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About the author
pleasant_disarray
Novel: Shoot the Dying Girl
Genre: Mainstream Fiction
50,157 words so far   Winner!

About pleasant_disarray

Location: Canberra, Aus

Home Region:
Australia & New Zealand :: Melbourne

Age:15

Website: http://mossy-jade.livejournal.com

Favorite novels: The Fountainhead, Harry Potter, anything David Eddings, the Billabong books, anything Isobelle Carmody...

Favorite writers: Ayn Rand, David Eddings, J K Rowling, Isobelle Carmody.

Favorite music: Do you want my 100 Prompt Songs list?

Non-noveling interests: Science (particularly chem), passing Year 10, the horror of all evils (fanfiction), DEBATING STOLE MY SOUL.

Joined date: Octubre 2, 2007

NaNoWriMo posts: 48

NaNoWriMo buddies: 17

 


Shoot the Dying Girl
an excerpt

Twenty Two - Enemies

‘I hate you, you prat!’

‘Oooooh, prat. Classy. Your stinging insults and extensive vocabulary have caused an unbearable wound in the depths of my heart.’

‘If I was not displaying my own considerable lexicon, it was but to spare your feelings and your substantial pride. Because, despite your own rather prolix declaration of pain, you are, in fact rather unintelligent.’

‘That’s rich, coming from you! Someone who uses the word prolix but can’t even structure an essay that will earn them a mark higher than eighty. If you’ve got such a “considerable lexicon” then you better start thinking of synonyms for enemy, because you’re damn well going to need them!’

‘Enemy. Noun. Synonyms include opponent, adversary, foe, rival…’

A scream of pure fury.

‘Just shut up already, you pretentious git! Haven’t you realised yet that nobody likes you?’

Cheers at this declaration followed, indicating that it was indeed true that nobody - at least, nobody present at that time - liked him at all.

‘I don’t know about you, Ally, but I’m having an awful lot of trouble telling these characters apart. They both sound really similar.’

The girl addressed read back over what she and Grace had just written and sighed, running her hand absently through a short, thick mop of flaming red curls, recently grown. Why did the bloody English teacher have to set up such a stupid task? Write a story in pairs with the prompt ‘enemies.’ How original. But then Ally, realising what she could make of the situation, smirked.

‘If you are so wretchedly obtuse, Miss Castles, that you cannot even grasp an undemanding passage such as this, then perhaps your position as a member of Year Seven English is unmerited. I shall convey my concerns to your educator instantaneously.’

‘Ha bloody ha.’

‘Has my verbal skill once again surpassed your limited intellectual capacity?’

‘Git.’

‘Prat.’

‘Cow.’

‘Idiot.’

‘Dumbnut.’

‘Imbecilic excuse for a moron whose own dismal attempts at matching my own verbal finesse invariably plunges them yet further into an image of idiocy.’

‘ … talk about overkill.’

Ally’s face split into a grin that gave no signs of ever being anything but cheerful.

‘Oh, how I love my thesaurus.’

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