Friday, September 7, 2012

Point Of View


 "The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be......"

He sighed.  Crumpled the looseleaf.  Began again.
  
“Night gnawed the last slice of dusk where it fell.  Hem in hand, she stepped barefoot through the glass, knowing languor is the mother of perdition."

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Trifextra Week Thirty-Two -

For this weekend's challenge, we'd like you to read the 33 words below and then add 33 of your own words to move the story along.
   
"The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be......"
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14 comments:

  1. If i was in charge of the nobel prizes .. i would award you every last one of them.
    Your words always take the wind out of me.

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  2. Wonderful! Loved the the frustration of the writer besote with purple prose.

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  3. Very nice take on the prompt. We all have our baskets of crumpled notes and frustrated scribbles.

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  4. Very interesting take. She had no choice but to walk through the glass. Beautiful!

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  5. 'Languor is the mother of perdition' is a wonderful phrase! It kind of rolls off the tongue.

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  6. Oh I like the way you did that! :D

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  7. I like what you did with this one - such a unique take on the prompt.

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  8. I don't think he crumbles up this one!

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  9. perfect word choice. the last sentence is spectacular.

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  10. When in doubt start all over again? Languor. I love that word. It needs to be pronounced slowly with emphasis.

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  11. Great idea on this post. Well done.

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