Well, it's day 12 already, and my word count is definitely not as high as I wished it to be. 2,553 words... yup!
So, this is the very first post this month! February is a very odd month. Why? Look at how you spell it. February. If you sound it out, it sounds like Feb-rue-ary.
Anyway, as the title explains... here's an excerpt of my Short Story! While it is not drafted, and I have only looked once or twice. So, here it is!
Chapter 1.
The stale leaves of autumn crunched under our feet as we headed for Stephen’s home. I quickly handed him his paper bearing the title: “God Loves You” before we arrived at the Fairfield’s large door.
Stephen’s hand reached for the door, but it swung upon before his fingers touched the cold metal, sliding over its oiled hinges to reveal Misses Fairfield.
Her cold glance shot shivers down my back, the pale, hard eyes drove themselves in like a nail beneath a hammer. Something about her gave me a stomach lurching poison inside me, her eyes, predominately, though her dyed hair, streaks of a dirty brown mixed with a bright almost white blond, told me much of her person in and of itself.
This is from the very beginning, so, yeah!
I WILL post some writing tips soon, but that'll be tomorrow.
~The WordWeaver
P.S. Sorry for no posts for the past few days. Weebly, the host of this blog, was down, so while you could get on and see older posts, I couldn't blog new posts. ;(
So, this is the very first post this month! February is a very odd month. Why? Look at how you spell it. February. If you sound it out, it sounds like Feb-rue-ary.
Anyway, as the title explains... here's an excerpt of my Short Story! While it is not drafted, and I have only looked once or twice. So, here it is!
Chapter 1.
The stale leaves of autumn crunched under our feet as we headed for Stephen’s home. I quickly handed him his paper bearing the title: “God Loves You” before we arrived at the Fairfield’s large door.
Stephen’s hand reached for the door, but it swung upon before his fingers touched the cold metal, sliding over its oiled hinges to reveal Misses Fairfield.
Her cold glance shot shivers down my back, the pale, hard eyes drove themselves in like a nail beneath a hammer. Something about her gave me a stomach lurching poison inside me, her eyes, predominately, though her dyed hair, streaks of a dirty brown mixed with a bright almost white blond, told me much of her person in and of itself.
This is from the very beginning, so, yeah!
I WILL post some writing tips soon, but that'll be tomorrow.
~The WordWeaver
P.S. Sorry for no posts for the past few days. Weebly, the host of this blog, was down, so while you could get on and see older posts, I couldn't blog new posts. ;(
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