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Why stop when you've had enough?
Oct. 22nd, 2011 01:39 pmI really don't know what to do with myself, at the end of a book. Never mind that this is the only day I have before I travel; never mind that I am going far away, and really ought to set the house to rights and pack a suitcase and and and.
Pandaemonium, by Ben Macallan:
Just a couple of pages, just to get it started.
They were going to hang my boyfriend up by his heels and bleed all the life out of him, and they thought I’d want to watch.
No. Almost all of that is true, but none of it is right.
No. Almost all of that is right, but none of it is true. He was not my boyfriend, and it wasn’t his life they were taking, not really. Just his blood. And they just assumed that I’d stay, because - well, it was a privilege they granted me. I should be grateful, apparently.
They were his parents, and they thought I should be grateful.
Pandaemonium, by Ben Macallan:
607 / 95000 words. 0.6% done!
Just a couple of pages, just to get it started.
They were going to hang my boyfriend up by his heels and bleed all the life out of him, and they thought I’d want to watch.
No. Almost all of that is true, but none of it is right.
No. Almost all of that is right, but none of it is true. He was not my boyfriend, and it wasn’t his life they were taking, not really. Just his blood. And they just assumed that I’d stay, because - well, it was a privilege they granted me. I should be grateful, apparently.
They were his parents, and they thought I should be grateful.