Saturday, February 25, 2012

Ronnie-Newkirk teaser!

You cannot imagine how happy it makes me to give this to you. And by that, of course, I meat how happy it makes me to imagine you squirming because you have no context, which must be very important to the situation. Or is it? I guess you won't know until I want you to, huh? Hmm. Too bad. *smiles evilly, steeples fingers, and rubs them together. Evilly.*
Let the fun begin!

The door opened with a click that hardly echoed in the small room. In the corner, a slight form was huddled, knees folded in on herself, holding them tightly; like a hug, Singe thought. When she looked up, he was caught by the greenness of her eyes in the pale wormlight.
“You’re meal,” he said curtly. The girl nodded dumbly. “Do you speak English?”
“Yes. Some.” Her voice was distracted, eyes fixed hungrily on the tray he held. Quickly he handed it to her and stood silently as she swallowed the biscuit in three bites, the potatoes in two, and washed it down with the coffee. She let out a deep breath when she was done and leaned her head against the wall. “Thank you.”
 “I’m just doing my job.”
“For the potatoes,” the girl pursed her lips and inclined her head, making the grimy blond hair fall across her face. She didn’t miss much, did she?
“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly. In the moment it took her to process the words, she let her long legs stretch on the cot, which pulled the hem of her trousers up well past her ankles. He would be embarrassed about seeing this, but she had such an effortless grace that he didn’t think to look away.
“I have two names,” she said slowly in careful English, “I am Rachel. My men call me Ronnie when we work. You understand?”
“Y-yes.” He stuttered. “I am--er--Eugene.”
He stood awkwardly, not sure what to do next. Rachel extended a calloused hand toward him. “I am pleased to meet you, Eugene.”


  1. Nice. What did Rachel say when she saw it?

  2. I'm pretty sure she hasn't read it. She hasn't been to the Westerblog in over a week. It's making me mad. *growls* Way over a week, actually. Probably at least two.

  3. So at least I'm not missing her.

  4. P.S. Go to word and select the font "Wingdings" and type in, Q33 NY, with caps and you will se some thing really creepy. Q33 NY is the flight number of the plane that was hijacked and crashed into the twin towers on 9-11. Do it. It. Is. So. Creepy.

    1. I almost hope that's just a coincidence. Because if it isn't, and the person who created "Wingdings" did that post-9-11, they're just cruel. We already know that the terrorists were/are cruel.

    2. One really scary, not on a stormy day, alone in the house, show is the 9-11 special that the Fifth Estate, CBC (Canadian national tv), did. They have a bunch of recordings of people who were on the plane and called their loved ones and people who were those loved ones and talked about what it was like to be talking to their spouse and then have the line drop dead. So scary.