Huzzah, and it's another round of Six Sentence Sunday marvellousness with you, me and everyone we know. Hah! I want to start right were we left off last week, with The Days Adrift, the infamous WIP that keeps me up late. You'll find the =>prologue and =>part one both here on my blog. Link-color questionable, that's why I need the flashy arrows...
Anyways, since I hold all of your comments and criticisms in such high regard, I really want to encourage you to always crit as you see fit. I can handle it, and it's the only chance for me to improve. If something sounds strange or plain wrong to you, please don't hold back, kay? :)
That's usually how I get to know people; I have yet to see Brita in such a moment. Tams, however, has - in that other guy's kitchen back when we were still on dry land. She told me that first,
it started out harmless with Brita, talking to the older one with her fawn eyes, constantly nodding her little head, so sweet, so fragile.
Then, out of nowhere, she lunged at him in a ferocious blur, and struck. She went directly for his head. Tams says that if it hadn't been for the repugnant crushing sound, she would never even have noticed anything else but Brita's fingernails at play.