jennickels (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jennickels) wrote2011-05-15 10:15 am
jennickels) wrote2011-05-15 10:15 am
Entry tags:
six sentences on Sunday
~*~Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.~*~
Today I'm doing the first 6 sentences on page 2 of each story (just for the fun of it).
Finished:
(from So Wrong--finished but not published yet)
(from Blame it on the Heat)
(from the Personal Journal of Daniel Jackson)
In Progress:
(from the almost finished Snippets of Millers Kill)
(unfinished story#5 of alt!reality series)
(unfinished Russ/Clare fic)
(unfinished NaNo novel)
Today I'm doing the first 6 sentences on page 2 of each story (just for the fun of it).
Finished:
(from So Wrong--finished but not published yet)
"I don't think Daniel wants to go." But the look on Daniel's face said otherwise. "Oh fine, whatever. Can we just get this done."
"At least you only have one in there," Daniel muttered.
"What was that?"
(from We're Going to Need a Bigger Nursery)"At least you only have one in there," Daniel muttered.
"What was that?"
Jack was almost as shocked by the doc's revelation as by Carter's earlier announcement. "Oh? You two are..." He waved back and forth between them.
Daniel swallowed hard. "It was just that one time. After P3R-222."
Daniel swallowed hard. "It was just that one time. After P3R-222."
(from Blame it on the Heat)
"Sir, what are you doing?"
"What?" Jack asked, confused. She gave him a questioning look, her eyes raking over his body. He glanced down at his bare chest. His socks and boots had joined his other things in a sweaty pile in the dirt. He dug his toes into the soft grass.
"What?" Jack asked, confused. She gave him a questioning look, her eyes raking over his body. He glanced down at his bare chest. His socks and boots had joined his other things in a sweaty pile in the dirt. He dug his toes into the soft grass.
(from the Personal Journal of Daniel Jackson)
I don't like the way he looks at me or the predatory gleam in his eye when Sam is around. She doesn't see it. Kawalsky does. He just laughs, though. At least he's not openly hostile towards me.
I'm not sure what my time here will bring.
I'm not sure what my time here will bring.
In Progress:
(from the almost finished Snippets of Millers Kill)
"Must have been a beautiful spot." She closes her eyes and tries to imagine the orchard in it's hayday, trees full and green, the smell of fruit wafting in the air.
"I used to sneak over here in high school. We'd all spread out in the orchard and play Blind Man's Bluff. Well," he pauses and grins crookedly, "a version of it anyway."
"Lots of alcohol?"
"I used to sneak over here in high school. We'd all spread out in the orchard and play Blind Man's Bluff. Well," he pauses and grins crookedly, "a version of it anyway."
"Lots of alcohol?"
(unfinished story#5 of alt!reality series)
"Just look at him. He's a... geek. They are seriously lacking in social skills and-"
"Major-"
"Present company excluded," he added with a grin. Sam rolled her eyes which just seemed to encourage him further.
"Major-"
"Present company excluded," he added with a grin. Sam rolled her eyes which just seemed to encourage him further.
(unfinished Russ/Clare fic)
"She's gone into labor," Harlene blurted out, almost sounding relieved at finally giving her message.
"What! She's not due for another eight weeks." He mashed on the gas, using his elbow to press the window button down. Still holding the mic in his other hand he grabbed for the light and somehow managed to get it on top of the truck and turn it on without dropping his phone, the mic or swerving off the road. All those high speed driving courses paying off, he thought.
"What! She's not due for another eight weeks." He mashed on the gas, using his elbow to press the window button down. Still holding the mic in his other hand he grabbed for the light and somehow managed to get it on top of the truck and turn it on without dropping his phone, the mic or swerving off the road. All those high speed driving courses paying off, he thought.
(unfinished NaNo novel)
Striker whirled on the man, his eyes flashing a brilliant white in anger. "Do as I say," he commanded with all the authority his resonating voice demanded.
Crisham quickly backed out of the room, barely contained terror on his face. "Yes, sir," he mumbled as he left, hurrying away to relay the orders.
Striker once again schooled his face, a rehearsed blank look replacing his momentary rage. He slowly turned back to the door, his hands once again held leisurely at his back.
Crisham quickly backed out of the room, barely contained terror on his face. "Yes, sir," he mumbled as he left, hurrying away to relay the orders.
Striker once again schooled his face, a rehearsed blank look replacing his momentary rage. He slowly turned back to the door, his hands once again held leisurely at his back.