Renfield had - by the time the brief awkward hand of adolesence had clawed its vivious, bone-deap on his shoulder - learnt not to talk about the things he saw. Sometimes, he learnt so well he forgot them completely, until Benton comes with the white wolf snapping at his feet. The wolf is an attention seeker, spining around like a loop (loup!)
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*grin*
And I wrote (badly) a little bit earlier stuff with Benton naked and wearing the serge (which he doesn't in this universe - he is a sneaky bastard with principles... and good grammar) and Renfield takes a moment to realise that it's the suit his dad (Ian Turnbull) died in and it is still oozing thick unctous blood the colour of horribly bloody death.
Okay, that bit might have lost it. I keep doing the "colour of trust betrayed, or unforeseen death, or wolf, or unnatural death..." Let's say they had a skin walker problem. There's a reason Quinn (up there) wants the boys out of the house and hupping pinball machines... and it's not Fraser.
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Dum Dum Da! Clearly still-alive!Bob didn't chase him off the cliff... it's my favourite bit of the original draft/thing/immensity and - thinking about it - it might even have got to you.
You will like it immensly any which way - blood, gore and supernatural murder are your thing.
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Very nice stuff indeed.
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It's a little random, I am beset with back-story, important backstory... I am the person who tries to retroengineer everything. (agh! Mike Holmes analogy bearly stopped)
This is not the night of spelling things. It is the night of drinking diet coke after 1800 hours. I have a problem. I shouldn't have looked at that AA poster down at the library.
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Did you see th elast few posts I replied to out here - I think you were in a meds-haze at the time and you may have missed them.
Tomorrow's Canada Day - tell your Mum to make flapjacks w maple syrup.
XO
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[dosk is home! woo! So now I know a lot about atomic powered aircraft and why they don't work (unless you're Russian and free to kill all the aircrew) and everything else I didn't want to know, but do now]
I was just going to say with the school thing that I know you're not happy in the world of retail (and _hell_ you're not pappy in the world of retail) and you should really find something that completes you and makes you happy.
I am more likely to be baking my famous fruit cake. Boiling butter and sugar sounds syrup-y to me, ymmv. We are cooking in this country regardless of the oven on and then the rads upstairs have gone screwy.
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It's related to the big thing (otherwise known as poet) so you might be waiting a while.
Sunshiny comments make the road a little smoother.
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