I had intended to do some sort of thought-provoking post, but nights of little sleep and grey days aren't conducive to thoughtfulness. Fortunately, though, Katie S. has begun a monthly "story snippets" roundup over at Whisperings of the Pen, and I decided to join in. These are myfebruary snippets
Tip did not answer. The bullet was in place, so he took a better handle on the weapon, which was nearly too small for his hand, and turned so that he was looking down the stretch of battered grey stone to the empty rows forming a half-circle about the stage. There would have been people there, centuries ago, Tip mused, and we could have been the actors.
- the white sail's shaking
It was so dilapidated that the cover dangled by a mere thread and its pages were blistered into the humped form of a whale’s back, but Charlie had it cradled in one hand as though it were a lovely thing, his fingers rubbing absently at the binding.
- the white sail's shaking
Suddenly the fire on the Philadelphia reached her powder, and with a shock that tore the air in a brilliant flash of red the frigate exploded. Sparks and fragments flew upward and then showered the harbor and city like falling stars, lovely and dizzying, and though there was no need, Tip recoiled all the same and instinctively put up a hand as if to protect himself. The debris settled, hissing into the harbor; on the surface of the water the remnants of the Philadelphia still burned angrily, long flaming tongues licking the sky.
- the white sail's shaking
Then the tesser came. It screamed down the tunnel, a formless explosion of light and rain, consuming the grey; and when Alex plunged forward, it consumed her, too.
- tesser 004
And yet [Tip] must have found something, for he laughed—and that, too, was a strange sound—and began to shepherd her on to find Mr. Worth. What strange people are thrown together in this little island world, [Marta] thought as she half-skipped to keep up with him. And I have wrecked on it.
- the white sail's shaking
