Walter and myself are in the midst of another writing class. The teacher has some interesting ideas. The class is Creative Non-Fiction, and so far he's been concentration a lot on writing on a small scale, and dealing with writer's block. I, of course, have been making my work non-non-fiction. This week's class he has us writing a hundred and fifty words based on one of nine sentences, and we must include the sentence. That's a narrow window, but I wrote something in one-hundred and seventy-one words. If you think about it, I only wrote one-hundred and fifty-one of those words. Pretty close, I'd say.
Here it is. I've underlined my "starting off" sentence.
As the monk performed his evening walk of the sanctum, he noticed an unusual pilgrim making his way through the altars. It was his duty to greet all visitors, but this man gave him pause, and he didn't know why. He carried no visible weaponry. He made no treating movements. Yet the monk continued on his survey of the seven alters until it finally dawned on him. The man wore the cloak of the pagans who worshiped here nearly a century before, back when it was the temple of the Demigod Ctasah.
He hurried back to the coy pond surrounding the water goddess, and was again startled into silence by the man's bearings. So he avoided the subject he wanted to discuss, freedom of religion. Surly the man could not be allowed to worship his fish god here. It was then he noticed the man's chanting was having an effect on one of the coy. As the glowing fish rose, his faith wavered.