Yeah ... Writers Gotta Write!

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jones jones
Posts: 6601
Joined: Sat Jan 26, 2008 7:30 am

Yeah ... Writers Gotta Write!

Post by jones jones »

Here's some of the Chosen's writing and some images that are totally really unrelated to the writing.

The man & woman stood at the open grave looking down at the plain Pine coffin. Both wore black; her a mini dress and him a suit. Two men, gravediggers, hovered nearby leaning on their shovels. The undertakers had already put their paraphernalia into their hearse and were driving out of the cemetery gates.

Two wreaths lay on the coffin. One of red and one of white roses as requested by the deceased. The man, older than his companion, had his arm about her shoulders and she hers around his waist.

"Emma," the man said, still gazing down into the grave, "I'm going to put that little rose marble angel on her grave once it’s settled and the grass has grown."

The woman smiled up at him. "Daddy, it’s only got one wing."

"An angel with one wing." He smiled back at his daughter. "Mary would definitely have loved it."

He moved his foot and some sand trickled into the grave. A large pebble pinged off the coffin and the gravediggers looked up expectantly.

"Maybe we should leave now dad." Emma glanced across the three neighbouring graves separating them from the men. One touched a finger to his cloth cap and she smiled in return. "I think they might want to fill in Mary's grave now."

"Okay sweetheart." He pressed his lips to her temple. "Let's go then."

They turned away from the grave then made their way across the sand to the grass walkway between graves. Emma put her arm through her fathers.

"I bet if Mary's watching she's totally pissed off that we're wearing black." Emma said. "I know she hated dreary and sad funerals."

"She'll forgive us sweetheart, she always did."

As they neared the tarred road, Emma pointed at a white sedan parked behind her Mercedes. "Dad, is that who I think it is?"

"Yep, it’s Susan Scott, your favourite newspaper columnist and author of the extremely popular column ... 'Scott Everything To Do With Me!'"

"Jesus dad, doesn't she have any respect for the dead? Christ, what a cow!""



One of my favourite images of Ms Monroe. She looks so vulnerable.





Here's Theda Bara with her sister and mother.





Los Angeles. August 22, 1960. “Woman booked in shooting case. Lowa Runyan said to be getaway car.





My second love after Norma Jean ... Amy W.





"…I hate how I don’t feel real enough unless people are watching." — Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters
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Lady J
Posts: 1085
Joined: Sun Aug 14, 2011 6:08 pm

Yeah ... Writers Gotta Write!

Post by Lady J »

jones jones;1454270 wrote: Here's some of the Chosen's writing and some images that are totally really unrelated to the writing.

The man & woman stood at the open grave looking down at the plain Pine coffin. Both wore black; her a mini dress and him a suit. Two men, gravediggers, hovered nearby leaning on their shovels. The undertakers had already put their paraphernalia into their hearse and were driving out of the cemetery gates.

Two wreaths lay on the coffin. One of red and one of white roses as requested by the deceased. The man, older than his companion, had his arm about her shoulders and she hers around his waist.

"Emma," the man said, still gazing down into the grave, "I'm going to put that little rose marble angel on her grave once it’s settled and the grass has grown."

The woman smiled up at him. "Daddy, it’s only got one wing."

"An angel with one wing." He smiled back at his daughter. "Mary would definitely have loved it."

He moved his foot and some sand trickled into the grave. A large pebble pinged off the coffin and the gravediggers looked up expectantly.

"Maybe we should leave now dad." Emma glanced across the three neighbouring graves separating them from the men. One touched a finger to his cloth cap and she smiled in return. "I think they might want to fill in Mary's grave now."

"Okay sweetheart." He pressed his lips to her temple. "Let's go then."

They turned away from the grave then made their way across the sand to the grass walkway between graves. Emma put her arm through her fathers.

"I bet if Mary's watching she's totally pissed off that we're wearing black." Emma said. "I know she hated dreary and sad funerals."

"She'll forgive us sweetheart, she always did."

As they neared the tarred road, Emma pointed at a white sedan parked behind her Mercedes. "Dad, is that who I think it is?"

"Yep, it’s Susan Scott, your favourite newspaper columnist and author of the extremely popular column ... 'Scott Everything To Do With Me!'"

"Jesus dad, doesn't she have any respect for the dead? Christ, what a cow!""

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You are a writer Jj. Great stuff...I can see in my mind what You write....only a writer can create that.

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