His Nails Blue as the Water

As he lay shivering, his blood freezing, his skin melting in the hole that they had thrown him in, and piled earth on, piling and piling until it seemed to graze the sky, he twisted against the vast quantities of earth which were drowning his lungs, blocking his eyes, muffling all sound, but pressing on his eardrums with a power so great that he screamed, forcing his jaws apart, letting out his voice, letting in the soil, letting it tumble into his mouth, bringing with it the taste of old moss, sand, worms, making him gag, retch, before he found out that nothing was coming up other than more dirt, more sand, more worms, more of all the things that covered him.


This is the result of a writing exercise from this weekend.

We had to choose a sentence from a previous exercise and write a new text with that as the title. The special thing about this exercise was that we were not allowed to use any full stops until the exercise was done. This edited version is a bit shorter than the rough draft, but much better.  I should really have recorded it and put it up as an mp3. This kind of text is meant to be read aloud.

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