it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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the murky black water grinds your bones into sand, the catfish pick off your eyes

1119 words on "The Red in the Sky is our Blood" today, bringing the total to a little over four thousand, or about a third of the projected length. Calling it a day with that, as I also seem to have found the plot, though I know I need to go back and raise the stakes and inject a little tension into the proceedings.

I think I'm cured. How awesome is that?

Now I get to eat something and then goof off and read until it's time to go climb.
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