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  • One Sentence at a Time?

    Would anyone like to join me in a literary version of the old Cheddar Gorge game?

    I am bad at writing really long stuff, but short things (like humor - although Dave Mosely would disagree) seem to come naturally.

    Let's see where it goes!

    Dave staggered out of the wreckage of the biplane; the pain from his left hip fading from an agony to a dull, thumping, ache as he forced himself to limp to the top of the hill.
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  • #2
    Originally posted by UncleDes View Post
    Would anyone like to join me in a literary version of the old Cheddar Gorge game?

    I am bad at writing really long stuff, but short things (like humor - although Dave Mosely would disagree) seem to come naturally.

    Let's see where it goes!

    Dave staggered out of the wreckage of the biplane; the pain from his left hip fading from an agony to a dull, thumping, ache as he forced himself to limp to the top of the hill.
    If only he'd thought to check that magneto the Anzio representative had promised him was new-made and guaranteed for a lifetime - whose lifetime, he muttered, as he hung on to the tree standing there in solitary splendor on the hilltop and looked out over the valley to his right, and the sea to his left.
    sigpic Myself as Mephistopheles (Karen Koed's painting of me, 9 Nov 2008, U of Canterbury, CHCH, NZ)

    Gold is the power of a man with a man
    And incense the power of man with God
    But myrrh is the bitter taste of death
    And the sour-sweet smell of the upturned sod,

    Nativity,
    by Peter Cape

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    • #3
      "Bollocks!" he sighed as the dull crump of the exploding fuel tank provided the final punctuation to early morning flight.
      Does it follow that I reject all authority? Perish the thought. In the matter of boots, I defer to the authority of the boot-maker.
      Bakunin

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      • #4
        He limped down the hill towards the sea, and tripped on his boot laces.
        sigpic Myself as Mephistopheles (Karen Koed's painting of me, 9 Nov 2008, U of Canterbury, CHCH, NZ)

        Gold is the power of a man with a man
        And incense the power of man with God
        But myrrh is the bitter taste of death
        And the sour-sweet smell of the upturned sod,

        Nativity,
        by Peter Cape

        Comment


        • #5
          Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked around in embarassment, but there was no one to see him collapse under the strain of his recent ordeals; he was alone again.
          "Self-discipline and self-knowledge are the key. An individual becomes a unique universe, able to move at will through all the scales of the multiverse - potentially able to control the immediate reality of every scale, every encountered environment."
          --Contessa Rose von Bek, Blood part 4, chapter 12

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          • #6
            He however, had not taken into account the Bald Twit Penguin, or the Bald Twit Penguin's Daft Cousin, both watching him curiously and raucously from the beach; or the Oggle-Woggle, ogling him with fascination from high up in the beech's branches.
            sigpic Myself as Mephistopheles (Karen Koed's painting of me, 9 Nov 2008, U of Canterbury, CHCH, NZ)

            Gold is the power of a man with a man
            And incense the power of man with God
            But myrrh is the bitter taste of death
            And the sour-sweet smell of the upturned sod,

            Nativity,
            by Peter Cape

            Comment


            • #7
              He fished his moble phone out of his moleskin pocket. The cracked LCD screen bore the legend "No Signal".

              Comment


              • #8
                'Typical!', he thought, 'Wherever you go in Yorkshire there's never a bloody signal. I need a pint.'.

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