Thread: Finish the...

sentence.

1) I have this friend who...

2) She decided to wait and...

3) He loves it when they...

4) I couldn't believe my eyes when...

5) I do believe that you owe me a...


Now pick one of those. Write a paragraph on it. Then make up at least three more sentences that need to be finished!

"I do believe that you owe me a foot rub" Brianna said as she removed her sandals. "The deal was I do the dishes, you rub my feet, and there were two days worth of dishes so that should warrant what a good twenty minutes" she asked already knowing the answer.

Albert hated feet, but he decided earlier he hated doing dishes more so he went and got the lotions and the scrubber and set about the task at hand. "The things I do to avoid doing real work" he thought to himself as Brianna's feet landed in his lap upon his return.

He loves it when they give up easily. Coaxing them out of the whole Miss Independent title gives him immense pleasure, literally. He decided a long time ago to conquer any woman he found attractive and make her his own. The usual cycle was to make her think that she had him by the balls, but in reality, he had her by the heart. And the thing that scared her the most was when he'd decide to drop it. The fear in their naive eyes only empowered him fulfilling his every fantasy of being viewed as a god.

It didn't take them long to figure out who was in charge. After the first punch, it was all "Yes, sir" and "Can I get you anything else?" like a damn waitress from Waffle House. This would go on about four months till she got boring and he got sick of the usual submission. So he would send her away with a check and an earful because she really messed up and that's why he wanted out. The reasons could be anywhere from buying store brand groceries to not being more enthusiastic in the bedroom.

I didn't know people had sex in dungeons. I didn't know people had sex with their fathers. I didn't know what being molested meant. I didn't know what rape could do to you. I didn't know all the strange women in my house, but only that their names sounded like ice cream flavors.

I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him eat thirty-seven cookies. Here was this tall lanky guy who could eat as much as a truck driver. Where did he put it all ? I mean he only weight about a hundred and fifty pounds and with his tall what six foot frame, he looked almost sickly. I mean I love cookies and can do some damage to a box of Oreo's but not eat thirty-seven big mall cookies from The Great American Cookie Company. Each one was the size of my fist.

Melody kept running the cookie eating contest and the guy who won all through her head while she finished her shopping. It was several shoe stores and hours later when she saw the same guy who won, Jake was what his name tag said, still on his green shirt. She was on her to go over and congratulate him on winning the hundred dollar mall gift card along with a free cookie cake, when she stopped. Jake leaned over the trashcan he was standing near and puked.

Melody now saw all the cookies coming back up, and was disgusted. She left quickly after that. Atleast now I know how he can eat so much and stay so skinny, she thought as she started her car and went home.

He loves it when they yell at Anne. When they are berating his older sister, it means that he is not in trouble. He doesn't feel bad for being happy when Anne is in trouble. She is happy when he is the one being screamed at, for the same reasons.

Both of their parents are in her face. Anne whimpers and cries, head down, trying not to make things worse. He leans on the doorframe, watching. Anne tries to ward off the slaps and punches, but she can't take it for long. She speaks up.

"Greg was the one who told me to do it." The accusing finger points straight at his chest, and he feels a jolt like he was punched. As his parents round on him, he meets Anne's eyes for a moment. He knows he would have done the same thing; their parent's wrath is worth even betraying a sibling. He isn't mad at her. He is glad she found a way to escape punishment, even if it means that he is the one who takes the beating now.

As for 3 more sentences to be finished...

1. The candleflame illuminated...

2. As she felt the prick of the needle, she...

3. The door slammed shut on...

As she felt the prick of the needle, she realized she really hated giving blood, but by donating she was able to miss class. Shannon tried to think about anything but the needle in her arm, she hated needles, but she hated Mr Austin's AP English quizzes more. A few minutes with a needle in her arm was nothing compare to Mr Austin's quizzes. He was known to not only give the hardest quizzes in the school but also not grade them on a curve. Besides she'd also get a cookie and a can of soda after this was done. It all seemed like a small price to pay to miss the last class of her day on a beautiful Friday afternoon.

As she felt the prick of the needle, she closed her eyes tightly, squeezing out a single tear which trickled down the side of her face as she lay on the table. She was cold, exposed, and afraid. The voices around her began to fade; the doctors, talking as if she wasn’t even in the room, discussing heart rhythm, and chem panels. The shear number of voices terrified her. Was her case so dire as to warrant so much attention? She was frantic, her fear becoming detached and ambiguous as she felt the thiopental begin to pour into her veins. She shivered and drew in a long thin breath, resisting the weight pulling her into darkness, no longer able to make out the doctors voices. She'd been through many surgeries that year, and in a final conscious effort, she prayed that this would not be her last.

The candleflame illuminated the book before her. It was a great tale and wonderfully written and it was one of her favorite books. She wished her life could be as exciting as that and she wished she could be as strong as the characters in the book, instead of dreaming about it all of the time. She hated to think that this was all life had to offer her, that she was to doomed to live like this and she could go no farther in life. She wanted so much more then this! She hated it when everyone always trampled her dreams and told her that they could never happen and that she would never amount to anything. Well, she would show them what she could do, she would show them that dreams DO come true as long as your willing to work for them and she would prove them all wrong. She put her book down and pulled out some writing materials from her desk drawer, "I WILL be somebody!" and with that she set to work, from morning till night until it was finished. On the evening when the candle had shined so brightly, she became somebody and little did she know, her dreams would come true.

Here are the 3 sentences:

1. The keys jangled on his belt as he....
2. She loved it when it rained, it always reminded her of...
3. I couldn't believe it when I saw....

The keys jangled on his belt as he as he paced the small white room. He was uneasy and lossing his patience now. Too many questions with too few answers could do that to a man.
"I'll ask one more time. Where is Elizabeth Kingston? Where did you hide her body?" His fists slammed on the table, inadvertantly startling the gaurd by the door and causing the single light to slightly sway.
But the other man sat still. He'd kept silent for almost three hours, nothing could make talk now. Instead he focused on the angry man. What do they call these guys? he thought. Ah, yes, interogaters. How could I forget.
"Where is she?!" was demanded once more.
Three hours. He'd kept still that log, completely unnerved or shaken. No harsh words or false accusations had moved him yet. That was what he was always like, even now as he swept the mangled dark hair out of his eyes.
"TALK!" the officers elbow came fast and sharp directly into his temple.
A perfect aim. No doubt from years of practice.
His cool lessened for a single moment, only enough to emit a large glop of spit onto the interrogators shiny black shoes. This succeeded only in pissing him off more, as his hands were fastened tight around his throat.
The gaurd had had enough and began seperating the two of them, but not before the suspect could push something into the interrogators pocket and whisper softly "when you're trying to kill someone you'll have to squeeze harder. Believe me, I've got a lot of practice."
Stunned, the interrogator stood silent as the criminal was ushered back to his cell. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small piece of cloth. At first he thought it belonged to Elizabeth, but then he realized...
It was drenched in blood. It matched the blouse his wife had put on this morning.

I couldn't believe it when I saw her again, after all these years. She was just as pretty as my memory could recollect. Her hair, while merely pulled back into a ponytail was a lovely shade of brown with natural red highlights running through out. While her face was not caked it makeup, I did notice some light lip gloss and just a hint of blush, I presume. Wow, I am still taken back by her beauty, she has not changed in all these years.
She still is the most beautiful women in the world. God I love my mom.

The keys jangles on his belt as he patrols the dirty school hallways. His boots click meticulously down the dark corridor leading to the basement converted into a classroom for the high school band. Unclipping a brass key from the chain he unlocks the heavy oak door and proceeds through stealthily making sure to open it very slowly so that the hinges wouldn’t creak. Craning his neck around the edge of the door, his eyes quickly skim about the dimly lit room. Mr. Hudson, the band director, left the lamp on again. A satisfied smile makes its way across the janitor’s dried cracked lips. He closes the heavy door softly behind him then whistles. A tiny Vietnamese girl exits from the closet straightening her crooked white button-down blouse. A few moments later, a large broad shouldered man with thinning black hair and grey sideburns appears from the closet giving the janitor a sly look. Both erupt in laughter and drag the girl back into the closet. She cannot cry out in fear of punishment. The little English she does know would be useless to her now. In order to survive, she relinquishes all sense of control. This is not the America she dreamed of.


Yes, it is a loooong paragraph.



1) It was now that I decided to...
2) Please don't make this...
3) He left and she didn't.

"Please don't make this any harder on me Roy" Sandy pleaded with her drunk soon to be ex-husband, as she packed her suitcase. Roy was such a catch back in high school, when they first started dating. He was the star quarterback of the football team, and had been named the best player in the state of Texas, she on other hand was simply a ranch hands daughter. Sandy was pretty but she was more interesting in working around the ranch than dating anyone, especially a ego driven, testosterone fueled jock. Roy would always offer her a ride home from school, and she had turned him down for months, preferring to walk. One day it was raining and she did not see the harm in a simple ride home, after all she would be soaked by the time she got to her house. One ride lead to another ride, which lead to them kissing in his truck. Sandy recalled it did not take long for the rides home to get longer and the clothing to come off quicker as time wore on. Here she was eight years later, she had three kids with a drunk ex-football star for a husband who could not hold down a job to save...well his own family.

"Roy, I am leaving and I am taking the kids. You had enough chances, more than I probably should have given your sorry ass. I am done, we are through, goodbye. You can call the girls every evening and see them on the weekends while I work my shifts at the diner." Sandy said right before her soon to be ex-husband proved, while he was a drunk he still had some of his football moves. Roy cracked her across the bridge of the nose with a stiff forearm shot.

"You ain't going no where honey, and you damn sure aren't taking my girls away from me" was all Sandy recalled hearing Roy say before she lost consciousness.

"...mommy?...." she managed to force open her eyes only to be blinded by the morning sunlight. She opened her eyes again, still blurry from the tears she had cried through the night. In front of her was the waxy outline of a 9 year old girl.

"...mommy...?", she was peering into her eyes, so like her own, blue and crystal clear.

"Heya kid" she replied, sitting up and ruffling her daughter's dirty blonde hair. She pushed her self onto the nearby bean bag, now faded to a dirty, dull red from years of abuse. Her face was still hurting badly from the punch from that bastard Stanley. She smiled weakley at her daughter and asked the inevtable question.

"where's your daddy girlly?".

"He left after you fell asleep. Mommy....?"

"Hmmm....?"

"Are we alone now?"

"I dunno kid, we'll have to see what come when it comes" she replied with a sad shake of her head.

"Don't worry mommy, what ever comes, it'll have to go through me first"

She smiled at her daughter, the first real smile that she had for weeks.

"Well, aren't I lucky to have a strong girl like you"


The three sentences:

the musky scent of lavender

"get in the damn car..."

"you know what? you deserve this"

The musky scent of lavender drowned out any other smell in the tiny chamber. Lila woke in a dizzy state. Her tongue was thick with something sweet and tangy. She tried to move her wrists but they were stuck. Slowly, her head heavy and aching, she craned her neck around and saw that her wrists were in iron clasps around the bed posts. What the devil? She tried to recall last night's events but her mind felt like it had exploded within her skull. There was a soft knock at the door. A long black cloak swept up against the bed. The pure silk of it brushed her cheek. She was suddenly struck with images from the night before. The silk cloak, the tangle of limbs.. his facial hair on her clammy neck. She looks into the eyes of her captor. "You," She murmurs but her words come out garbled. He bends for another kiss; his lips stained burgundy.

"You know what ? You deserve this you lying cheating bastard" Kate screamed before she smashed her ex-boyfriends windshield with his own baseball bat. God Luke was such a dick. It wasn't bad enough the bastard had stood her up for their date, but to find out the reason he couldn't make it was due to the fact he was buried inside some skank, instead of buried at work like he claimed, really pissed her off. Kate liked the anger it helped fuel her to do some serious damage to his side view mirrors after she finished with the windshield. Her auburn hair fell down from the ponytail holder and swept her shoulder as she jerked the bat back for another swing, she would knock those damn mirrors off if she had to swing all night. By the time the second mirror went flying she was out of breathe and the bat felt like it weight a ton. Her arms were tone from lots of kick boxing classes but not strong enough to swing a bat that heavy for extended period of time. She finally just threw it into his front headlights before taking out the spraypaint from her purse and tagging "Dickless" across the hood. Satisfied with her work and a bit sore, she left and felt so much better. "This is way better than therapy" she thought as she got into her car and drove away. She called his cellphone which went straight to voice mail "Fuck you, I left you a present on your car. We're through!" she screamed before hanging up.