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kalleaheponymous_rose , a brilliant idea which I take zero credit for:This is something I've concocted primarily because I want confirmation that I'm not the only one with a folder full of half-finished fiction on my desktop that might never get written at this rate. So here you are! The Work-in-Progress Meme! When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
A dream sequence I cut from Voyages of Discovery because it just didn't work at all there, but I've held onto it. Eventually, it may be its own story. Rose's POV.
The flash of white light all around and the almost instantaneous crack of thunder caused her to duck down. Her nostrils filled with the sharp smell of ozone. She tried to remember the advice she had been given on thunderstorms and knew the last place she wanted to be was on the top of a treeless hill. She stumbled down the hill. Even the small rocks scattered in the grass stabbed at the bottom of her feet and she ignored the discomfort, finding the lowest spot she could spot in the empty grassland around her and dropping to her knees. She curled up into a ball, hands curled protectively around her head.
Cut from The Hidden Well:
Rose could have filled volumes with the sentences he didn't finish. She knew what he meant, though, and it wasn't about the innuendo in his words. These days, she couldn't stop herself reaching for his hand, slipping an arm around him, or making any of the countless other gestures that tied them together. They had always been physically affectionate with one another, but there was a degree of need in their touches that was new.
A tease of a very-nearly-completed vignette that I'll post after The Hidden Well is finished:Jacob, to Rose's amusement, took a single biscuit and nibbled on it as delicately as a rather stout, bald man could be said to nibble. His puffy beard waggled in the air as he chewed. She knew he occasionally afforded himself such small luxuries despite his ascetic lifestyle. For one, the Doctor supplied him with Refallan tobacco, which Rose had seen him pack into a dark wooden pipe but never smoke. Tea, apparently, was not a luxury.
The refrains from a somewhat fictional perspective story, not at all fanfiction:
When I was a child, said Salome,
I saw with a child's eyes. I thought with a child's mind.
When I was a child, said Salome,
I loved with a child's heart. I wept with a child's tears.
When I was a child, said Salome,
I danced with a child's feet. I touched with a child's hands.
