sonneillon.wordpress.com
Pretty penny | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/2011/12/08/pretty-penny
Writer, rambler, raconteur. So, this is a little more melodramatic than the others… Sorry! But I thought I should upload it anyway (at least for some sort of critique). Read the rest: The Beginning. Penny hadn’t died. She had been injured and was living with her parents. Gina had found out for him, just like she promised. He was planning on visiting her. The thought made him feel sick to his stomach, but also excited to finally see her face. It was hot and Crispin was sweating in his shirt. 8221; she cal...
sonneillon.wordpress.com
It’s that slow shift from right to left | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/2015/08/17/its-that-slow-shift-from-right-to-left
Writer, rambler, raconteur. It’s that slow shift from right to left. Read the rest: The beginning. Left in the lurch. Nancy stepped carefully over the mole hills in the small garden before reaching the porch. It was one of those wide narrow ones, with two easy chairs to one side and lanterns hanging from the eaves. Nancy, awkward, followed the two men in before closing the door behind her. She caught strains how much do they know? And do they know what you look like? Larry, although almost never present,...
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Slip | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/2012/06/21/slip
Writer, rambler, raconteur. So, there’s quite a few gaps between each of the pieces. That’s mainly because I haven’t really worked out the plot. Oops. Nancy needed a reason to “stray”, and I decided that reason was her estranged husband, Larry. Things with Larry used to be good. Very good in fact. But his work soon became an obsession. Previous posts: The Beginning. Left in the Lurch. The night was chilly and Larry was regretting his decision to not bring a coat along. When Nancy had run a bath he ha...
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Crispin & Nancy | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/crispin-nancy
Writer, rambler, raconteur. The tale of Crispin and Nancy started a little before NaNoWriMo. But ask me now – what is their plot? I have no idea. I’m hoping that will grow with the more I write. Here is what I have in story-order:. Left in the lurch. It’s that slow shift from right to left. Avid reader (of sometimes dubious literature), word-lover and crazy TV series watcher. If I could live in a library, I would. View all posts by sonneillon →. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Tonigh...
sonneillon.wordpress.com
June, oh June… I want all the things | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/2015/06/24/june-oh-june-i-want-all-the-things
Writer, rambler, raconteur. June, oh June… I want all the things. So May was pretty lovely. I also spent so much money, I think I want to curl up and cry. Back on the saving bandwagon, I guess. BUT, ofcourse…I still want all the things. Sigh. Sorry, bank account, if I happen to indulge a little in July…. Trenery Leather Sling Bag (Black, obviously) – R1400. Http:/ www.woolworths.co.za/store/prod/Women/Clothing/Brands-Basket/Trenery-Womens-AW15/Leather-Sling-Bag/ /A-502841676. I ended up tracking one down...
sonneillon.wordpress.com
The road ahead | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/2015/04/10/the-road-ahead
Writer, rambler, raconteur. ERMEGERD. Crispin and Nancy are back! Briefly. Sort of. Maybe. Read the rest: The beginning. Left in the lurch. He drove. Trees flicked passed, the colour of the grass along the mountainside changing from sunburnt brown to yellow and finally, a rich green, with each mile marker. Knuckles white, hands sweaty and too many words sitting on the tip of his tongue, Crispin felt the claustrophobia grow and bubble around him. Her words came out cracked. Next post →. You are commenting...
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Spilt milk | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/2011/12/05/spilt-milk
Writer, rambler, raconteur. Follow on from: The Beginning. Crispin sat awkwardly in Joe’s armchair out on the stoep. The sun was just rising, the steam from his coffee mingling with the morning mist. He stared straight ahead, unable to look at his missing arm and leg. He held the mug in his only hand and blew on it. It was like being dead. He thought to himself. He would never say this out loud. How do you come to terms with being… heartless? Like a fucking retard. Crispin turned suddenly, coffee sloppin...
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July Lust List | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/2015/07/13/july-lust-list
Writer, rambler, raconteur. Jane Sews Sandals – R800. It’s a toss up between these Hannah sandals in Brick ( http:/ janesews.co.za/collections/sandals-flats/products/s15hannahbrk? And the Mia sandals in Black ( http:/ janesews.co.za/collections/sandals-flats/products/s15miablk? Maybe I’ll have to invest in one pair this year and another next year? I don’t know. Saltwater sandals – R849. Vichy Purete Thermale Beautifying Cleansing Micellar Oil – R290 (I think). Lush Ultrabland – R115/R175. I’m looki...
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Crispin meets Gina | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/2011/09/01/crispin-meets-gina
Writer, rambler, raconteur. Follow on from The Beginning. Silence. His eyes were locked on hers. Red from crying, blotchy. He looked hollow to her. Every ounce of hate she imagined he felt for her and Joe was all over his face. She put her hands up, trying to show she meant no harm and approached slowly. His eyes followed her. Ldquo;My name is Gina. I’m not going to hurt you.”. Ldquo;What the fuck have you done to me? Rdquo; he spat, his breath coming in rasps. Ldquo;How…how much do you remember? Ldquo;I...
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Left in the lurch | sonneillon's blog
https://sonneillon.wordpress.com/2012/06/18/left-in-the-lurch
Writer, rambler, raconteur. Left in the lurch. Previous posts: The Beginning. Nancy got up and wondered toward the bathroom, and turned on the shower tap. A sticky bar of soap sat in an equally gross looking soap dish. She ignored this, her hand under the water waiting for the right temperature. Without a glance back, Nancy climbed into the shower. Ldquo;Want a bit of help? Rdquo; he asked. She flashed him a smile. Ldquo;If you help me, I’ll never get this dress on…”. The drive back was quiet. They s...
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