I've been working on this story, on and off for the last couple years. I'm working to finish it, because I've decided to publish it as essentially web graffiti, as part of this: shiftspace.org. Possibly as a serial. I'm still in rough draft stage, but I'm pretty sure of the opening:
We descended on the city, three dark birds with wings of leather, scavengers to pick this corpse clean of revelry and rue.
I feel her lean into me before her hand covers the pages of my notebook. Her lips brush my ear.
“I hope its sordid, and I hope I'm in it.”
The scent of leather envelopes us. Pressure builds in my ears from the descent. She kisses my cheek. I do not turn my head to look across her at Jon. She removes her hand from my journal. In the dim lighting of the cabin, the pages are a jaundiced yellow. I continue writing.
3 comments:
I like it.
I like it also. I feel like I'm "in." I don't know what the role of the italicized words will be, but I dig the contrast between the sort of, I don't know, artsy-ness of those words with the solid realistic description of experience in the rest of it.
Nice.
So far, so good :-)
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