« 4.27.07 | Main | David: Epic(ac) »

April 27, 2007

Jim: Senus Fugit

The sun hung like a hot, molten orange against the desert sky’s blueness while small desert creatures slept, panting in their burrows, except for those who were scurrying around from rock shadow to rock shadow trying to pry small seeds - shriveled dry – off of the few brown plants sprouting from the shifting sand.

With his shirtsleeve, Jacob wiped beads of sweat from his wrinkled brow and grimaced down the straight highway to the horizon where it vanished in shimmering waves of heat. He suddenly grinned and retrieved a pistol from the truck’s wreckage.

A car would pass by soon.

Bookmark: del.icio.usDiggreddit


No, see, you blew it with the second and third paragraphs...those are *good* and make me want to read the story. :)

Posted by: Stacy at April 27, 2007 7:23 AM · Permalink

Reminds me of "The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer," (from Red Badge of Courage) which I've long held as the worst sentence ever written. Kudos for giving it a run for its money.

Posted by: Tanya at April 27, 2007 10:38 AM · Permalink

Check before you post!