It wasn’t like she was deliberately tactless. She simply never lied, even for ego’s sake. Flattery and false pretenses never crossed her mind, so once pointed out, the debate ensued regarding their true necessity. But her impatience for such topics was that thing unmovable…
Aleksi’s eyes were the cesspools of his depravity, always pushing on the back of her neck, watching her. He prided himself on being that Ukrainian. The Hollywood stereotypical sadist, with hair buzzed to his scalp and a white scar lancing through one arched brow. He could’ve worn a sign that read: “Will kill for fun, but let’s negotiate pay.”
These random lines are a prime example of how my backassackwards brain works. Even as a writer, I still have no idea why these detached bits & pieces enter my head at the strangest times. I wasn’t even working on any stories yesterday afternoon when they started rambling between my ears, forcing me to quickly grab a pen in order to get them on paper before they decided to leave just as fleetingly as they’d arrived. I’m unsure of where the first one belongs, but the second bit definitely belongs in my Black and Blue Corners story.
Is this how Jeanne d’Arc felt whenever her messages would come through? Oh, alright, I wouldn’t want that kind of gift anyway. Still… these completely out-of-nowhere improvs are puzzling and I can’t help wondering if I should get my head examined for more than the pressurized snot currently clogging all of the drainpipes… ugh… anyone wanna trade throats & sinuses???