Write on Round Three!
You know the drill ladies. If your lines are posted below, you have until midnight pacific time this Friday to post your next lines. Also, my judge for this last round did a fabulous job critiquing the lines she culled (made my comments look like a first grader’s). I plan to post the lines and her comments Wednesday. If your line was culled and you do not want it posted with the comments please email me at Karin@KarinTabke.com and let me know by tomorrow night.
1. The mahogany coffin rested eerily over the wounded earth, the deep fissure as hollow as the hearts of the two mourners. The reptilian slit of the man’s eyes stared past the spray of wild flowers adorning its lid to his stepmother cowered on the opposite side.
2. “Face it, the only reason she could possibly have for marrying that old fart is to get her hands on his money.”
Nissa Hagan backed out of the ladies room, letting the door close quietly behind her.
3. “I’m not giving her this.” I stared in horror at the inscription on the back of the huge diamond tennis bracelet, the curvy, flowing writing a mix of sentimentality and ownership.
4. The first time he had put the moves on her she let it go but the second time, she shot him.
Unfortunately for her, the bullet just grazed his ear and when he recovered from the shock that she had shot at him, she couldn’t run fast enough.
5. “Betrothed…you can’t be serious!”
Calvin O’Donnell watched his daughter jump to her feet, knocking the chair to the floor.
6. She couldn’t believe it had come to this. All the years of hoping and training, the long struggle to conquer her powers and her heart as she pursued her childhood dream.
7. During the course of his quest, Dair Curator had lost count of the number of women he’d slept with. He didn’t care if he’d gotten a reputation for being a womanizer.
8. Shivering in the half-light, Mary Jones was assaulted by the futility of her life.
The heat was off again; last week, the electricity wouldn’t work.
9. Death permeated the air in the post-WWII bungalow as Sara Cooper walked through the front door and dropped her backpack on the floor. “Crap, another dead mouse stuck in the damn wall.”
10. Whoever said princesses couldn’t grow up to become killers was a liar.
At age fifteen, Princess Kryssandra Ashwyrai had killed her first man.
11. In recent nights, the hunger had grown overwhelming. The ache gnawed at my gut and played across my nerves, making me restless.
12. “Un-believable,” Ethan said as he threw his pen on his desk in disgust and pinned his assistant with a stare that made grown men’s balls shrivel. “Un-fucking-believable.”
13. He found her just before sunrise.
Icy shivers slid down the back of Reyn’s neck as he stormed towards the inert figure on the ground.
14. “Pull out, pull out, please pull out,” she moaned. Knees aching and her back screaming with pain, Lana knew she couldn’t take much more.
15. Kaitlin McKenzie stared down at her red-slicked hands and swallowed the pain; who knew a female body could lose so much blood! Ironic really; nine years in the field, surviving five shoot-outs and a knife fight and she was going to die from a bird attack.
16. For someone with Kate Atkinson’s unique talent, finding England’s most infamous pirate had been easy. Catching him, however, was proving more challenging as Black Jack Snow darted like a cat between the bawdy houses, ale houses and hovels squatting along the south bank of the Thames.
17. And then she smelled it!
She struggled to get up but her knees buckled and she slid to the floor, inhaling the acrid odor that grew stronger with each labored breath.
18. It happened as the third of them started on her.
She didn’t understand why, she had long since given up fighting them.
19. As I forced my eyes to open, despite the thick crust gluing them shut, I knew one thing was certain â€“ I was dying. I attempted to extricate myself from my deathbed only to find I was somehow being restrained.
20. “You want me to do what?” Kirby Jensen’s stomach flopped as she realized her best friend, Tish Cavendish, had finally lost her ever-loving mind.
21. Lindani didn’t run from anything, even a monster in the sea.
He blinked the wind-thrown rain from his eyes and leant over the cliff, his heart thundering along with the sky.
22. He floated headless in a mist of tears. Even the river’s roar was not enough to mask the scream, so piercing was it and so unnatural that it silenced the never silent land.
23. “Run that by me again, and try not to sound like you’ve lost your mind.” Miranda Corbett glanced to the scant outfit clutched in the crazy man’s hand, then again met his gaze.
24. There was only one coherent thought in Francesca’s mind as she huddled on the closed toilet seat, twisting her hour-old wedding ring. She needed to get the hell out, and fast.
25. I bucked and twisted to shake off the men pinning my arms against a rough brick wall. Dim-witted and foul-smelling, the brutes mocked my efforts until a third man emerged from the alley’s shadows, clutched my throat, and touched something cold and smooth to my forehead.
26. Emma Morris looked out the back window of Zelda’s Magical Diner at the rows of tomato plants heavy with the red fruit, and something free and wild inside her unfurled. The lush garden mesmerized her, so different from the hardscrabble Texas ground she’d known until she was fifteen and her parents bundled her off to her aunt Zelda in Wisconsin.
27. At the moment of his death Alexander Detweiler didn’t find God, or see the welcoming smile of his dead sister, or experience that all but clichÃ©d brilliant halo of white light. He awoke to Armageddon instead.
28. “You look like a man who knows how to be wicked.”
Theron tore his gaze from the crowded club he’d been scanning and looked toward the bleach-blond bombshell rubbing like a cat against his arm.
29. Jenna Montgomery shot from a deep sleep with her daughter’s shriek rattling her brain.
“Mom-meeeeee, help meeeee!”
30. Nick jumped as someone’s fingers slid down the back of his jeans. His hand jerked and his signature turned into a scrawl across the Rolling Stone cover.
31. Remorse, the malicious shit, saddled up and rode Sierra Talbot’s heels like a haunted horse the day she blew back into the heart of Simon, Michigan.
A town she hadn’t seen or lived in for five years.
32. It seemed ironic that his own marriage should come undone at a house party whose sole purpose was to celebrate the promise of another.
From where he stood in his friend’s library, Marcus Elliot, the Duke of Westbrook, was able to stare out the library window and at the view beyond.
33. Dr. Ava Monroe listened intently as the subject screamed in pain. She held the man’s hand in place and watched his face contort in response to the stimulus.
34. “Ever heard the phrase ‘out of the frying pan into the fire’?” Dan muttered as we stared at the huge black mirrored doors.
“You know, that’s what I love about you, always the optimist,” I said, trying to convince myself there was no reason for my reflection to look so nervous.
35. I squeezed the trigger, the noise of the gun nearly deafening in the confined space of the elevator. My legs trembled as I made my way over to where he lay, sprawled on the parking garage floor.
36. “Oh my God,” Clea cried, staring down at the telephone receiver. Horror crawled down her spine like cold fingers; Xander Valente was back!
37. I was standing there naked when a dead man sauntered into my bathroon.
Sauntered, not shambled.
38. It’s hard to have a life when you’re the Angel of Death.
Aletta shimmered into the center of Orlando, metamorphosed into her usual human form, and watched and waited as more people died.
39. Bloody slave labour! That’s what it is.
40. They spied the dog first, lean, long-legged and pale as a moonbeam in the darkness. It passed through the woodland like a wraith, gliding silently from one night shadow to the next as Hugo de Mercure watched from the battlements â€“ and waited.
41. Shattered like a goblet on a tile floor, Sarah Wild’s dreams lay in a tattered heap of shredded white silk and gossamer tulle. Her dress went from bridal perfection to remnants for the ragbag with her quick frenzy of ripping and tearing.
42. Ringing phones and telegrams only brought bad news. At two AM, it was guaranteed.
43. Chocolate was made for moments like this. Standing for the first time on a Japanese street corner, I reached into my purse for the Hershey Kiss I had stashed in the zipper compartment for emergencies, but came up with a handful of brown ooze and an empty foil wrapper.
44. Lissa, Princess of Horvald, waited for Death. She stood, still and silent in the dank chill of the Great Hall, determined to meet her fate without cowering in fear.
45. Edward Sarkins placed his rough, ashy hand on the counter of his small booth. I handed the old peddler the ten gold coins a customer had stolen from him two days ago.
46. It was right around 10 p.m. that I realized merry widows were made to be ripped off right away, not to be worn for an all-night TV marathon.
When I’d first put on the incredibly revealing costume—come-fuck-me red lace, satin garters complete with bows, and enough bone and underwire to heft my generous Ds to unbelievable heights—I was thinking about looking hot, not the practicalities of actually wearing it.
47. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.” Rayne mumbled against the serving girl’s ample bosom, grabbed at and knocked over his mug of ale and then, on cue, pretended to pass out.
48. I stared at the nine men of my supposed dreams. Of my nightmares, more like, and theirs too judging by their stunned expressions as they stared back at me.
49. The blood splattered on Maribel Thompson’s pillow and drying on her hand wasn’t hers, and neither were the boxer briefs tangled in her sheets. Her alarm clock lay dead on the floor, its cord snaked between shards of mirror and a trail of blood.
50. Something was wrong and had been for quite a while now. Exactly what, I had no idea, but it had to be big for me to be summoned up Here.
51. He’d heard of fairies at the bottom of the garden, but this one was in his lounge room, and practically naked. Tall, slender and soaking wet, a pair of torn wings in her hand.
52. The frilly bedroom had been recently decorated in red â€“ blood red. Panicked, Samantha Blair struggled to move; this wasn’t her room or her bed and it sure as hell wasn’t her body.
53. “Ah, baby, that’s it…just a little…um, yeah…” he urged, his low ragged moan changing to a satisfied growl. Sweat droplets beaded around his receding, yet still dark hairline, and if he opened his eyes to look at her on top of him he would think she was enjoying herself as wellâ€“she’d slid her lips into a sexy smile to hide her revulsion.
54. Finding anyone on a reservation is never easy, even someone dead. Map labels and road signs were never part of this world.
55. Nothing but forest–miles and miles of forest–stretched out in front of her. After wasting four hours of daylight climbing up the ridge she’d hoped to see more, a distant ribbon of highway, a lone radio tower, anything manmade that would point her way back to civilization.