Jim was a thirty-seven year old programmer. He wasn’t anything else. Most people, you think you know them until you go to their house and they have guitars and pianos, or a bunch of books from the eighteen-hundreds, or they fold their clothes the KonMari way, or they collect silk scarves and doilies, or they make model sail boats, or they’re hoarders, or the have a mattress on the kitchen floor, or all their walls are done up in gorgeous, delicate, hand painted trompe l’oeil or something; but Jim had no hobbies, no pastimes, no talents, no pets, no friends, and was not interested in anything. It was remarkable, actually. He worked, and thought about work. Tessa didn’t know what he did; they were in different departments. She would have believed he was one of the Russian androids rumoured to have been brought in for the security of the firm if not for one humanizing thing about him: If you got him drunk on gin with a little orange slice in it and ran around in the labyrinth behind the Spire at midnight with the whole, big, full moon beaming down on you he would look into your eyes like he was a seventeen year old virgin who had never loved anyone in the whole world but you- but you would have to be drunk too, so you’d laugh, and he’d kiss you, but you would stumble, tripping over each other and falling into topiaries and sparkling trees like wood nymphs, and make love on the stones by the fountain, caught up in the romance of it, the blurry vision and the dimmed out sky full of stars, and it would all be a kind of mess and ruin until the next morning when you would lay in bed, no idea how you got there, with your stomach in knots, bruises all over your knees and backside, chastising yourself, hating yourself, heartsick, lovesick, aching in the memory of that look in his eye, and the soft, world melting touch of his mouth… which you would not have again until the next full moon after the close of darkness.
In this piece I play with run-on sentences. I used the first for humour, and the second for emphasizing the out-of-control antics of Tessa and Jim. But should they be in the same piece? Do they do what they set out to do? Let me know what you think.
For this week’s prompt we’ll write a 250 word sentence. Don’t worry about it being perfect- the motto around here is “One and Done!” One edit, that is. Let’s write a sentence that has:
- consistent tone or emotion
- a sense of flow (the ideas should feel like they’re held together naturally)
- a variety of conjunctions ( for, and, but, or, yet, so, because, although, whereas, therefore, unless, etc.)
I recommend “Sentence” by Donald Barthelme for inspiration.
PS: I aim to post my attempt and a new prompt every Friday. This prompt is for January 7th to 13th. If you would like me to read your writing please send it via the form below- I would love to see it! Thanks for reading!