Escape from Elba
Exiles of the New York Times
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Author Topic: Creative Writing  (Read 27192 times)
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« on: April 16, 2007, 08:50:46 PM »

Post your own writing to be critiqued by your peers.
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jbottle
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« 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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How many seas must the white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand?
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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What does it matter?  All is grace.
chauncey.g
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« 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
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« Reply #6 on: May 02, 2007, 02:45:22 PM »

"Help a brother out, Father.", he cried.
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incadove0
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« Reply #7 on: May 03, 2007, 12:47:29 AM »

... That was when the preacher, gathering his robes, so as to move more quickly to the embarrassment at the door, nodded me to continue my studious meditation over the smiling dead man, leaving the two of us, at the casket, alone …
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How many seas must the white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand?
whiskeypriest
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« 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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What does it matter?  All is grace.
Beppo
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« 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
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« 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
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« Reply #11 on: May 03, 2007, 01:36:38 PM »

sons of no one; bastards of young....
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liquidsilver
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« Reply #12 on: May 03, 2007, 01:42:58 PM »

virgins openly weeping over unrequited....
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"I hate listening to peoples dreams. It's like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I'm not in any of them and nobody's having sex, I just don't care."
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« Reply #13 on: May 03, 2007, 10:52:31 PM »

... "So," said Professor Russell, interrupting my thoughts, "are you going to open it?  Or talk to yourself all day?" ...
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How many seas must the white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand?
whiskeypriest
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« Reply #14 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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What does it matter?  All is grace.
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