Six Sentences on Sunday
~*~Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project — published, submitted, in progress, for your cat — whatever.~*~
(from Distraction from the Dark–not published yet)
There are a lot of things that Jack O’Neill dreads: facing a platoon of heavily armed Jaffa after running out of ammunition, listening to pompous, over-dressed snakeheads blather on about how great they are; listening to pompous, over-dressed politicians blather on about how great they think they are. Long, boring meetings; mountains of paperwork; crappy movies; attempted alien incursions; dealing with brainiacs; warm beer… they all top his list.
But this day in late June, more than any other, keeps him in the dark. Metaphorically and physically. Jack rolls onto his stomach and covers his head with the pillow. He can’t really breath that way but, at the moment, doesn’t particularly care.
(from Downtime–not published yet)
The early morning sun begins to filter through the closed blinds giving the room a muted, surreal look. Cam blinks the sleep from his eyes, momentarily confused. Something isn’t right. Around him the room is still and quiet. Too quiet. With a groan he pushes up to sitting, dangling his legs over the edge, and rubs at his face.
(from Home She Came)
The Army has never been that great with paperwork. So it didn’t particularly surprise Russ that the final word came so late. It took three week for them to get word to the next of kin. And the next of kin didn’t think to inform her “family” for another two weeks.
St. Alban’s Church was packed to the rafters—standing room only. They brought in extra seats and set them up with care in front of the very first pew and down the aisles, making sure to leave enough space to satisfy the Fire Chief.
(from Healthy Fear of the Dark)
“Carter, watch your hands.”
“Sorry, sir; I can’t see.”
“Well, neither can I but you don’t see me putting my hands-”
“I said I was sorry.”
“I know, Carter. Hold on a second.”
(from In the Light of Night)
The cave was cold and damp. Like just about every other cave Daniel found himself in over his lifetime. Which was a surprisingly high amount. Next to him Vala mumbled under her breath and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her jacket around them. Her hair was plastered to her face, rain dripping from the tip of her nose onto her mud caked pants. She wiped absently at a strand of loose hair until Daniel reached over to push it behind her ear, startling her.
(from Camp Out)
Metal and fiberglass poles snap into place with a quiet clinking then slip through their sleeves whispering into the dusk. Sarah giggles from her spot on the lawn chair as she reaches high over her head.
“Hold it steady,” Tucker grumbles. He’s outside trying to get the poles to slip into their slots. It’s not as easy as it looks. Or so he tells Sarah.
(from Another Day, Another Dollar (or not))
Another deal gone horribly awry, Mal thinks as he hunkers down behind an outcropping of rocks. Below him in the canyon the local law searches every house and crevice they can find. Too bad their lookin’ on the wrong side of town. Up in the hills the folk are simpler, not too in love with the city dwellers who tend to look down their noses at anyone without shoes. Mal glances at his companion–a twenty-something kid in tattered coat and dirty feet. He smiles broadly, several teeth missing, and gestures with his head. Mal follows him away from the ridge back into the trees.