My Idea For This Story
My first idea for this story was to build a page for homicidal sentences. They would be the toughest, meanest sentences anyone had seen in a long while. As soon as the reader opens to the first page: *blam-blam*, there they are, the sentences, just going at it.
Whoah, thinks the reader. That's blood. That blood is real.
These sentences would be criminals. They would have escaped from burned-down asylums. They would want to dance the way skeletons want to dance; with their whole bodies missing at once. They would be crude and nasty. They would behave badly. And then they would die in wanton spectacles of violence.
That didn’t work out, so my second idea for this story was to make a story that was a story about writing this story itself, like a self-zapping lightning bolt that strikes itself over and over again. This would be the paragraph where you’d get a sense of whether or not this sort of thing could hang actually together.
by ELIZEYA QUATE
by SCOTT McCLELLAND
by BOBBIE WAYNE
by DANIEL ROCHE
My Yellow Cup with the Tiger On
Scott McClelland / Bartleby Snopes
Lawn Boy / wplynn / Flickr
© Intrinsick 2015-2020