Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Son of... I Sense a Theme Here

I thought I had gathered together all the examples, but a good friend has pointed out that more than once, I have a current theme running through my more lurid writings. From a selection of my tandem tales (writing exercises written with various good and talented friends):

From Springtime in Zurich:
Dr. Dietrich Jurgen opened the large window of his spacious office and gazed at the twinkling waters of Lake Zurich in the distance, now bathed in the light of the late-afternoon sun. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh, running a hand over his fine wide forehead and back over his chestnut hair. His sideburns were slightly touched with gray. His deep green eyes were tired and seemed to have lost forever the bright gleam that had set him apart from his fellow students at university. There in Vienna he had been recognized early on as a brilliant mind and a great thinker and it was widely believed that he would surely contribute profoundly to his chosen field of psychiatry.


Jurgen sighed again, picked up his coffee and walked back to the window.


Emerging at last from the bathroom, Jurgen wrapped a towel about his lean hips and leant against the window jam of his bedroom, looking out over the walled, oleander-lined garden, a cigarette dangling from one hand. It was still too early to begin his rounds.


Moments after Magda had left, Dietrich stood by the window, gazing out at the gathering darkness. He kept picturing her lovely form in repose, her hands resting lightly in her lap, the way the lamplight cast a shine upon her dark mane, and her rosy lips as she told her tale.


Dr. Jurgen smiled, held her close for a moment longer, then arose and went to stand by the window. The stars twinkled down in the velvet night sky, and inmpulsively he threw open the french doors which led to the terrace and led Magda out.

From Bramwell Pemberton, Gentleman Spy
Bramwell Pemberton stepped out of his shower and wrapped a towel loosely around his lean hips. Leaning against the window sill, he lit a cigarette and gazed thoughtfully over the view that stretched before him. He hadn’t been in Buenos Aires four hours, and already three people were dead. War was Hell, and they were calling this the war to end all wars. In a gesture of frustration Bram (as he was known to his friends) ran a hand through his hair, letting the unruly curls fall becomingly on his noble brow. There was a knock on the door.

From The Grimoire of Pengannon Castle
Seth emerged from his bath and walked over to the tall sash window of his hotel room, a towel loosely wrapped around his lean hips. Leaning against the jam, he lit a cigarette, folded his arms, and gazed broodily out onto the rain slicked streets. He was more irritable than usual. He hated the city and especially the people who populated it. Bankers were the worst.

From Trouble in Paradise
Taichu woke suddenly. His body and every nerve in it were alert. He espied the full moon outside the window, and taking up his watch from the rickety nightstand, saw that it was 3:30 a.m. He had only been asleep a half hour. Standing up, he crossed to the window. The moon slanted in and across his lithe, well-toned, naked body.


"No. Goodnight!" barked Banner, pushing the old fellow firmly from the room and shutting it behind him. He locked the door, and flung his small suitcase and trenchcoat on the bed. Then shaking a cigarette out its packet, he lit up and leant against the window jam, gazing out at the street below.


He reached out a powerfully whip-corded arm and pulled back the thinning curtain from the window above his bed. The surly yellow sky bespoke a dank humidity and an intolerable heat for the time of morning. Cursing silently he rose up, and - standing - stretched his lean, well-muscled form. Pulling on a shirt, he crossed to the window across the room and stood there, his arms folded, a lit cigarette greeting the new day.

From The Curse of Castle Kinvara
Arsalan Musulmani took a sip of the dark, aromatic Arabic coffee and placed the porcelain cup upon the window-ledge. He looked broodingly out the window upon the lavish formal gardens surrounding the house. Tall date palms swayed gently in the midday breeze, their fronds billowing like large green fringes.


Arsalan tied a towel about his lean hips and went to stand by the window, opening the lattice a little to gaze off into the high mountains. The sun was now setting a golden glow upon the land and Arsalan the warrior felt his soul soften and his body tremble with sensual anticipation as he remembered the form of the woman he had purchased that very morning.

From The Vampires of Scorpio Hall
Once alone, Snape cast off the long black cloak stretched his long, powerful limbs. He sat briefly on the huge canopied bed but a restlessness bestirred him and he got up again and walked over to the leaded diamond-paned window which looked onto a gloomy, deserted courtyard. An old stone fountain, dry and dusty, stood in the centre.

I needed a good laugh and I can't really watch myself dancing.

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