makes jack a dull boy
May. 12th, 2003 11:43 pmCripes, work is running me ragged. No time for all the writing I want to get done. At least I managed this:
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Because It Is Bitter
He took the boy's stretched, bony wrist, and with his thumb, he felt his pulse. Felt their pulses together for a moment: anxious adolescent staccato, and his own rhythm-- thready now, but not faltering. Never faltering.
The bonfire vomited orange sparks, then quieted. Night air. Sweat.
He tightened his grip until he couldn't feel either pulse anymore. Thin blue veins crushed under his thumb. He pulled the boy's arm straight-- harder than he'd meant to, and living fingers brushed against his robes. The boy sucked in a shallow breath through his teeth.
Clean white forearm, like a blank page. He touched his forefinger to the boy's skin-- then dug in deeper, drawing his mark. Blood welled up. Slowly-- like ink.
He looked into the boy's face. Young black eyes wide and gleaming, thin lips slightly parted. Unflinching. Desperate. Desirous.
"Am I hurting you?" Voldemort asked softly.
Staring like a predator, Snape whispered his answer: "No."
end.
---
Short-shorts are tough for me, but probably good for me too. From what folks have said, it sounds like I'm at my best when I'm concise. I'm impressed with people who can get something of substance said in such a tiny space (I'm looking in your direction, bardsmaid :> ).
---
Because It Is Bitter
He took the boy's stretched, bony wrist, and with his thumb, he felt his pulse. Felt their pulses together for a moment: anxious adolescent staccato, and his own rhythm-- thready now, but not faltering. Never faltering.
The bonfire vomited orange sparks, then quieted. Night air. Sweat.
He tightened his grip until he couldn't feel either pulse anymore. Thin blue veins crushed under his thumb. He pulled the boy's arm straight-- harder than he'd meant to, and living fingers brushed against his robes. The boy sucked in a shallow breath through his teeth.
Clean white forearm, like a blank page. He touched his forefinger to the boy's skin-- then dug in deeper, drawing his mark. Blood welled up. Slowly-- like ink.
He looked into the boy's face. Young black eyes wide and gleaming, thin lips slightly parted. Unflinching. Desperate. Desirous.
"Am I hurting you?" Voldemort asked softly.
Staring like a predator, Snape whispered his answer: "No."
end.
---
Short-shorts are tough for me, but probably good for me too. From what folks have said, it sounds like I'm at my best when I'm concise. I'm impressed with people who can get something of substance said in such a tiny space (I'm looking in your direction, bardsmaid :> ).
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Date: 2003-05-13 05:43 am (UTC)(I don't know if you're aware, but there are communities which exist to produce very short pieces--100 words--as challenges in various fandoms. The Potter one is called "hp100" I think.)
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Date: 2003-05-13 09:00 am (UTC)I was vaguely aware of hp100; I'll go check it out.
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Date: 2003-05-13 03:12 pm (UTC)Good job!!
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Date: 2003-05-14 11:56 am (UTC)By the way, did I mention I love that icon? Too funny. :>
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Date: 2003-05-14 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-05 09:55 am (UTC)o_O
The Voldie POV and the arm like the page(diary! diary!) and the Snape who is willing to find a way to evil but who is also desperate and the heart that is weak but never never falters! Have you shown this to switchknife?
*wanders off, thoroughly disturbed with self*
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Date: 2004-09-28 08:17 pm (UTC)I think the goal, as Vanzetti says, is to tell a whole story in your short piece. I happened to come across the first XF 155, btw, and it was an absolute nothing; the author had simply written until he ran out of things to say in a very simplistic, unremarkable tale. But the true merit and art of the 155 (or equivalent) is to have a whole story, and to distill and distill it until it fits perfectly into the required word format, like a gem artfully set into a ring.
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Date: 2004-10-01 10:41 pm (UTC)And thanks, I'm glad you liked mine.
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Date: 2004-10-01 10:57 pm (UTC)http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Stargate/4580/brandon1.htm
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Amazing that a form that has produced such memorable ficlets when properly handled (I'm very fond of Spica's 'Lastochka', for example)started out as a piece of totally uninspired, straight-out-of-the-box MSR.