Ill post the rest if you like. I feel it should have found a home, but never did.
How many magazines (I'm assuming that's what you mean) did you submit the story to? I ask because it sometimes takes a lot to find a home for a story. I submitted one of my stories, Hobs n' Dogs, to 32 magazine before getting accepted, and that was over a 2.5 year period. Then, within a few months of publication, I had another magazine want to translate and publish it in Galician. I know other writers with similar experiences.Ill post the rest if you like. I feel it should have found a home, but never did.
How many magazines (I'm assuming that's what you mean) did you submit the story to? I ask because it sometimes takes a lot to find a home for a story. I submitted one of my stories, Hobs n' Dogs, to 32 magazine before getting accepted, and that was over a 2.5 year period. Then, within a few months of publication, I had another magazine want to translate and publish it in Galician. I know other writers with similar experiences.
I liked best the quote fro Murakami. It's great to be among other readers.Well…there are loads. And can I remember them word for word? Probably not. I love the opening line of Moby Dick or the White Whale.
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world
In Jane Eyre, with Charlotte Brontë’s achingly beautiful and bold prose, when Miss Temple is reassuring a young Jane, this excerpt broke me into a million little pieces,
The kind whisper went to my heart like a dagger.
in The Handmaid’s Tale, not an excerpt as such but the moment when the commander tells Offred that the mock latin she finds in her room actually means ‘don’t let the bastards grind you down’.
And of course I am a romantic at heart and I can’t leave my beloved Mr Darcy out of this when he confesses his love to Elizabeth Bennet,
In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
There are so many in Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Murakami, but this one sums it up for me,
Unclose your mind. You are not a prisoner. You are a bird in fight, searching the skies for dreams.
Because for further context, the main character is stuck at the end of the world inside his own mind.
And soniq visions palace rarely ran out of energy, as she recharged the glixy super batteries of her palace with a energy source that A bounty hunter who once knew of long ago.And they left another clue, known as "A bounty hunter who?" along with the notion that anyone curious about A bounty hunter who would need to use their imagination to think of.
And their fault, when leaving the clue "A bounty hunter who" was that of nanotechnology sand where things never went as planned.
Although, the Aeon tribe did leave another clue.
This clue was known as a Soniq vision palace, and floated high above the ground in the sky with a mechan alien soniq vison that did fly.
And the mechan alien soniq vison was sentient while she kept many genie lamps and tea pots that she tended to.
Just wrote this and loving it...
A shimmering rainbow appeared in the Light the Edan projected into the room: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, a perfect arch hovering until sparkling beads wavered and danced into a display unimaginable and yet unimaginably real, real beyond the sense of sight, eliciting tinkling chimes as if water and light turned to crystal, and striking his nose with the smells of a thousand memories he couldn't name, and yet unreal in the uncountable variations of colors that dizzied his mind with wondrous possibilities, mesmerizing, tantalizing, and teasing until a shriek born from the Twelve Hells and the Bellows of the Forge shattered his trance, dropping him numb to his knees without a prayer.
I woke up last night and thought, what the hell, I'll post the next bit too:From a yet to be published (whom am I kidding?)novel about two young werewolves, brother and sister, here meeting the spirit of the forest.
She was as tall as a tree and suddenly we didn’t feel like masters of the forest, but like little cubs and we both went down on our bellies while Dad just stood there off to one side. The look in his eyes was, I don’t know, sort of sad and proud all at the same time.
She had wide spreading horns and her eyes were deep green and set on the side of her head like a deer’s. Just as in the vision there were these little lights dancing around in and around her antlers and all the rest was shadow. I could feel her studying us, looking from one to the other, turning her head to see us with both eyes. It was scary in a way and yet I didn’t feel afraid. I felt that everything we had ever done, my brother and me, was being looked at and judged, and I don’t know how but I knew that there were parts that she liked and parts she didn’t, and some that made her sad and even some that amused her.
Then she stopped and stepped back a little and with something like a hand but not a human type of hand she made a sign that we could pass through.
Stef and I leaped to our feet and started to charge forward because suddenly all we wanted in the world was to know what was on the other side of that gateway.