Mr. Bransford’s contest and all the entries can be seen here.
Here’s my entry:
I rode from the ruins of Wat Rahm on a collection of flotsam amid the swift waters of the flooded Yan River. The corpses of my brothers and sisters, the Jao Naam, bobbed and swirled past with a languor not of the waking world. Amchaara, radiant and horrible, had driven her spectral host like a battering ram, breaking our sluices and weirs and dams. Her wrath had loosed the river—and the magic therein.
Enjoy!
All the best, Jonathan!
“languor not of the waking world” – I love that.
Thanks! I enjoyed writing it – I checked out your entry *chuckles*. Good stuff. I commented over on your blog.
I love that whole paragraph — it really sets the scene! The best of luck to both of you!
Teresa
Thanks, Teresa. Good luck to you as well. I remember reading your opening paragraph on your blog. It makes me want to know why Catarina is always cold. Are Lucian’s palms wet with sweat because he is hot or is there another, more sinister reason? I’m compelled to know more!