You shouldn't get me started. I have a million snippetsb from pieces I'm in the middle, no longer remember what I was doing or am currently stuck on. So here goes:
the opening of one piece:
She liked to sit in cemeteries.
She was aware that most people would find that creepy at best, downright morbid at worst. It wasn't that many years ago when she wouldn't have been caught dead in a graveyard herself (and she smiled a little at that because she has been caught dead in the past or at the very least buried dead), they were spooky, icky places that boys boldly stomped through after they had been double dared. And then, she wound up spending entirely too much time in them, life passing her by because she was too busy battling evil.
Next bit was entirely rewritten and wound up in my fic Called, which is about the first time Angel saw Buffy. When he was ten, he had skipped school one day, the perfect azure of the sky and the deep shadows of the forest promising him adventure and delight. He remembers he chased a rabbit and then a fox, both easily eluding him. He climbed trees and swam nude in the creek and afterward, stretched out in the meadow, letting the sun dry him. He lay under that perfect, cloudless sky and thought of the life he would have. He liked to go to Galway bay and talk to the sailors. Someday, he would leave this town and sail to Italy. He felt sure that his artistic talent would be immediately recognized and he would spend his days painting pictures of noblemen.
The rewrite was much stronger (it wound up being about a fox hunt) but there's still elements here I like which might get recycled some day.
and finally, the opening from a story that I will finish one day!
The vile stench of piss and shit, blood and vomit forced him from unconsciousness, the burning pain in his gut sharpening his memory of the last few hours. He slowly pushed off the concrete floor, gritty -
- sand squishing between his toes. He shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare, everything was so bright that the water appeared to have a halo skimming its surface. He turned and watched as she carefully spread out the beach blanket.
“You think we used enough sun screen on the baby?” “Considering that you used half the bottle, I’m guessing yes.” “Are you mocking me?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “No. Definitely no. After all, who better to be the sun expert?” “Now I know you’re mocking me.” Before she protested, he grabbed her close and kissed her. “Eeww. Yuck. Disgusto.” He pulled away and grinned at his oldest. “Yup, it certainly was.”
- dirt pressed into his palms. His lips pressed together in a grim smile. Always one last twist that you didn’t see coming. The middle of the floor was now open to the sky but no sunlight was visible, only the shadows of the night. He blinked several times, trying to sharpen his focus in the dim light.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-02-26 03:38 am (UTC)the opening of one piece:
She liked to sit in cemeteries.
She was aware that most people would find that creepy at best, downright morbid at worst. It wasn't that many years ago when she wouldn't have been caught dead in a graveyard herself (and she smiled a little at that because she has been caught dead in the past or at the very least buried dead), they were spooky, icky places that boys boldly stomped through after they had been double dared. And then, she wound up spending entirely too much time in them, life passing her by because she was too busy battling evil.
Next bit was entirely rewritten and wound up in my fic Called, which is about the first time Angel saw Buffy.
When he was ten, he had skipped school one day, the perfect azure of the sky and the deep shadows of the forest promising him adventure and delight. He remembers he chased a rabbit and then a fox, both easily eluding him. He climbed trees and swam nude in the creek and afterward, stretched out in the meadow, letting the sun dry him. He lay under that perfect, cloudless sky and thought of the life he would have. He liked to go to Galway bay and talk to the sailors. Someday, he would leave this town and sail to Italy. He felt sure that his artistic talent would be immediately recognized and he would spend his days painting pictures of noblemen.
The rewrite was much stronger (it wound up being about a fox hunt) but there's still elements here I like which might get recycled some day.
and finally, the opening from a story that I will finish one day!
The vile stench of piss and shit, blood and vomit forced him from unconsciousness, the burning pain in his gut sharpening his memory of the last few hours. He slowly pushed off the concrete floor, gritty -
- sand squishing between his toes. He shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare, everything was so bright that the water appeared to have a halo skimming its surface. He turned and watched as she carefully spread out the beach blanket.
“You think we used enough sun screen on the baby?”
“Considering that you used half the bottle, I’m guessing yes.”
“Are you mocking me?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“No. Definitely no. After all, who better to be the sun expert?”
“Now I know you’re mocking me.” Before she protested, he grabbed her close and kissed her.
“Eeww. Yuck. Disgusto.”
He pulled away and grinned at his oldest. “Yup, it certainly was.”
- dirt pressed into his palms. His lips pressed together in a grim smile. Always one last twist that you didn’t see coming. The middle of the floor was now open to the sky but no sunlight was visible, only the shadows of the night. He blinked several times, trying to sharpen his focus in the dim light.