby, if encountered anytime before nine in the morning, could make no promises that any exchange would not end in attempts at disembowelment. She was much better at existing in the hours best described as the ‘ass-end’ of days, when people used ‘tomorrow’ and ‘today’ interchangeably because both terms were basically correct.
9. [Ugh, word-limit fail. D:] If she were not so dedicated to keeping up her strong exterior, she would be close to death. He has seen it before; women broken inside by abuse and loss- it is more common than the world would like to think- but Pavel had always secretly imagined that Sarah would not be one of those women.
A light but cold wind blew through as they stood in silence, Sarah mourning her loss and Pavel watching her. After a time that seemed longer than it was, Sarah seemed to notice how the funeral party had mostly dissipated and how only her mother and uncle remained waiting by the black car, their accusing eyes on Pavel. "Please leave," Sarah said so quietly, it might have gone unheard if Pavel had not had the sharp ears of a career criminal.
10. [Pre-smut! W00t, everyone's favorite.] "Leadership is the strength and courage to speak your honest mind! Not recite pablum." Her jaw was set, and her eyes ranged on furious. His were equally granite, neither budging an inch as he wore down her will with pure silence and stoicism. Then a moment came, and he must have known something about her that she did not, because when he reached out and tilted her face so he could kiss her, she did not resist.
Go me! This is 65% original (one used to be fic, and I changed it, hence the odd number), and mostly very, very new! The oldest ones are 5 and 9, though 9 is the one that was movie!fic and I changed it. 9 is also technically finished, it's just... it's short and therefore I haven't been hurrying to show it to people. Blah!
I've been so productive. Sorta. IF ANY OF THESE EVER GOT FINISHED, I WOULD BE SO PRODUCTIVE. *shot*
1. [Narrative poetry-fail] Titian-haired and gravid, she sways slightly,
The scarred piano-man's hands caressing and abusing ivory keys
As a song of no creature known to child or man soars gently.
2. [No idea what I was writing. It's in my notebook though] "Don't worry about it," he said as he lifted a burlap sack over his shoulder, his other hand wrapping around the handle of a cracked leather doctor's bag.
"I don't worry," the woman replied with a sharp note in her voice, the words carrying the familiar treble of a person compressing themselves very deliberately for the sake of patience. Her eyes, which were blue like the stones at the bottom of a chemical wash, flashed slightly. "But you do, and you are, so you're just a damned hypocrite." There went that so tenuously-held patience.
3. [RPF. This is the first line and the least embarrassing.] “Just because you can get away with acting like a dick doesn’t mean you should.”
4. [Historical fiction-fail] We had already lost many, steep losses having cut us recently in one of many battles fought for Virginia. Now we headed northward, advancing along the Valley Pike. Sunlight filtered through the dense trees, creating shadows on the roadside. The Valley is nothing like anything I’d ever seen in Texas, or anywhere else. Some places in Shenandoah have been razed by the Northerners, but here is a picture of serenity, the picture of a world continuing on while the people in it struggle not to fall apart.
Jack and I rode at the head of the battalion, knowing full well that the men behind us were not near battle-ready. My sense was that it was more being weary of the road than anything else, but pausing before nightfall was hardly an option.
5. [Twilight fic! Actually not bad, and much longer, but um. I remembered that I have dignity.] “Esme?” Carlisle spoke to her as he crossed the room to shut the window, though she had probably known he was present since he arrived in the house. Esme turned her head to the side and smiled faintly, though she neither spoke nor opened her eyes. “Did you come in through the window?” Carlisle’s voice held slight amusement as he posed his rhetorical question, ready to be patient with Esme if some flight of fancy had struck her, such as a vendetta against doors. Edward’s volatile first years as a vampire were fresher in Carlisle’s mind than his own, but even so, Carlisle had made the deduction that each experience was different. “Why didn’t you use the door?” Carlisle was still smiling, and it came through in his voice, a doctor’s trick that comforted antsy young children and distrustful geriatrics alike.
There was a pause, during which Carlisle waited for Esme’s answer. “I wanted to come in through the window like the sun,” Esme said with a wistful smile, looking up at the ceiling before shutting her eyes again. There was another pause, and then, “… And I believe I may have lost my key,” she said delicately.
6. [Steampunk-epic fail! Will try again later.] Sam was dark-featured and handsome. He had bronze-colored hair that flew everywhere in sporadically-occurring tufts, and deep blue eyes. He also had a left foot that turned in at a strange angle, granting him a painful-looking limp that belied his age of only twenty-five. It made him hunch his shoulders, but he still stood at six feet, maybe more. He was, in many ways, completely beautiful- the son of kings, a prince who would one day rule his own kingdom.
7. [I plan to finish this one. I enjoy describing the characters.] Antioch was perhaps ten years older than his companion, but the number seemed closer to twenty. He carried himself like someone determined to display his seniority in his face and physical presentation. His expressions always hung low, pinned to him only by the thumbtacks of his central features; dark eyes, bowed nose, and cracked lips held his visage together by perhaps sheer force of will. Antioch’s body was put together in a supremely lanky fashion, his long and lean limbs lending him the look of a point-faced racing hound.
8. [Uhhh. Beginning-fail?] Some people were morning people, whereas Tabby, if encountered anytime before nine in the morning, could make no promises that any exchange would not end in attempts at disembowelment. She was much better at existing in the hours best described as the ‘ass-end’ of days, when people used ‘tomorrow’ and ‘today’ interchangeably because both terms were basically correct.
9. [Ugh, word-limit fail. D:] If she were not so dedicated to keeping up her strong exterior, she would be close to death. He has seen it before; women broken inside by abuse and loss- it is more common than the world would like to think- but Pavel had always secretly imagined that Sarah would not be one of those women.
A light but cold wind blew through as they stood in silence, Sarah mourning her loss and Pavel watching her. After a time that seemed longer than it was, Sarah seemed to notice how the funeral party had mostly dissipated and how only her mother and uncle remained waiting by the black car, their accusing eyes on Pavel. "Please leave," Sarah said so quietly, it might have gone unheard if Pavel had not had the sharp ears of a career criminal.
10. [Pre-smut! W00t, everyone's favorite.] "Leadership is the strength and courage to speak your honest mind! Not recite pablum." Her jaw was set, and her eyes ranged on furious. His were equally granite, neither budging an inch as he wore down her will with pure silence and stoicism. Then a moment came, and he must have known something about her that she did not, because when he reached out and tilted her face so he could kiss her, she did not resist.
Go me! This is 65% original (one used to be fic, and I changed it, hence the odd number), and mostly very, very new! The oldest ones are 5 and 9, though 9 is the one that was movie!fic and I changed it. 9 is also technically finished, it's just... it's short and therefore I haven't been hurrying to show it to people. Blah!
I've been so productive. Sorta. IF ANY OF THESE EVER GOT FINISHED, I WOULD BE SO PRODUCTIVE. *shot*