tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post5308669580492624155..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Monday February 8th, 2010Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-22483012666563064362010-02-09T17:53:32.029-08:002010-02-09T17:53:32.029-08:00Greg - thanks, glad you liked it :)
And that'...Greg - thanks, glad you liked it :)<br /><br />And that's quite the place to cut the scene off, as it were. I liked the little detail about her being unable to keep the pot for best only.<br /><br />Summerfield - I promise none of my stories will end with 'and then I woke up' :)<br /><br />That was quite chilling. Nicely done.Marchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-45540481807355125872010-02-09T17:45:06.642-08:002010-02-09T17:45:06.642-08:00WOW! cliffhangers, indeed. did a tree break marcus...WOW! cliffhangers, indeed. did a tree break marcus' fall? and greg, what did the wife see; why was there blood? whatever the answers are, just please don't write that those two were only dreaming.<br /><br />here's mine:<br /><br />In my mind, I have killed my father a thousand times. In many ways - shot him with his service revolver; through his heart at close range; another time, dead center between his eyes; stabbed his face and mutilated his body with Mother's expensive chef knife; placed a snooze around his neck and pulled it so tight I could hear his bones snap; drowned him in our backyard pool as he finished his sixth bottle of beer; buried him on the beach, his head sticking from the sand and watched his eyes bulge as he desperately undug himself when the tide came in. Yelling, begging, swearing. <br /><br />He sleeps on the sofa, head facing the wall, mouth slightly open. He makes low gurgling noise. A large fly lands on his forehead and his hand moves to swat it. The fly falls on the carpet, not dead but its wings are askewed from its body. He opens his eyes, looks at me then smiles and closes them again.<br /><br />"Daddy?"<br /><br />"Yes, pookie," he mumbles still with his eyes closed.<br /><br />"Daddy, what happens when you die?"<br /><br />Silence, then the gurgling noise again.<br /><br />"Will I go to jail if I kill you, Daddy?"<br /><br />"No, pookie, you won't kill daddy, would you?" He turns to face me and when he sees my hand, his eyes bulge in horror.<br /><br />"Rowena!" he screams.summerfieldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15517091613960178381noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-24102677434262840082010-02-09T17:42:49.099-08:002010-02-09T17:42:49.099-08:00This comment has been removed by the author.summerfieldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15517091613960178381noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-10881466512907658362010-02-08T21:26:51.362-08:002010-02-08T21:26:51.362-08:00Hehe, superb! So pregnant with possibilities, and...Hehe, superb! So pregnant with possibilities, and I've no idea whether his wife has damaged the rope, if he's trying to escape, if you're pulling a double bluff and he's trying to fake his own death.<br />I really like the little details about the climb as well, they bring the scene to life.<br /><br />Cliffhanger<br /><br />She perched on the edge of her chair as she reached for the teapot. It was Wedgewood, part of a set they'd picked up in England last year. She'd loved it so much that she couldn't keep it for best, and now she used it every day, sometime for both elevenses and high tea. The tea poured out in an even golden stream, splashing into the crude mug with the words "My favourite maid" written on the side.<br />A gust of frigid air rustled her skirt suddenly and she looked up. James was stood at the french windows pulling them open. He was covered from head to toe with blood; it was running down his face and puddling at his feet; there were bloody smears on the glass where he'd leant against it to gain leverage. When she saw what was in his other hand, she started screaming, and he stepped through the doorway.Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com