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stillsostrangeToday I started physical therapy for my treacherous left knee. The therapist thinks the trouble is less quads and more IT band. My future has become endless weighted stretches. But he didn't tell me to cancel Warrior Dash, so that's something. (I get the feeling that physical therapists are used to people doing stupid shit against medical advice.)
I suppose I should get back to the endless survey questions eventually, but today I'm going to dust off the first line meme (short story edition only) in celebration of finishing "Snakebit."
For those of you new to this meme, we post the first lines of various unfinished projects in hope of finding inspiration.
"Flood"
Nan doesn't mean to fall asleep--she never does. But Evie's soft breath and the steady creak of the ceiling fan lull her, till her eyes sag and the worn paperback slides from her fingers.
"Salt"
The sea left footprints.
"Serpentskirt"
All Souls Night and the gutters still brim with shed Hallows skin. Broken glass crunches under Jane's boots as she carries an amp to the van, glittering beside limp feathers and cracked sequins, tattered black and orange fliers. One hell of a party, she heard--Sixth Street is still subdued and sleepy. But even for the day after Halloween and a Monday to boot, the crowd is still better than last night's in Dallas.
"Spore"
"I got it from my girlfriend," the boy says. "Ex-girlfriend." Color rises in his light brown cheeks. "Wow, that makes it sound bad. Simpler too, I guess."
"Waiting For the Train"
When it's raining here you hear the trains. You hear them other times too, with the tracks so close, but the dusty heat of summer bakes the sound out of the air, till it gets buried under cars and trucks and TVs and voices and all the other small-town noises. But when the rain comes, and the trains come, the whistles carry all over, low and mournful and rumbling in my chest.
Eternally untitled queen in the tower story
She watches from her tower as the sky burns.
Ash rains from scabbed clouds, drifts in grey-silver sheets toward the broken ground. Razored black rock cracks again, leaking flames and the hot blood of the earth. Heat seeps through her windows, shimmering against etched glass, and no matter how much incense she burns her room still reeks of the end of the world.
I suppose I should get back to the endless survey questions eventually, but today I'm going to dust off the first line meme (short story edition only) in celebration of finishing "Snakebit."
For those of you new to this meme, we post the first lines of various unfinished projects in hope of finding inspiration.
"Flood"
Nan doesn't mean to fall asleep--she never does. But Evie's soft breath and the steady creak of the ceiling fan lull her, till her eyes sag and the worn paperback slides from her fingers.
"Salt"
The sea left footprints.
"Serpentskirt"
All Souls Night and the gutters still brim with shed Hallows skin. Broken glass crunches under Jane's boots as she carries an amp to the van, glittering beside limp feathers and cracked sequins, tattered black and orange fliers. One hell of a party, she heard--Sixth Street is still subdued and sleepy. But even for the day after Halloween and a Monday to boot, the crowd is still better than last night's in Dallas.
"Spore"
"I got it from my girlfriend," the boy says. "Ex-girlfriend." Color rises in his light brown cheeks. "Wow, that makes it sound bad. Simpler too, I guess."
"Waiting For the Train"
When it's raining here you hear the trains. You hear them other times too, with the tracks so close, but the dusty heat of summer bakes the sound out of the air, till it gets buried under cars and trucks and TVs and voices and all the other small-town noises. But when the rain comes, and the trains come, the whistles carry all over, low and mournful and rumbling in my chest.
Eternally untitled queen in the tower story
She watches from her tower as the sky burns.
Ash rains from scabbed clouds, drifts in grey-silver sheets toward the broken ground. Razored black rock cracks again, leaking flames and the hot blood of the earth. Heat seeps through her windows, shimmering against etched glass, and no matter how much incense she burns her room still reeks of the end of the world.
