tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post6710063132577466230..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Monday December 26th, 2011Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-86571480172533785602011-12-30T00:14:53.508-08:002011-12-30T00:14:53.508-08:00Greg - heh, I suspect he'll have a lot more tr...Greg - heh, I suspect he'll have a lot more trouble with the elves. They're much too handy with tools for their own good!<br /><br />The middle bit was really excellent, from the L'il Bakery to the glonging sound - really enjoyed that :)<br /><br />Elor - really liked the description of the house from the elf's point of view.<br /><br />Also, the image of Noah waving frantically made me smile :DMarchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-55888368238878107812011-12-27T13:39:23.709-08:002011-12-27T13:39:23.709-08:00@Marc - You really are making this challenging. Wh...@Marc - You really are making this challenging. When’s this supposed to be over? Now I’m having trouble ending the thing. :}<br /><br /><b>the sack</b><br />“Pass me that sack would you?” Nick made a vague gesture in the way of the clock.<br />Noah looked and saw a sack filled with brightly wrapped boxes. He found it extremely light for its looks and handed it over to Nick.<br />“What’s in it?” Asked Tina, who had dropped her coat and was fluttering her wings.<br />“Nothing really,” Nick shrugged. “Come on then,” he started walking along the mantel.<br />Noah looked about him. He’d never been inside Grandma Patricia’s house before. It astonished him how different it was from their home inside the oak. Everything appeared to be on one level and laid out in squares. There was no central column going from top to bottom with stirs at odd places leading from one room to another. The more worrying realization that struck him, was that the house was made of dead materials. <br />The wood used to make the walls was no longer living, cut down from where it grew and torn to pieces to build this, this... Noah didn’t know what to call it.<br />Shivering he stopped when Nick halted them. They could hear voices now; Emily’s and the appraiser’s. <br />“Give me a week and I’ll get back to you with an estimate,” the man told her. “And if you need a reference to a real estate agent...”<br />Emily shook her head. “No. I don’t need one, not yet. But thank you.”<br />Her eyes swept about the place, their gaze passing over the mantle. Noah waved frantically as Tina and Nick froze. Emily’s brow furrowed as she looked to where they were standing once more. Turning she ushered the man out of the house.Cathryn Leighhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14816869021658935999noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-35534267298994758242011-12-27T00:38:56.291-08:002011-12-27T00:38:56.291-08:00Heh, these theme weeks are causing you to write lo...Heh, these theme weeks are causing you to write longer and longer stories aren't they? I think that's probably a good thing :)<br />Hmm, Santa's trying to replace his workforce on the sly? I dread to think what's going to happen when his Elves start wearing out and he has to replace all of them! And I'm sure that stuffing reindeer in a sack is animal cruelty, you know....<br />Fun story though!<br /><br /><b>The sack</b><br />"Where did that voice come from?" asked Santa as he, too, started to back away from the scattered presents.<br />"Up in the machinery," said Frosty. "I think it might be actually inside that machine."<br />"Which machine is it?"<br />"L'il Bakery. Makes all the toy ovens, humorous aprons, plastic burgers, that kind of thing. So I guess with this years oven, when the timer goes <i>ping</i> the oven goes <b>boom</b>."<br />"That's not very Christmassy!"<br />"Depends on your definition of Christmas I suppose." Frosty shrugged, which should be impossible for a fat suit.<br />"Well it's my definition that counts!" Santa hurled the cocktail shaker defiantly at the machine, and it bounced into the works somewhere with a metallic <i>glong</i>ing sound.<br />"Great," said Frosty, "there goes our weapon. Well done, boss."<br />There was a scuttling and a rustling from the floor, and some of the eight-legged workers ran up to Santa with something voluminous and hessian clutched in their lobster-like claws. Hundreds of little red eyes stared up at him from the floor, and Santa had to repress an atavistic shudder.<br />"What's this?" he said, picking it up from them.<br />"I think they're giving you the sack, Santa!" Frosty dissolved into giggles.Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com