The exercise:
Today we shall write about: taking it too far.
Once this post is up and I've replied to yesterday's comments, I'm going to get started on typing up what I shall be referring to as The Honeymoon Posts. They're all in my notebook except for the last day before I get back - I've decided to just type up my take on it as I schedule it.
It's going to be weird not logging into this site every day. For two whole weeks!
Mine:
Yesterday I saw a pheasant run through our front yard and into the orchard. If you haven't had the pleasure for yourself, the males look like this.
Today Kat saw it go running through our front yard and then pause behind the car. She brought me over and we watched it as it slowly crept into the orchard - as though it knew we were watching.
Once is just happenstance. Twice? That makes him ours.
And that means giving him a name. Kat suggested Phil. I liked it, but wanted to make it a bit more sophisticated - so I suggested Phillip. Phillip The Pheasant. A decent name, but of course I wasn't totally satisfied.
So I declared that he would be called Sir Phillip The Pheasant.
5 comments:
You probably won't see this comment before you get back then, but at the time of writing you're up to 960 days, so tomorrow will be 961, which is 31 squared and thus a lovely number.
I live in the middle of London, and we saw a pheasant on our road a couple of years back. I have no idea how it got there or where it went to, but it was a pleasant surprise. I like your decision to name yours though :)
Have fun on the honeymoon!
Taking it too far
Charles Ascugimento, Head of Building Security, leaned very slightly forward until he could see over the lip of the building roof. Forty floors below traffic moved steadily and pedestrians passed by, none of them having yet noticed the man hanging by his fingertips from the lip of the roof.
The man was dressed in a Santa suit.
"I don't know who you are," said Charles, leaning back again and apparantly addressing thin air. "But I think we can safely say that by being here, in these highly suspicious circumstances, that you've probably stolen something. Possibly, my patience."
Santa squeaked. His fingers had gone numb two minutes ago while Charles had talked about his relationship with his nanny, and he couldn't tell if he was slipping off or not.
"Still there?" Charles leaned forward again to check. "Right then." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bird-seed, and sprinkled it on Santa's head. As he walked away, he heard the aggressive coo-ing of the feral pigeon population spotting a free lunch, and wondered briefly if, perhaps, he hadn't taken things too far.
Taking it too far
Ken slept with multiple partners when he gets lonely. His best friend, James's only hope is that he could change for the sake of his wife and his family.
He tried to convince him on many occasions, mirrored the truth about all his doings but he turned deaf ears.
His dark secret has been kept in the dark for many years and he has absolutely no intention of changing his ways.
Is he taking it too far?
I'm going to try and comment on those that post after me, I feel it's only fair.
from yesterday @Heather - I just started writing again after a very long hiatus. Decided I would just write, no projects, no pressure. Just write and see what comes out. I try to limit myself to 15mins - if something comes out in that time, wonderful, if i want to write longer I do, but I've been so satisfied when I get that daily fix. I've now written 15 out of the last 16 days - 13 in a row since I found Marc's blog. So I look forward to reading your sentences - now stop erasing them and just put them out there.
@Summerfield @Zhongming - fascinating that you both chose proposals as your topic of visions and how they could be oh so different results.
today - @Marc I just watched a gang of turkeys walk through my neighborhood, terrorizing the bushes and trees, the were not quite as genteel as Sir Phillip.
@zhongming - I have a feeling that a few paragraphs later things will start to fall apart for him.
@Greg - I'm starting to love Charles - I see him in a great 80's movie (great being a very questionable description).
Here's me taking it too far, or at lease someone else:
She drooled herself awake. Cheek stuck to the leather seat. Alone. Again. The fluorescent lights do nothing for her headache. Two cosmos. Or was it three? I’ve got to stop doing this, she thought. Three weeks in a row, Jenny conned her into after dinner drinks, promising she’d meet some interesting guys. Or at least cute ones. Every week she had passed out and ended up at the end of the train line. Another $50 cab ride, damn it, they better take credit cards.
She gathers her purse and prepares for her shameful exit. But no embarrassment this week, no one else shares the car. She could see one person in the car ahead of her, no one in the car behind. She reaches the closed door. It won’t open. What the . . . The lights go off in the car ahead of her. The man disappears. She tries the door again. It’s jammed or locked or . . . Half of the lights go off in her car. The door to the car in front opens, a hand pokes through. That’s not a normal hand, it looks mangled or burned or ….Jenny and her interesting guys. She tries the exit door, still nothing. She runs towards the back of the train. Sees the man come through. The rest of the lights go off in the car. She runs to the light of the next.
Bursting through the door, she drops her bag. She looks back and sees only darkness. Where is he? Lights go off in the new car. Damn it. Leaving her bag, she sprints to the next car. As soon as she enters, the lights go off. No sign of the man. Sprinting. One more car of light ahead. She gets to the door. The lights ahead disappear. Darkness ahead and darkness behind. Mangled hand behind, the unknown ahead. She must try. She blasts through the door and runs into the dark. She trips over something. What was that? A bag, a body or … Sweating out the alcohol now, fully aware, she gets to the final door. She opens it and propels herself to safety. But there is no ground, falling. Head slapping concrete. Headache is back. She sees stars, the moon, she’s made it. Or have I? She looks up and sees the man coming through the final door. He has caught up to her. His mangled hand, holding my bag, calling on his handheld radio, probably for help, but it doesn’t matter, it’s the end of the line.
Dumbricht - that was so raw and exciting to read. You pulled me right into the scene with endless of self reflected thoughts. Excellent :)
Greg - that was wonderfully mysterious! I like the dark ingredient that you've used :)
Marc - enjoy ya!
Greg - ha, you won't be rid of me so easily as that! We're not leaving until Saturday morning :P
I love how Charles grows more and more demented with every vignette. Or perhaps it's just being revealed. Either way.
Zhongming - definitely taking it too far. Definitely not going to end well.
Good work!
Dumbricht - I like how your 'it' could be the drinking/partying, the train, or her flight. Great details, great tension. Very enjoyable read.
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