A Suzanne production:
Meep
Published at Sunday, February 15, 2009, 8:55 PM
Yes. I noticed it has been forever since I last posted here. And it's kinda obvious I never came around to finishing the 50,000 words novel. Sigh... Well, there's always this year! And this year is a new year! I shall succeed!
At the moment, I'm not specifically working on any of my works. However, I'm working on a 1,200 - 1,500 word essay for the Commonwealth Essay Competition. I got this last November, but only started to work on it today. I'll be working on the title "The Long Way Home". So uh, stay around to give me some comments? :3
Here's the first 100 words though:
Clink. Clank.
The chiming sounds of coins meeting the ground stirred his mind. He did not lay out his coat on the floor without due cause. Nevertheless, he grinned like a shaggy dog, nodding obediently as one would do when his owner tossed him a dried bone. The coins on the ground were then scooped up and introduced to a stack of coins and paper.
He then fumbled his boney fingers as he reached out for his trusty guitar. It was the only thing he does best. When aliens would invade Earth and cast a “wit-dimming” spell on humankind, he was positive he would still be able to play his guitar with perfection. On top of that, he would never give up the guitar to rediscover fire. The guitar in question was an ash black classical guitar.
At the moment, I'm not specifically working on any of my works. However, I'm working on a 1,200 - 1,500 word essay for the Commonwealth Essay Competition. I got this last November, but only started to work on it today. I'll be working on the title "The Long Way Home". So uh, stay around to give me some comments? :3
Here's the first 100 words though:
Clink. Clank.
The chiming sounds of coins meeting the ground stirred his mind. He did not lay out his coat on the floor without due cause. Nevertheless, he grinned like a shaggy dog, nodding obediently as one would do when his owner tossed him a dried bone. The coins on the ground were then scooped up and introduced to a stack of coins and paper.
He then fumbled his boney fingers as he reached out for his trusty guitar. It was the only thing he does best. When aliens would invade Earth and cast a “wit-dimming” spell on humankind, he was positive he would still be able to play his guitar with perfection. On top of that, he would never give up the guitar to rediscover fire. The guitar in question was an ash black classical guitar.
Labels: Break Time, Commonwealth Essay
