Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Tuesday May 29th, 2018
The exercise: First line week continues with: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Two haiku it up if you like (I tried to use the shortest opening line on my list today for those of you not wanting to skip haiku this week).
@Morganna: I really like the references back to Empire that you have going on at the moment, it's making me quite keen to see Marc's addition and get started on the next chapter myself!
@Marc: I think I'm just going to keep running with Bill and Ben and see where the story goes, so no haiku this week. Well done on the comment spurt :) I think you're right, looking back, Sir Norris definitely draws on your Henri in his general attitude towards people. But that's fitting I think -- no one in the pages of this blog is quite such an antithesis of a chivalrous knight as Henri :)
Are you thinking what I'm thinking? The torch light played over the paintings, a bright circle of vision haloed by less bright rings. They were set in golden frames but were dusty, and when Bill rubbed a finger gently over the first it came away with a patina of the greenish-black of mould. He tapped the frame, which thudded softly. "Gilt over wood," he said. "Makes sense for farmers, you don't exactly dig gold up out of the fields when you're planting beets." "There's something on the floor," said Ben. "Right beneath it." Bill bent down and picked at something; it took three tries to catch his fingernails under it and lift it. "It's a namecard," he said. "This painting is called Judit and Bogdan". He looked at the painting again. "Or maybe it's mislabelled," he said. "This is... definitely... a picture of a cow and a pig. Farmers don't usually name their food, do they?" "Wouldn't know. I know the chef at the Wonky Rose gets upset when I call my steak Steven and talk to it when I eat it." "You're still eating at the Wonky Rose?" "Why is that more unlikely than me calling my steak Steven?" "I've known you for more years that I want to remember. I know what you're like." They moved on to the next painting, and then the next, and then the last. "None of these," said Bill. "They're ok, in a rural, using-a-chicken-for-a-paintbrush kind of way, but they're not what we're after." He turned to the doors; now they were in the hall they could count three of them. "Which door is the car behind, then?" Ben sniggered. "Remember when there actually was a car behind one of the doors?" "Yeah, and I can remember the driver getting it up on two wheels to chase us down that narrow stone corridor." "Good times." "So, which door then?" Ben looked at all three. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "Yeah. None of these. Communist farmers are going to be predictable. Let's get the paintings down and hunt for secret doors."
3 comments:
Are you thinking what I'm
Thinking? We think so alike,
We must be twins, right?
@Morganna: I really like the references back to Empire that you have going on at the moment, it's making me quite keen to see Marc's addition and get started on the next chapter myself!
@Marc: I think I'm just going to keep running with Bill and Ben and see where the story goes, so no haiku this week. Well done on the comment spurt :) I think you're right, looking back, Sir Norris definitely draws on your Henri in his general attitude towards people. But that's fitting I think -- no one in the pages of this blog is quite such an antithesis of a chivalrous knight as Henri :)
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
The torch light played over the paintings, a bright circle of vision haloed by less bright rings. They were set in golden frames but were dusty, and when Bill rubbed a finger gently over the first it came away with a patina of the greenish-black of mould. He tapped the frame, which thudded softly.
"Gilt over wood," he said. "Makes sense for farmers, you don't exactly dig gold up out of the fields when you're planting beets."
"There's something on the floor," said Ben. "Right beneath it."
Bill bent down and picked at something; it took three tries to catch his fingernails under it and lift it. "It's a namecard," he said. "This painting is called Judit and Bogdan". He looked at the painting again. "Or maybe it's mislabelled," he said. "This is... definitely... a picture of a cow and a pig. Farmers don't usually name their food, do they?"
"Wouldn't know. I know the chef at the Wonky Rose gets upset when I call my steak Steven and talk to it when I eat it."
"You're still eating at the Wonky Rose?"
"Why is that more unlikely than me calling my steak Steven?"
"I've known you for more years that I want to remember. I know what you're like."
They moved on to the next painting, and then the next, and then the last.
"None of these," said Bill. "They're ok, in a rural, using-a-chicken-for-a-paintbrush kind of way, but they're not what we're after." He turned to the doors; now they were in the hall they could count three of them. "Which door is the car behind, then?"
Ben sniggered. "Remember when there actually was a car behind one of the doors?"
"Yeah, and I can remember the driver getting it up on two wheels to chase us down that narrow stone corridor."
"Good times."
"So, which door then?"
Ben looked at all three. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Yeah. None of these. Communist farmers are going to be predictable. Let's get the paintings down and hunt for secret doors."
Morganna - really like the flow of this one :)
Greg - hah, indeed.
I am perfectly okay with you running with Ben and Bill :)
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