“She read books, not just little ones, but big ones with hard covers.”
“Her glasses were really thick. I think she was blind.”
“She was weird. You know she’d talk and then listen, and then talk again. She was such a total freak.”
Those were the words that described Melanie.
Everyone that spoke of her said something like that. It was a consistent image, and one that was her norm.
Mind you nobody could ever tell you what she was reading or why?
It’s not like she was shy or aloof. She’d talk to you whenever you started a conversation.
Her big brown eyes would suck in each word you said, and her half smile made you feel like saying more, but then you’d walk away as though the conversation had never happened.
And then the Storm came…… and it never left.
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This is the first part of a serial. If you like what you’ve read so far please leave a comment as the author is very vain and will need much encouragement to continue. Also as the piece moves along if any artists or photographers feel inspired they can submit an image to be used with each installment of this piece.
“She read books.” Now I’m gripped. Lets see if I can jump off the balcony instead. Jesus. I’m going to rip my eyes out. Just a minute I’m going to start smashing my hands with a hammer so I can’t ever click on this mouse again. I could get better fiction throwing Pierre Berton’s dead corpse across a keyboard. Then a storm came? I only hope it was a thermonuclear storm. I would like to submit an image of a huge piece of valium. Only a broom or a dead rabid dog crashing threw the authors’ living room window could help. Please stop. Don’t ever write like this again -ever. Don’t.
Pretty hard to tell in eighty words. It’s not bad. The storm never left could be quite the emotional storm or it could be the beginning of an Atwood science fiction novel. I’m pretty scared of brown eyed girls as it is.
Hey Sinclair Lewis, for a dead guy you can be pretty critical. If you’re not the dead American novelist then why don’t you show us something you’ve written. I’m pretty sure I can read the first paragraph and trash it as well.
I agree with you Reg. If something is to be judged on eighty words I think it should be the choicest 80 words the author chooses. For all kinds of artistic and literary reasons those may not be the first words of the story. If you are going to exist as a writer/artist/musician/actor you need an ego as big as a house and skin twice as thick.
Methinks not.
Is this written for children? Or by one?