A few of my favorite passages from the current story I am reading.
This group was formed of what appeared to be either performers or whores. I have never been much able to discern the difference between the professions. In this case they were brightly garbed in silks and perfumed strongly enough to give fear to skunks.
They looked over the fields from whence the girl had come and saw a cloud pouring over the moon and rushing towards them. This cloud moved with a roaring like a thousand screaming souls. As it came closer, the sharpest eyes among them began to see the shapes that made up this cloud. The beating of wings. Crows, ravens and vultures in a gargantuan flock. Among them, like pox marks upon the face of a leper were even darker things. Creatures never seen in field or tree in nature. Like unto birds of prey but with shadows streaming from their feathers and a glow of violet in their eyes. Death flew towards the people that night on wings of shadow and fear.
“If a tiger places feathers in it’s rectum and quacks, it does not become a duck Thomas. Must I show you the way again?”
The following chapter,
chapter 4: Quacking tiger, hidden duck
I have said that I am not known for being loquacious. Jonas is only a little more talkative than I, and our Lady had not yet given us the gift of her voice in speech. Meredith made up for our lack with fervor. From sun up, when we gathered our gear to leave, until the late afternoon when we reached the base of Wizard’s Peak, she chattered. She rambled and twittered about nothing and everything. Her hopes to be a mage. The farm where she grew up. The color of the winter sky. No number of fierce glares from me would slow her prattle. It did not help matters that Jonas laughed at her least humor.
“We seek safety and knowledge Master Greylock, not to assault your ears with racket.”
“And a good thing that is, I have a feeling the young lady there will have worn my ears into paste after a decade or two.”
With his mention and glare directed at her, Meredith paled. “Me sir?”
“No, the other girl here who speaks as though the stones listen. If you are to be my apprentice, you must be a bit more nimble minded than that.”
Meredith stammered a bit, and finding nothing more useful to say let out a simple “Yes sir” and fell silent again.
It is really quite good writing, I think. I imagine other fine published authors had some read their work before they were first published. I have always thought that unpublished works of unpublished authors were all those of amateurs. I suppose that is true by definition, but I realize now that not all, if most, unpublished works, are of amateur quality writing.
See SouthSamurai if you think it might be cool to some day say, "yea I read some of that guys stories, before he was ever published." Don't worry to mention where you read it, they wont believe you with out that info, much less with it. :lol: