Sunday, November 21, 2010

325. The world is his oyster

*** I am trying to teach myself to write in the present tense, so please bear with me ***

Pigeons live a precarious existence in a modern city. Perhaps it was always thus. Young Henry is off on the race of his life! No matter which way his quarry twists and turns, Henry follows suit. Across the forecourt of the opera house he charges, oblivious to the iconic stature of his surrounds. All Henry has eyes for is a little blob of grey, with splayed feet, and a red beak. Not that Henry is at all interested in the pigeon. Not really. Henry is engrossed with his own ability.

He can run. He can swerve. He can jump. He can turnaround. And he can do much of this without even falling over. Oops ... sometimes he can do all these things without falling over. But ... when he does fall, watch Henry roll, watch Henry giggle, watch Henry tangle himself up in his own arms and legs.

Henry lives!


Joan Elizabeth said...

Ignoring your Present Tense thing this is good description. Perhaps, the point of view is what is bothering me rather than the tense.

Julie said...

To concentrate on the tense, I have to pare back the description and take it in mouthfuls. Hopefully, it will flow more easily with time. I still find myself writing a story, and THEN going back and putting it into the present tense.

Oh the trials and tribulations ...