Here, ladies and gentlemen, for your delectation and delight, I present (fanfare please)…Six Sentence Sunday!!!
I have for you today six sentences from a piece which is currently sitting abandoned on my desk somewhere. Enjoy.
As every night, the cowled man listened half-heartedly for a name. For three years, this man, known as Theron to those who dared to ask, had haunted a thousand inns, brothels and back alleys, waiting for a name. This name, with its power to save him. By now he had almost given up, this stranger hidden beneath his hood. But then it came, that name he had been waiting for, seeping into the corner where he sat like the scent of beer had seeped into the very structure of the building over a thousand years of inebriation.
(It was six lines according to my manuscript, anyway.)