Yeah...so, wierd question, but which of these paragraphs do you like better? Please take the time to read and comment, I'd really appreciate it, thanks. :thumbsup:
The first version…
Running through the streets, someone chasing her. Someone with a knife, or a gun, or a rope. Only a little girl, with a little boy by her side, running as fast as they can, but what if they can’t run fast enough? And his tiny hand slips from hers, because he’s stopped running. She turns to scream his name, the name she can’t remember now, and she sees their pursuer standing over him, lunging down with a shining blade, his crazed eyes glinting in the moonlight, foam around his mouth. But the little boy is calm, and while the man is coming down, he is moving to the side, his small hand rising to somehow catch the knife out of the man’s hand; and with a seemingly practiced motion he stabs the man in the back of the head. Then he turns to the girl, eyes black and somewhere between unknowingly innocent and expecting praise. His hand is still on the knife’s handle, and the girl cannot breathe. She is alive, he is alive…but he has killed. He has done the very thing she feared would happen to him. She begins backing away from him, from his tiny, bony body, and he, confused, comes towards her.
She screams and runs from him…
_______________________________________________________________________
The second version…
Running through the dark streets, someone chasing me…someone with a knife, or a gun, or a rope...
Only a little girl, with a little boy at her side, running as fast as they can. And what If they can’t run fast enough? She clenches his tiny hand as tight as she can, but it slips from hers…because he’s stopped running.
She turns to scream his name, the name she can’t remember now, and sees their pursuer standing over him, lunging down with a shining blade, crazed eyes glinting in the moonlight and foam around his mouth. But the little boy is calm, and as his attacker is coming down, he is moving to the side, and he somehow catches the knife out of the man’s hand. With a spine-chillingly practiced motion, he stabs the man in the back of the head; he falls to the ground and moves no more.
The little boy turns to the girl, his expression somewhere between unknowingly innocent and expecting praise. His tiny hand is still on the knife’s handle, and she cannot breathe. All should be well…he is alive, she is alive, but he has killed. He has done the very thing she feared would happen to him. He has become what she fears. She steps backward, away from him, in terror. Hurt, a little confused, he comes towards her.
She screams and runs from him…
The first version…
Running through the streets, someone chasing her. Someone with a knife, or a gun, or a rope. Only a little girl, with a little boy by her side, running as fast as they can, but what if they can’t run fast enough? And his tiny hand slips from hers, because he’s stopped running. She turns to scream his name, the name she can’t remember now, and she sees their pursuer standing over him, lunging down with a shining blade, his crazed eyes glinting in the moonlight, foam around his mouth. But the little boy is calm, and while the man is coming down, he is moving to the side, his small hand rising to somehow catch the knife out of the man’s hand; and with a seemingly practiced motion he stabs the man in the back of the head. Then he turns to the girl, eyes black and somewhere between unknowingly innocent and expecting praise. His hand is still on the knife’s handle, and the girl cannot breathe. She is alive, he is alive…but he has killed. He has done the very thing she feared would happen to him. She begins backing away from him, from his tiny, bony body, and he, confused, comes towards her.
She screams and runs from him…
_______________________________________________________________________
The second version…
Running through the dark streets, someone chasing me…someone with a knife, or a gun, or a rope...
Only a little girl, with a little boy at her side, running as fast as they can. And what If they can’t run fast enough? She clenches his tiny hand as tight as she can, but it slips from hers…because he’s stopped running.
She turns to scream his name, the name she can’t remember now, and sees their pursuer standing over him, lunging down with a shining blade, crazed eyes glinting in the moonlight and foam around his mouth. But the little boy is calm, and as his attacker is coming down, he is moving to the side, and he somehow catches the knife out of the man’s hand. With a spine-chillingly practiced motion, he stabs the man in the back of the head; he falls to the ground and moves no more.
The little boy turns to the girl, his expression somewhere between unknowingly innocent and expecting praise. His tiny hand is still on the knife’s handle, and she cannot breathe. All should be well…he is alive, she is alive, but he has killed. He has done the very thing she feared would happen to him. He has become what she fears. She steps backward, away from him, in terror. Hurt, a little confused, he comes towards her.
She screams and runs from him…
