Feb. 3rd, 2011

mmexlibris: (Default)
Writing exercise from Inkpunks.

Part One:
Write a paragraph of narrative, 100-150 words, in sentences of seven or fewer words. No sentence fragments! Each word must have a subject and a verb.
Part Two:
Write a half-page to a page of narrative, up to 350 words, which is all one sentence.

(Original fic, Captain Wednesday, Sea of Dust)

She woke to the sound of shouting.  The ship was listing, the world tilted.  In a breath, she was moving.  Barefoot, she was on deck in a heartbeat.   Her firstmate pointed.  The veil parted on the beast's back.  It was magnificent, broad and grey.  She thought she was looking at land.  No, it could never be so simple.  Land didn't surge and roll.  Land didn't roar and make the ship shudder.  The leviathan was directly beneath them.  She shielded her eyes against the sun.  There was no end to it.  She shouted to the helmsman for altitude.  It was no good.  No dust meant no traction.  They were caught in its wake.


~~~

(Ashes To Ashes, S3, Alex)

Everywhere she goes, he is there with her, in the dim grey reflections of the windows as she walks to work, in the grimy corners of the station, in the shadows of the threadbare trattoria, even when she lays her head down to sleep; she can't seem to get the image of his half-destroyed face out of her head, can't escape from silent plea of his one good eye, haunted by his youth and the strange outline of his silhouette in the doorway of her bedroom, the leaden weight of his questioning gaze upon her, and the thing that scares her the most isn't the ragged edge of bone and skin above his jaw or the blackness she feels crowding around them both, pressing in from all sides, razor sharp teeth stealing away precise bites of memory, devouring the very things that she's trying most to cling to, no, that isn't what scares her the most; the real thing she fears is that he feels
real in a way she can't quite put her finger on, in a way that draws her forward through the numberless days, case after case disappearing behind her, and still he eludes her, making her reach and stretch herself thin, makes her give more of herself than she even imagined she had to give, and she does, because when she looks in his eye, she knows that finding the truth, his truth, is the most important thing she has ever been called upon to do in her life.

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