Baker’s Dozen: NaNoWriMo Best of the Daily (19)

She stood on a flat and spacious plain.  Remnants of brush and other dead looking flora interrupted the smooth and glistening ground here and there.  She knew this was the rolling desert she had learned about when Maiden Hassium had pushed her to stop lingering on the pictures in her month of geography.  She could see nothing moving as far as her sight covered of the plain.  As for “rolling” she didn’t understand why it was named this way.  The area reminded her of a bowl.  Except for the opening far in the distance where the coach was pointed, they appeared to be surrounded by ridges of rock and metal on all sides.  The solar rays were brighter where they reflected off some of the peaks.

“You ever been outta’ Shackleton?” Patel asked from behind her.Participant-2014-Square-Button

“No, Bishop,” she replied, without a second thought to her learned propriety.

He didn’t correct her, wanting to stay on the subject.  “This part o’ the desert is called, ‘Baker’s Dozen,’ ‘cause there’s thirteen peaks around the edges of the bowl.”  He watched her count and then reached into his pocket.


Tune in for quick reads of the best (or least despicable) selections from the previous day’s word count, by virtue of my daily writing regimen for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).  WARNING:  editing has not taken place.

Advertisements

Coach through Baker’s Dozen: NaNoWriMo Best of the Daily (18)

The air was moving.  The orange solar glare was reaching over some kind of ledge a few feet from her face and behind it, pink-orange hues were drawing swirly lines across a cornucopia of purple shades, interspersed with wisps of cotton clouds.  Participant-2014-Square-ButtonShe squirmed until she was sitting up.  They were on some kind of old fashioned coach, its polymer mold rounded at the corners of the compartment she was in, with no doors to be seen.  Terra yawned and tried to stretch.


Tune in for quick reads of the best (or least despicable) selections from the previous day’s word count, by virtue of my daily writing regimen for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).  WARNING:  editing has not taken place.

Olfactory

HK Causeway Bay Show Flat Upper East 18 香精油 bottle April-30-2011She had made the comment in humor earlier – but only in part.  In truth – she really did think the restaurant’s spa-like bathroom merited an extra ten dollars on the bill for brunch.  After all, bathrooms were a kind of sanctuary – the most intimate of activities (both sexy and embarrassing) were done there.

It was clean, tidy, tiled, and decorated in richly dark colors to create an ambiance of relaxation and comfort.  The leather lounge chairs in a tucked away corner were lighted, inviting you to sit and read or enjoy a moment of reprieve from the hustle and scurry that were just outside the door.  Most impressive was the choice it offered in soaps and lotions to top off your potty experience.  “Vanilla Mulberry,” or “Lime Patchouli” for soaps and four other flavors of lotions were displayed at the sinks and on the walls facing those mirrored masterpieces of granite.  Heaven.

In what was usually the most offensive olfactory environment in most places, this restaurant had offered a bouquet of pleasant aromas.  She couldn’t decide which soap to use, so she used both and washed her hands twice.

Two hours later when the woman dressed in three layers of clothing crammed into the airline seat next to her – the heavy stench of body odor permeating every square foot of air around – she was overjoyed that her hands still smelled of patchouli.