Six Sentence Sunday 19

Happy Halloween-eve and welcome back all you SSSers! Thank you for all your well-wishings and condolences regarding my grandmother's passing...

Last time, just as he was about to get hit again, Simon reminded the madam that she bought him from the dredge-line to solve the problem she couldn't.

The madam’s hand dropped to her side. “If I could have kept this within my own house, I would have.” She glanced at a couple girls who dropped their heads as though guilty or afraid. “I’ve headed off most of the gossip by keeping her shut up inside, but folks can smell a rumor like a dead fish in the sun, and I’m running out of time and ideas.” The madam drew a thin roll of dried black seaweed from her skirt pocket and stuck it between her teeth. “Since that girl is always staring out the window, I supposed she was watching you kids drag muck outta the river since there’s nothing else to look at, but maybe I was wrong.”

Six Sentence Sunday 18

Good morning and welcome back all you SSS participants (and everyone else who drops by). Last week I was on the mainland for Canadian Thanksgiving and my parents' 40th anniversary. I was supposed to be gone this weekend as well for my cousin's baby shower (she's due at the end of the month), but it has been cancelled due to my grandmother's recent passing. So I'm home and won't be participating in SSS next Sunday because of the funeral/etc.

Last time, sorry, you got a heavy load of setting/world-stuff. This week is lighter, I swear:

Two girls, freshly purchased from the factories or dredge-line, still had the sun-blackened skin and shorn hair of the laborer class. Now their ragged tufts were adorned with tiny silver clips and bits of ribbon and their faces had been coated with a fine golden powder.

“It was my fault.”

Simon’s calm voice jolted Hector’s attention away from the girls. The madam’s hand was raised, but had paused in its downward arc, waiting for the rest of Simon’s words before choosing whether to strike again.

Simon raised his eyes, “but no one before us has had much success, otherwise you would not have bought us from the dredge-line.”

Be nice

I've been thinking a lot since a certain anonymous person tagged my SSS 17 post with a... not entirely friendly comment. I wanted to address it and say that I will not be changing my blog settings to prevent anonymous commenters.

So let's be clear, I completely respect that person for their own reading/writing tastes. There's no witch-hunt going on here. I'm not angry, upset or even necessarily bothered by what they said.

In fact, this post is going to rag on me a little, not them, 'cause I don't like spreading negativity.

 I know the style of 'Simon's Oath' (my SSS story) is not universally loved. I'm well used to getting a love/hate reaction to it and, just so you know, I am planning to cut/trim some of the description from what you SSS readers have read. Right now it's out with beta-readers and I'm waiting on their feedback before returning to the story with my blow-torch and machete.

I recently linked back to an older post of mine on voice/honesty, and I'm not going to pretend that honesty doesn't have its downsides. I have never done so intentionally, but I know I've hurt people in the past by being too blunt. Understanding where that line is... well, let's just say it's a lesson that seems to be taking my entire life to pin down, but luckily enough, an upside of being an honest person is that I'll always admit when I'm wrong.

Everyone had a different idea of what 'being honest' means, just as I'm sure not everyone would answer the same way if your spouse/partner/kid/best friend asked if an outfit is flattering on them or not.*

In my mind, if someone takes the time and effort to ask my opinion, I will try to show the same respect in return by being honest, while still maintaining a healthy coating of 'tact'.

When I put my writing up online, I'm asking a question. I'm hoping you readers show me respect by being honest and telling me what you really think, good or bad.

...and I try to do the same in return.

I think I might be one of the few SSS members who actually visits every single site** every week***. Except for the (clearly) naughty ones, I read every person's sentences. I think about them, I usually re-read them, sometimes re-vist previous weeks to refresh my memory, and then I comment with the most honest reaction possible. And part of the reason is because I love getting comments myself, especially when I can tell that someone is paying attention to my words. If you drop by, I like to know who you are, even if all you do is say, 'hi'.

I think one of the greatest things about SSS is the chance to get many different eyes looking at the same, small bite of writing. The chance for others to weigh in and say, 'I got confused here...' or, 'this sentence could be re-written to be clearer/smoother/more effective.' If I see something wrong, I always try to say someone constructive. At least, that's my intention.

I think not everyone takes this as seriously as I do... but I'm dyslexic. Reading/writing has always been serious work for me, so I can't NOT take it seriously. I get tripped up easier than most people, quickly confused, I often miss important details or nuance. You've heard the term "idiot-proof" before, right? Well, if I can get through a piece of your writing without stopping, having to back-track, re-read or becoming otherwise stuck, then your writing is just about the best it can possibly be. Congratulations, I'm your free idiot-proof-tester (or monkey), so use me.

I once was in the difficult position where I wasn't sure whether to tell a friend of mine she was using the term 'knocked-up' incorrectly. She thought it meant fooling around or messing around.

I told her (after taking her aside) because I have been embarrassed many times by my own mistakes, especially in writing.

Personally, I'm thankful every-time someone tells me I'm wrong and points out how I can do better. I want to be a writer, therefore I want to push my boundaries and improve until the quality of my work is good enough to get published.

So, for all your SSS submitters, if the way I read/comment on your work upsets you, let me know (my email address is on the 'Contact' page) and I won't comment on your posts anymore. And yes, I'm specifically talking to the SSS people because the anonymous person most likely wouldn't have commented on my own SSS post unless they were also a participant. It just seems logical...

And I offer out a blanket apology to anyone I've unintentionally hurt by speaking my opinion on your writing. Sometimes I can be too blunt/harsh, and that certainly can be the case after reading 100+ SSS entries in a row.

It may not be a problem much longer 'cause I've got to admit, all this extra thinking about negativity is wearing me out, especially today. This is why I wanted to address this subject and move on. 'Cause I've got more important things occupying my brain and energy right now.

See you Sunday.


*My husband will not beat around the bush and tells me to go get changed... and it's one of the reasons I love and trust him.
** except last week when I caught a horrible cold and barely got out of bed for days, and once in September when Safari kept crashing over and over again until I nearly threw my laptop out the window.
*** Often it takes me a couple days because I easily get migraines from repeatedly trying to prove I'm human

Six Sentence Sunday 17

Well, another Sunday, another round of SSS, and yet again, I'm not actually at home. Do you know that in the last 10 weekends, I've only been home for one of them? I'll start my SSS rounds tomorrow morning, as usual :)

This weekend is not only the long weekend for Canadian Thanksgiving, but today is actually my parents' 40th wedding anniversary! So I'll be on the mainland eating turkey and spending the day being thankful, especially for my wonderful family.

For all you awesome people who drop by today... what are you thankful for?

Last time the brothers were scolded by the madam 'cause Faith was throwing a fit, and then...

There was a smattering of giggles and Hector shyly glanced at the half-dozen ladies perched on red couches in their lace and satin, uniforms of their station like the brown trousers and white shirts that the brothers wore. Most of them were around Simon’s age, but the small serving girls, bleary eyed from carrying trays of food and drinks all night, were ten, or maybe a little younger. With their half-starved bodies stuffed into layers of cloth and their eyes and lips painted with coal and rouge, they could appear to be years older or younger than their true age. The only clear indicator was the hair. Only girls who had reached the age of eight could tie up their hair and enter the red district. Though not a dignified position in society, it guaranteed they would not starve on the streets, die in the mines, or drown in the river or sea. 

Six Sentence Sunday 16

Six Sentence Sunday sixteen...wow, try and say that five time fast...

Well, it's the first SSS of October, the air is crisp and the brightly coloured maple leaves are crackling and crunching under my feet whenever I take the dog for a walk. This truly is my favourite month of the year :)

So last time, Hector was cowering at Simon's back, afraid yet mesmerized by the madam...

She moved closer and Simon bent his knees until his head was lower than the madam’s and his eyes were politely lowered despite the handprint on his cheek. Hector could only stare at the mark on Simon’s face, his own body refusing to bend, to submit under the madam’s stare, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, her chin lifted and Simon’s back rounded into a hunch, his shoulders curling inward as though trying to fold away the swiftly growing limbs of his fifteen year old body.

The madam’s gaze clawed over Simon, pausing at his downcast eyes and crouched posture, then she sneered and stepped away. “You’ve been here almost a week and she’s still roaring away up there like some kinda animal. You’re lucky there’s no customers at this time of day. Business is already falling ‘cause of her fits.”

Six Sentence Sunday 15

Good morning all you SSS participants!

As always, I love it when you guys leave me comments (especially if you can point out mistakes I've made...) and, if you get lost, check out the 'Six Sentence Sunday' tab at the top to catch up.

Last time Hector watched (helplessly) as the madam hit Simon in the face and demanded to know what he had done to 'the girl'...

“I only tried to - ”

Before Simon could finish, she slapped him again.

Hector pushed his face into Simon’s back and squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn’t escape the sound of the blow or the shuddering recoil of his brother’s body.

There was silence, and when Hector emerged, the madam was staring down at him, her rouged lips curled in bloody disgust. Across her left canine was a vivid curl of red stain and the flash of red on white was momentarily beautiful against her dark hair and golden skin.

“The two of you are useless,” the madam snarled, and the beauty was gone.

Six Sentence Sunday 14

Another Sunday, another fabulous round of SSS!

(psst. For those who don't know what that is, click the link and read the FAQ if you want to play next week. Sign-ups start Tuesday evenings.)

Well, since everyone was kind enough to vote and tell me which story they wanted, here's the beginning of scene #2, and this time we're switching into Hector's viewpoint (the story alternates between the two brothers, but not every scene).

***

Hector followed Simon down the stairs and into the first lounge. As they approached the door to the salon, he could hear a number of tired, female voices bickering and gossiping. He hung back as Simon knocked on the half-open door, then followed his brother inside.

Amongst the red sofas, ladies were lounging, drinking and picking bite-sized delicacies from painted glass trays carried by small serving girls. Tall and furious, the madam strode over and hit Simon’s face with her open palm.

“What did you do to the girl?”

Six Sentence Sunday 13

Wo-hoo! 13 is my lucky number, so I guess I better make this one good...

Welcome back all you SSS participants! How's your first Sunday since school is back in session?

I'm in Vancouver today celebrating my birthday a couple days early with my beloved family (including my adorable 4 year old nephew), so I will start the SSS rounds first thing tomorrow morning :)

Last time, Hector started to get a little panicky about 'what the madam said' (and yes, it's that kind of madam).

And now, Simon cuts him off:

“What is it? What does she stare at every day?”

“Simon!”

“Don’t be afraid, Hector.” Simon pushed away from the door and offered his brother a reassuring smile despite the waves of blood pounding through his head and heart. “I’ll think of something.”

***

And that's the end of the first scene :)

As always, you can click on the 'Six Sentence Sunday' tab at the top to read from the beginning if you're lost or need a refresher.

...do you guys want me to continue on this story so you can meet the madam? Or would you like to read more of Project #3 with Alexander? Tell me which you want in the comments and I'll start posting whichever story has the most votes.

Six Sentence Sunday 12

Wow, September already! The summer certainly flies by when you're out of town almost every single weekend... and it looks like that's not going to change anytime soon :)

Welcome back all you SSS participants!

For those who don't know what that is, go check out the link and read some more snippets. Warning: not every submission (or site) should be read by those under the age of 18.

Last time, Simon fled the room when he couldn't take anymore of Faith's screaming and pushed his brother out into the hallway.

Hector’s face was white, but Simon stood staring at the frosted, grey glass door, one hand braced against the metal rails. The echos of her shrieks were still ringing through his ears, cutting through the veins and shredding the meat of his brain. After five days he had yet to meet a person in that room, only an empty shell or a raging squall, and each time he was stunned at how quickly she swung between the two extremes.

“This isn’t working, Simon, she’s just getting worse. What will we do? The madam said - ”

Don't mock me

Okay, I admit it... I'm watching Tangled (the Disney movie) for like the dozenth time.

I re-watch movies a lot... especially animations. I love watching the sub-characters and concentrating on what they're up to in the background while the main characters are living their own tale.

Books too, I'm a re-reader. The main reason is because, not only am I a speed reader, but 'cause I'm dyslexic, I tend to miss stuff the first time around. I like to re-read, 'cause I always find something new and interesting... just like re-watching an animation to concentrate on the background things. Seriously, I'm even curious about the effects like leaves, water, grass, etc. 'cause every tiny seemingly insignificant element, movement or object are deliberate, unlike live action where there can be unexpected variables.

So that's all fine and good, but what does this have to do with writing? 'Cause you know I'll inevitably lead it back to that...

Well, I'm very interested in the re-read potential of the stories I write.

Okay, that sentence sounds a little weird, but it's still true.

Like 'easter eggs' on a dvd, I like learning about little details that authors intentionally put in their writing, 'cause it's normal for people to attach significance to certain things. It not only helps you remember facts, but it plays a large part in organizing your world-view, and therefore, the way someone writes. And it's always different for everyone.

Two things in my writing that are always more than what they seem are colours and numbers.

As a personal tidbit, I'm particularly fond of the number thirteen 'cause it's my birthdate :) ...next month, actually, which is why I also have a special place in my heart for the number nine, outside of the fact that √9 = 3, so 9 is a square number. Thirteen is also the most classic unlucky number, which revs my under-dog spirit into overdrive. I get particularly excited/hyper when my birthday falls on a Friday the 13th.


Is it weird that a dyslexic person is so interested in numbers? Probably... because I suck at math. Yup, it's the second lowest grade I ever received in school (the lowest being French). Languages and math are the two subjects that, no matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked or memorized lectures, I could not overcome my disability. And that's why they have special significance. The two subjects I couldn't find a work-around for. French, I re-took in University. I couldn't gradate with an Honours degree without having a second language, and I succeeded at that. Well, barely. Math... well, I had to claim it in a different way. So as a result, numbers always show up in my stories.


In Project #1, everything important is tied to a prime number (sorry I'm such a nerd). Prime numbers mean the world makes sense, so when there isn't a prime number, it's like a subtle hint. Thirteen columns, five compass points, four wings in a school, all the numbers are what they are for a very specific reason. Nothing is simply a number chosen by random.

In Project #2, the main superstition of the glass city is tied to Phi (the number which is used to calculate a spiral which occurs in nature, like a spiral seashell). In Project #3, the repetition of the number two is very important to the final *reveal* (which I only figured out last week).

As for colours, grey shows up numerous times (okay, I know grey is not technically a colour), as does red... but I'm not going to reveal my thoughts on those two colours. In the strange inner-workings of my brain, yellow and green are *happy colours*, orange is calming and blue hypes me up. Black is a colour of wildness & passion. White is not a colour of purity... rather, it is a blank canvas waiting to take on the appropriate colour(s). Take that as you may, and if you've read my SSS page (or the individual SSS posts), the fact that Faith wears a white nightgown is not by chance. That the floor tiles in her room are alternating grey and red, is also not by chance. Her bedroom door is also grey. Red and grey also show up in Project #3 along with yellow. Yellow and green are of special significance in Project #1, as are red and white (in that specific combination).

A single number or a single colour can pack a huge amount of significance into seemingly unimportant line of description.

There are many key things I add into my writing, sometimes intentionally, and sometimes they just appear without prior planning. The way I view colour often determines my character's hair colours, as does my obsession with numbers plays a key role in setting, world building or significant points in a character's life. I always love it when a particularly devoted reader picks up on the repetition/importance of these things, just like I love discovering new layers when I re-read a book or watch a movie, though I doubt anyone would pick up on the prime number thing (or much of the other stuff) if I didn't mentioned it. Oh well, at least I'm having fun, right?

I'm curious, what items/things do you wrap with significance in your own writing?

...and yes, I'm aware I'm a little bit crazy.

Six Sentence Sunday 11

Good morning, SSS participants! It's the last Sunday in August, so hopefully everyone is soaking up the last moments of vacation and relaxation.

Double thanks for those who leave comments, especially those who point out where I've made a poor choices in words or grammar.... c'mon, you know you want to...

So last time, things started to fall apart for our friend Simon. He touched Faith's hair, then when she freaked out, he apologized and... here's the next six:

Simon’s hands were up like a shield. Muscles taut, he shifted back and forth on his feet, fighting the urge to run and the equally strong urge to step closer, to use his hands and his voice to soothe her like he would his brother. But it was soon clear that Faith would not be calmed. As her pale cheeks flushed purple with blood and fury, Simon clamped his hands over his ears and fled. He shoved Hector into the hall and slid the door shut. Almost immediately the noise stopped.

Six Sentence Sunday 10

I finally made it to 10!! ...despite the 2 week hiatus...

Welcome back all you SSS participants! I'm excited to go back and catch up on what I missed. If you've been following along, I've been building tension... but since it's been a while, you might want a link reminder of what happened last time (or check out the SSS tab at the top of the page to read from the beginning), this next selection is where things start to blow up in Simon's face:

As his fingers touched a loose curl, Faith whirled around, her hands clenched as she beat him away.

“No!”

It was more of a shriek than a word and in an instant the breakfast tray had been flipped by her flailing limbs. Clams, broth, tea and broken dishes were everywhere and her voice was rising higher and louder until it was simply an ear-splitting wail.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, little princess!”

Six Sentence Sunday 9

It's the last Sunday in July... so what better way to celebrate than to check out all the other Six Sentence Sunday participants!

...and thanks again for those who left comments and offered constructive criticism :) Thanks to one commenter, I was able to figure out why one particular sentence has always bugged me, and that was awesome. For those who have something to say, but are concerned about leaving negative remarks in the comments section... feel free to me-mail! Seriously, I want to know :)

Last time, you met Hector, the younger brother, so here's the next six sentences:

Simon’s stomach flipped and grumbled, but Faith had not touched her meal. Rather, she had curled up even tighter, her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. Her face was scrunched into a scowl of concentration and Simon stole another backward glance at his brother. The hollows in Hector’s cheeks and the gaunt angles of his narrow ribcage showed clearly through the servant’s uniform. Simon’s stomach twisted again, this time from anxiety, and in desperation, he reached out to Faith.

“Y...your hair is in knots, little princess. Why don’t you let me brush it for you.”

I'm going to be skipping the next couple SSS's as I'm taking off to the family cabin where internet is non-existent and even cell signals are spotty.

Oh, one more thing, I created a tab at the top of this page so you can read from the beginning if you so choose. Grammar is definitely my weakest point, so if you find something, nail me :) ...and I'll thank you ;)

Six Sentence Sunday 8

Happy Sunday all you Six Sentence Sunday participants! Grab your coffee, a danish (or maybe the leftover pizza from yesterday) and dig in!

Thank you especially to you lovely commenters :) ...y'know, I like criticism too, 'cause it pushes me to write better :)

Last time, there was world-building (hope I didn't bore you), sorry, there's a tad more this time, but also the introduction of the third main character!

“Are you watching the dredge-line, or the river?”

Simon glanced at Faith, trying to gauge by the angle of her head what exactly she was looking at, but with her blank expression it was impossible to tell what she was focused on. His eyes followed the river north to where it met the sea and, with a shiver, Simon took a step back from the window and turned to look at his younger brother. Hector was leaning against the open doorframe with both hands shoved deep in the pockets of his rough, brown trousers. In the five days since they had come to work at the glass house, Hector had not once spoken to Faith or even entered her room.

Dyslexia sucks

Okay, give me a moment of your empathy...

Spelling is hard enough... I often rely on the *red-idiot-squiggles* to point out the majority of my spelling errors, but recently I have been battling something a normal person might not even think about.

Word verification.

Yup. You've seen it before and probably only think of it as a minor annoyance. When you set up the comment section of your blogs, you have the option to require that people type in a displayed series of letters and numbers to verify that they are, in fact human.

...so, do you realize how in-human I feel when I fail these? Not only once, but often multiple times in a row?

I love participating in Six Sentence Sunday and every week I visit every other site (except for the content-blocked ones with the warning screen) but it takes me a good couple of days to get through them all, mostly 'cause if I'm going to read them, I want to leave a comment, but trying to *win* at word verification is a fast way to a prize migraine, so I have to take a lot of breaks.

Know what also throws me?

Words like:

bow, tear, wound

bow... a weapon? or the male version of a curtsey?

tear... what happens when you cry, or when you rip something apart?

wound... a cut on your skin, or 'wind' in past-tense?

...oh crap, now I've added wind to the list...

...to wrap string/twine/yarn, or currents of air?

So thank heavens for the online dictionary! ...since half the time I look at the words I've written and I get a sudden and horrible inkling that I've used the completely wrong word...

Please tell me this happens to *normal* people too!!

Six Sentence Sunday 7

Hello all you Six Sentence Sunday visitors!

...and anyone else who happened to wander in :)

Last time you got a little one-sided conversation between Simon and Faith, but she was ignoring him and just staring out the window... well, here's the next six for you. Comments, suggestions or rambling tirades that are somewhat constructive are always welcome :)

“What are you looking at?” Simon leaned closer, knowing what he would see, but hoping he could tempt Faith into conversation, or at least stir up some kind of reaction from the girl he had been watching over for the last five days. 

The morning sun had dyed the hills and valley a blazing orange, the same hot, stifling color of molten iron in the factory fires. Far below in the river were dozens of children fighting the currents with loosely woven canvas sacks, their bodies stained brown by mud and sun. Tied like glass beads to long ropes, they worked to dredge mineral-rich silt from the swiftly flowing water. The full bags were passed up to the shore where teams of two and three children dragged them up onto the bank and into the sun to dry. Stacked in neat lines, the water would slowly drain out through the canvas before they were carted off to the glass factory.

Six Sentence Sunday 6

Another fine, summer weekend, another Six Sentence Sunday to enjoy! I know I can't wait to read them all... how about you?

Thanks to everyone who visits each week, and especially those who leave comments :) You totally make my day :)

Last time I introduced you to Simon and Faith, so now you get a bit of (one-sided) dialogue. By the way, just like a few of you commented that Simon doesn't seem like a servant, Faith also *isn't* a princess... he just calls her that.

“Good morning, little princess.”

Though his words and the rattle of the glass door had broken the silence, Faith did not turn, make a noise or even twitch to suggest she was aware of his presence. It was as if she was shut off completely in her own little world.

With cautious steps, Simon crossed the small room and placed a tray by Faith’s side, his breath loud in his ears against the soft clink and clatter of breakfast dishes. The smell of fish broth and salted butter made his mouth water as he stirred a spoonful of precious honey and goat milk into her tea.

“Are you hungry, little princess? It’s your favorite, baked clams.”

Her long black eyelashes were in profile, so still they seemed decorative, like the fine wire jewelry worn by the artisans and factory owners of the glass city.

Six Sentence Sunday 5

It's that time again! Six Sentence Sunday!

Originally, this story was titled 'The Glass City', but regrettably there is another book (already published) called 'City of Glass', which is just too darn close for my liking... so I should think up a new title for this soon, rather than continue to call it Project #2.

Last time you had the fairy-tale opening. For this week, here are the next few sentences which introduce two characters within this glass-city-world. It is intentional that Faith's description has the word 'savage' in there, which carries over the description of the world from last week. Also, the idea of being 'lost' is one of the themes of the story :)

In a glass house by the river, Simon slid open the door to Faith’s bedroom. She was in her usual spot on the window-seat, curled into an embroidered cushion as she stared out the window. Her thin limbs were almost lost in the whiteness of her nightgown and her black curls spilled over one shoulder, savage and tangled from sleep.

As his eyes settled on her hair, Simon touched his chest, his throat, his lips. A reflexive ward against drowning, though an incomplete one. He remembered his place just before spitting a wad of saliva onto the tile floor. Instead, he cleared his throat, taking care to keep his voice low and steady. Appropriate, for a servant.

Six Sentence Sunday 4

Six Sentence Sunday: give in to peer pressure... click the link, read, comment, enjoy.

I'm in the middle of moving, so I'm a little frazzled at the moment, but I have noticed that many SSS contributors have started at the beginning of their stories and post 6 consecutive sentences each week. That way, people can follow the story along.

I think that's pretty cool and wish I'd figured it out sooner rather than just posting random snippets.

...so I'm going to steal it :)

As a bit of a lead up, this is only 5 sentences, but they are set apart from the rest of the text. The reason is, this story is kindof like a dark fairy-tale, so I wanted that sort of stylized, story-time opening. I may or may not keep the entire thing, but for now, this is what's there.

Okay, enough chattering... here are the first 5 sentences of Project #2 :

In the city of glass, there was one stone tower in a garden grown wild. Abandoned and feral, long tongues of ivy and morning glory were devouring the walls, their hungry roots finding holds in the stone that glass could not provide.

No one remembered who had built the tower, or why, or how, for the people only knew how to pour moulds of glass and iron upon which to raise their city. Very few went near the garden, and those that did hurried past it, their eyes averted from the erratic maze of roots and branches. They feared that the irregular leaves and flower petals that grew in oddly regular spirals would somehow invade and corrupt their short, easily measured lives.

Six Sentence Sunday 3

Six Sentence Sunday. Go, read, comment.

...you know you want to :)

For something different, how about 6 sentences from Project #2?

The sun was directly above and there was nowhere to hide from its unrelenting glare. It pounded down onto the streets making the smells stronger, the tiles hotter and the merchants in the marketplace grumpy and intolerant.

Simon’s clothes had almost dried, but the lingering dampness from the river seemed to hang in the material, its humidity like a furnace. The sun was magnified in every drop of moisture on his skin and the heat of Faith’s body against his back only increased his discomfort.

Simon hitched Faith a little higher. It wasn’t what he wanted. She was supposed to be afraid.