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Exiles of the New York Times
May 22, 2012, 10:34:54 PM *
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Author Topic: Creative Writing  (Read 91208 times)
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admin
Guest

« on: April 16, 2007, 08:50:46 PM »

Post your own writing to be critiqued by your peers.
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jbottle
Guest

« Reply #1 on: April 28, 2007, 12:36:26 AM »

I only knew Harold because the break of his pants was a little too long for the shoe, and tended to drag dirt behind.  He was here for the funeral, naturally, but I didn't want to look at him in the face:  He was my...
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chauncey.g
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« Reply #2 on: April 30, 2007, 02:18:47 PM »

... only direct link to Professor Russell whose death-bed grin turned up a bit at the corners the moment after I recognized the once familiar dirt dragging...
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incadove0
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« Reply #3 on: May 02, 2007, 12:22:41 AM »

...gait, as he dipped right, lurched abruptly upward left; teetered thus, stone sober, into the church with ..
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #4 on: May 02, 2007, 10:35:18 AM »

...gait, as he dipped right, lurched abruptly upward left; teetered thus, stone sober, into the church with ..
..out his pants.  What the hell? he muttered, as the preacher reached down and grabbed his...
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chauncey.g
Guest

« Reply #5 on: May 02, 2007, 01:22:54 PM »

... thigh scratching lavender robe.
« Last Edit: May 02, 2007, 02:44:02 PM by chauncey.g » Logged
chauncey.g
Guest

« Reply #6 on: May 02, 2007, 02:45:22 PM »

"Help a brother out, Father.", he cried.
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incadove0
Guest

« Reply #7 on: May 03, 2007, 12:47:29 AM »

... That was when the preacher, gathering his robes, nodded me to continue my studious meditation over the dead man, leaving the two of us, at the casket, alone …
« Last Edit: March 22, 2009, 05:25:10 AM by incadove » Logged
whiskeypriest
Guest

« Reply #8 on: May 03, 2007, 10:15:47 AM »

with a twelve pack of beer and somw sweet, sweet Columbian blow....
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Beppo
Guest

« Reply #9 on: May 03, 2007, 11:52:55 AM »

yet utterly helpless, as our old friend, clearly deranged, pulled from his person ...
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whiskeypriest
Guest

« Reply #10 on: May 03, 2007, 01:15:45 PM »

coffin.  We were surprised at the action of our friend, seeing as he was dead, but...
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whiskeypriest
Guest

« Reply #11 on: May 03, 2007, 01:36:38 PM »

sons of no one; bastards of young....
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liquidsilver
Guest

« Reply #12 on: May 03, 2007, 01:42:58 PM »

virgins openly weeping over unrequited....
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whiskeypriest
Guest

« Reply #13 on: May 04, 2007, 06:27:49 AM »

"You think I would open it in your presence, sir?  What, pray tell, do you expect?"

"NO ONE expects a kind of....
Spanish Inquisition," Russell quoted, and grabbed the blow from my right hand and did whatever it is blow users do to use blow...*



*Note to self.  Ask someone about this.  Also confirm that blow is what I think it is before sending in man uscript.
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chauncey.g
Guest

« Reply #14 on: May 04, 2007, 08:07:19 AM »

"You can expect major delays on the southbound freeway this morning...", Harold awoke in a foggy stupor and looked around the darkened room as the unfamiliar voice from the clock radio continued to report on the congestion and lane closures of various highways and streets the names of which he did not recognize.

He slowly climbed out of the bed and gingerly reached for the lavender drapes...
« Last Edit: May 06, 2007, 05:15:54 PM by chauncey.g » Logged
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