A Million Little Pieces
Does every writer have a million scraps of story lying around, or is it just me? Because I'm filling notebooks (digitally and literally) with stuff, but it's not even coherent enough to be a drabble yet. And yes, lengthwise, they could be. But even with a drabble, I want a story to be told! *frustrated breath*
She turned her face away, but didn't let go, resting her head against the side of his face as they both panted for breath. He tensed for a moment, and she sensed he was about to move away, probably already overthinking the whole thing, so she turned her lips to touch his neck and tightened her grip on his shoulders. "Please," she whispered, barely audible, because saying things like 'please' was just not something Alex Russo did. But it worked.
Justin let out a deep breath that ruffled the hair on the side of her head and merely shifted his hands so that they rested higher, just between her shoulder blades, a position they'd been in for a thousand hugs before. Only she'd never had the memory of his lips burned to hers, or felt such a strong desire to lick the sweat from his neck, before.
~
The top was tight fitted scarlet leather with black beads running down the center in a slanted pattern. Below the corset were alternating layers of black tafetta edged in gold and red silk a much brighter shade than the dark, scarlet leather. Black fingerless gloves covered her arms to nearly the elbow. Alex, being Alex, wore a pair of black skull earrings and a matching necklace that fit close to her throat. High heeled boots made her appear taller than she was.
She looked nothing like the rest of the girls in his class in their pastel princess gowns. Of course, next to Harper's multihued concoction, she looked downright sedate.
~
If Justin hadn't determined, years ago, that 'Dirty Dan' from Music World wasn't a wizard, he'd have thought the man used magic on his instruments. Reaching back slightly, Justin patted his old guitar and smiled to himself as he walked. It was good to be home for the summer.
Out of nowhere, a motorcycle cut a path on the sidewalk in front of him and swerved sharply to merge with the traffic on the street. Heart in his throat, Justin jumped back, instinctively spreading his arms to prevent any other pedestrians from being hit by the maniac cyclist.
I have quite a bit more than this but I think that those might actually end up being stories. Not that these bits couldn't ...
She turned her face away, but didn't let go, resting her head against the side of his face as they both panted for breath. He tensed for a moment, and she sensed he was about to move away, probably already overthinking the whole thing, so she turned her lips to touch his neck and tightened her grip on his shoulders. "Please," she whispered, barely audible, because saying things like 'please' was just not something Alex Russo did. But it worked.
Justin let out a deep breath that ruffled the hair on the side of her head and merely shifted his hands so that they rested higher, just between her shoulder blades, a position they'd been in for a thousand hugs before. Only she'd never had the memory of his lips burned to hers, or felt such a strong desire to lick the sweat from his neck, before.
~
The top was tight fitted scarlet leather with black beads running down the center in a slanted pattern. Below the corset were alternating layers of black tafetta edged in gold and red silk a much brighter shade than the dark, scarlet leather. Black fingerless gloves covered her arms to nearly the elbow. Alex, being Alex, wore a pair of black skull earrings and a matching necklace that fit close to her throat. High heeled boots made her appear taller than she was.
She looked nothing like the rest of the girls in his class in their pastel princess gowns. Of course, next to Harper's multihued concoction, she looked downright sedate.
~
If Justin hadn't determined, years ago, that 'Dirty Dan' from Music World wasn't a wizard, he'd have thought the man used magic on his instruments. Reaching back slightly, Justin patted his old guitar and smiled to himself as he walked. It was good to be home for the summer.
Out of nowhere, a motorcycle cut a path on the sidewalk in front of him and swerved sharply to merge with the traffic on the street. Heart in his throat, Justin jumped back, instinctively spreading his arms to prevent any other pedestrians from being hit by the maniac cyclist.
I have quite a bit more than this but I think that those might actually end up being stories. Not that these bits couldn't ...