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03/13/11(Sun)03:56 No.24248903Writefag who was complaining about word count earlier here. I just checked and I'm now up to 1118 words in total.
I think I'm done writing for tonight, but I'm going to post a quick excerpt just to get some opinions on my writing style.
“So how long are you gonna be gone again?” Pinkie asked, bouncing back into the garage.
“Well, dad said we were only going to stay out there for a night or two, but he might want to stay longer when we get there,” replied Fluttershy, after placing the bag she was carrying into an empty spot.
“Whyshtknyounway?” Pinkie mumbled around the handle in her mouth.
“Well, he wanted to take Stanley, but mom said he’s too young.”
Pinkie dropped the bag into the back of the cart carelessly. “You hate hunting, though!” she said, with a puzzled look on her face.
“Well, I... he really wants... you know...” Fluttershy stammered, obviously uncomfortable. Pinkie rolled her eyes, and continued loading bags into the back. It’s not like it was the first time her friend had clammed up while talking to her.
Despite the fact that she was acting just as cheerful as ever, she was quite worried for her friend. While Pinkie’s parents never had so much as a bottle of cooking sherry in their house, she had seen Fluttershy’s father while he was drunk. He scared her quite a lot, and she knew that with Fluttershy, that fear must have been multiplied ten fold. This was, of course, an exaggeration, but not one she could be blamed for. In any other situation, she would be correct, but she forgot that Fluttershy had dealt with it all her life. At this point, the fear she felt was more of a depressing apathy. She loved her father deep down, but on the surface, she felt indifferent to him. If anything happened to her father, she would be neither happy nor sad; she just really and truly did not care. |
