|Nothing in particular.|
Nietzsche Contemplates the Meaning of ChristmasNietzsche eyed the gaudy Christmas decorations. The pressure of providing all the people he knew with gifts weighed heavily and he once more wondered what the point of it all was.Nietzsche Contemplates the Meaning of Christmas by Vocable
Around him were people like him, shopping for Christmas gifts to show the people they knew they cared about them. But unlike him, they were constantly in motion, shoving against each other, searching and purchasing. The shopping mall was filled and Nietzsche felt he was the only one not caught in the fervor of Christmas.
He stepped outside to the parking lot to properly monologue.
"What is the point?" Nietzsche wondered to himself out loud. "What is the meaning of all this? Surely, Christmas is more than about its presents?"
"You're right," a voice behind Nietzsche said.
Nietzsche whirled around in surprise. "Jesus Christ!"
"That's right," Jesus Christ said, wearing a resplendent white robe. "Christmas is more than presents. Look at the word 'Christmas'. It has 'Christ' in it. Christmas is about me."
Thus Spake NietzscheWhen Nietzsche was fifty-five years old, he died and went into the afterlife where he was filed into the Literary Realm. There he enjoyed his contemplations and spent time outside of time in the profound ecstasy of his own mind. But at last, someone stumbled upon him in his thoughts, and he went before the stranger, knew him despite not knowing him, and spoke to him thus:Thus Spake Nietzsche by Vocable
You, Hunter S. Thompson! You have wrapped truth with your gaudy own! You make it new for yourself. Would you have wearied of truth if not for the loud finery you veil it in.
Behold. One must have tasted iron to take solace in the outrageous, but one must be hard to take solace in iron. You can be made harder still!
Much of your words remain but pale imitations, a shallow mask of Truth's profound spirit! Cast off your fear! Loudness is dangerous when one becomes incapable of saying subtle things.
What is truth? Truth — that is: continually peeling away that which covers up the barest essence; Truth — that i
Slaughter SaloonThe saloon doors opened and the new sheriff walked through. Nobody quieted down because nobody was there. Nobody except Tony.Slaughter Saloon by Vocable
"We're closed, sheriff," Tony said, swiping a dirty rag over a table. "We always close at sundown. Unless you've got business with me, we've got no business at all."
"Yeah, I got business with you," Sheriff Sam said. The doors swung closed behind him, blocking the light of the setting sun. "Need your help. Three guys came here earlier today. Remember 'em?"
"I dunno, sheriff. Lots of people come here. Can't expect me to remember them all."
"Yeah, well, you'll remember these guys. Real mean types. Troublemakers. New in town so you wouldn't have seen them before."
Tony remembered them, real cocky upstarts who were itching for a fight. It was rare for someone to make trouble in Tony's saloon, with it being so close to the sheriff's office. They tested his patience, made his hands itch for the guns he kept hidden beneath the counter.
"Yeah, I remember them. What abou
Sentence Structure for FICTIONSentence Structure for FICTION by OokamiKasumi
On Basic Sentence Structure for Fiction
(Grammar Nazis BEWARE!)
Everything I ever learned about writing Fiction DIDN'T come from school; not even college. In fact, the way one writes fiction is almost the complete opposite of everything I learned in school about writing.
In order to make my stories crystal clear in my readers' imaginations, I write in precise Chronological Order, in the order events actually happen, PLUS in the order that the eye sees it.
Case in point, when describing a character, I describe them from top to bottom, in the order that the eye notices them. Face, hair, upper body, arms, hands, then lower body, legs, feet, then over all impression.