“No one was sure why or how the Swedish fish first arrived, but from that point forward, things were different.*”
The young Ember grew among the clouds. One unexpected night, he descended to a Shanghai beach, his memories slipping away. He struggled against the loss, even after he stopped remembering why.
My mother was a cleaning lady, cleaning other people’s homes. Our own home was never so clean – her boyfriends never picked up after themselves. Our own home was filthy, and I couldn’t stand to be there. My own home is spotless, not a blemish to be seen.
Things are really exciting at Creo Somnium right now because I had a new story idea, and I’m also working on it in a different way than I have in the past. I’m doing more planning than I used to do, when I would just sit down and write and end of with a splintered story.
The theme or moral of the story is to trust your instincts – your brain and intuition.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly, preparing to dart out the bookstore doorway. Instead, he held the door open for her. “After you,” he said cordially.
“By the power vested in me by the moon and stars, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The shaman’s final blessing, tossed about on the buffeting winds, was the last restraint from her rose petal lips. He beamed at his bride, their faces close.
This is something new that trying, in effort to practice brevity. Thoughts? (These italicized words don’t count as my 10 🙂 )