Comments on: Training Exercise #23: Permission to Be Very Bad

By: An Exhortation: On Finding Your Voice » The Fiction-Writing Directorate

An Exhortation: On Finding Your Voice » The Fiction-Writing Directorate — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 22:15:09 +0000

[...] several blissful hours with my Muse and my epic poem about President Polk, I decided to repeat Training Exercise #23 several times, for I am a firm believer in training exercises. I sought out the virile embrace of [...]

By: Lida

Lida — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 01:16:47 +0000

Gleeful and exhilarating, Agent Rocket! And Agent Eva, so much glowing! Your work is luminous.

Ardently, ardently,
Lida

By: Eva

Eva — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 20:17:37 +0000

Huzzah!

By: Agent Rocket

Agent Rocket — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 19:56:38 +0000

Eva, I was innocently ensnared by your ardent post. And then I lived happily ever after. Huzzah!

By: Eva

Eva — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 20:19:32 +0000

Agent Rocket, that’s delightfully horrid!! Especially the nose hair!

By: Eva

Eva — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 20:18:55 +0000

“I’m in love!” Ruby sighed, tossing her dark tresses innocently over her creamy shoulder. Glancing upon a mirror, she noted her own lovely eyes, brown and rich as a Hershey’s Dark chocolate bar. Rupert found those eyes more enchanting than she knew. Ruby wondered innocently how he might feel about her. It consumed her thoughts for hours, as she wandered thoughtfully around her fancy dwelling. I will win her love! thought Rupert fervently, though Ruby had no knowledge of his ardent feelings. She felt the warm glow of her own love, but had no clue of Ruperts own warm glow of love toward her, his ardent feelings. She thought, I must devise a plan for ensnaring him! And then she did, and they lived happily ever after. The end.

By: Agent Rocket

Agent Rocket — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 06:16:19 +0000

The spider’s name was Mathilde. That’s what it told Sarah, anyway, when it tickled lickity split up her arm, like a skeeter . “Don’t scream, little girl,” the spider said cunningly, or perhaps it said it worryingly, as it flexed a leg as thin as a nose hair.

“It’s pointing at me,” Sarah thought, and realized how much she loathed it when people pointed at her. Perhaps she would scream obscenities and stamp her Mary Janes and squish that shiny black spider into glistening mush. But she was tired of crying, and felt far too exhausted to scream anyway, so she grasped the wriggling thing in her grubby fingers, and ate Mathilde.