We Create Our Own Hell
So, one of my recent but deeply held convictions is that if you went through Twilight, and replaced the words "Edward Cullen" with "Cecil Harvey", you would have a much better book. Let's see if that's true!
The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out agian. But Cecil Harvey's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me-- his face was absurdly handsome-- with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind.
I imagine at the beginning of the book, he's still a Dark Knight, explaining his somewhat antagonistic behavior.
His hair was dripping wet, disheveled-- even so he looked like he'd just finishing a commercial for hair gel. His dalzzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful.
"My name is Cecil Harvey," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week."
Cecil Harvey: hoisting the light and the dark!
In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Cecil's skin. I couldn't see his face, just his back as he walked away from me, leaving me in theblackness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, he never turned.
This is after he performs the "cover" command vs. a random encounter with a car. How romantic!
"You need to come with us to find the Sand Ruby," he explained. "My girlfriend's in trouble, and yours is already dead so it doesn't matter."
His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smoldering. I couldn't remember to breathe.
Really, now could I not include the next passage?
Cecil in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamons were mebedded in the surface. He lay perfectly still in th egrass, his scintillating arms bare. His glistening, pale lavender lds were shut, though of course he didn't sleep. A perfect statue, carved in some unknown stone, smooth like marble, glittering like crystal.
Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would disappear like a mirage, to beautiful to be real...hesitantly, I reached out one finger and stroked the back of his shimmering hand, where it lay within my reach. I marveled again at the perfect texture, satin smooth, cool as stone.
"You human instincts...," I began. He waitied. "Well, do you find me attractive, in that way, at all?"
He lauhed and lightly rumpled my nearly dry hair.
"I may be from the moon, but I am a man," he assured me.
icor: If an enemy tries to use stone gaze and petrify Cecil, does he become a marble statue?
The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out agian. But Cecil Harvey's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me-- his face was absurdly handsome-- with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind.
I imagine at the beginning of the book, he's still a Dark Knight, explaining his somewhat antagonistic behavior.
His hair was dripping wet, disheveled-- even so he looked like he'd just finishing a commercial for hair gel. His dalzzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful.
"My name is Cecil Harvey," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week."
Cecil Harvey: hoisting the light and the dark!
In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Cecil's skin. I couldn't see his face, just his back as he walked away from me, leaving me in theblackness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, he never turned.
This is after he performs the "cover" command vs. a random encounter with a car. How romantic!
"You need to come with us to find the Sand Ruby," he explained. "My girlfriend's in trouble, and yours is already dead so it doesn't matter."
His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smoldering. I couldn't remember to breathe.
Really, now could I not include the next passage?
Cecil in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamons were mebedded in the surface. He lay perfectly still in th egrass, his scintillating arms bare. His glistening, pale lavender lds were shut, though of course he didn't sleep. A perfect statue, carved in some unknown stone, smooth like marble, glittering like crystal.
Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would disappear like a mirage, to beautiful to be real...hesitantly, I reached out one finger and stroked the back of his shimmering hand, where it lay within my reach. I marveled again at the perfect texture, satin smooth, cool as stone.
"You human instincts...," I began. He waitied. "Well, do you find me attractive, in that way, at all?"
He lauhed and lightly rumpled my nearly dry hair.
"I may be from the moon, but I am a man," he assured me.
icor: If an enemy tries to use stone gaze and petrify Cecil, does he become a marble statue?