Well, it's like this.vulgarweedJuly 27 2010, 06:06:45 UTC
I have a potential small-press publisher interested in that thing wot I wrote 20 years ago.
Which is full of stuff like this:
"By the time two hours of this had passed, a cloud moved in front of the sun, or perhaps the haze intensified; it was hard to tell. Rain began to run in diagonal lines down the plate-glass windows. Forty-five minutes to Newark. Annelise came awake with a twitch and pressed her face to the window, staring with straining eyes through the haze, past the densifying factories and high-rise housing projects and long flats of chemical puddles. Her eyes started to strain. Newark was imminent. At last, at last, was that it; she thought, maybe, she saw a shade of another city, a vision of a cluster of towers of spires.
Her stomach tightened as the train pulled out of Newark and swung back into the poisoned plain. Then it loomed, undeniable; the massive concrete body of Manhattan, rising directly out of the gray water. Annelise’s throat leaped up towards her wide eyes, pulsing in wonder at the sheer immensity of it, and the fact that the train was pointing directly towards its, dead-on into the water; it jerked suddenly down into darkness. The tunnel snapped it back up upwards again until it roared out onto a dimly-lit platform that was crowded with tight-faced people and little tight signs that barely read: “PENN STATION.”
Which is full of stuff like this:
"By the time two hours of this had passed, a cloud moved in front of the sun, or perhaps the haze intensified; it was hard to tell. Rain began to run in diagonal lines down the plate-glass windows. Forty-five minutes to Newark. Annelise came awake with a twitch and pressed her face to the window, staring with straining eyes through the haze, past the densifying factories and high-rise housing projects and long flats of chemical puddles. Her eyes started to strain. Newark was imminent. At last, at last, was that it; she thought, maybe, she saw a shade of another city, a vision of a cluster of towers of spires.
Her stomach tightened as the train pulled out of Newark and swung back into the poisoned plain. Then it loomed, undeniable; the massive concrete body of Manhattan, rising directly out of the gray water. Annelise’s throat leaped up towards her wide eyes, pulsing in wonder at the sheer immensity of it, and the fact that the train was pointing directly towards its, dead-on into the water; it jerked suddenly down into darkness. The tunnel snapped it back up upwards again until it roared out onto a dimly-lit platform that was crowded with tight-faced people and little tight signs that barely read: “PENN STATION.”
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