Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Her nails went right in the man's eyes, her thumbs scraping his gums as she pushed his head back.

Her boyfriend curled into a ball on the ground. . .

But that's not true. He's not a wuss, I know the guy. I'm inside his head for heaven's sake (and it is).

Here's an ending for you:

The two (surviving) main characters are sitting on a beach watching the sun settle into a crystal clear body of water.

The feminine one (not necessarily a man) shivers and her partner wraps a towel around her shoulders.

They clink champagne flutes together and the sun disappears --not under the horizon line, simply disappears, like a switch has been flipped and now the sun's light is "off."