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I am IanLowenthal's bookshelf.........
This is a weekly challenge where I (the bookshelf from the title) will divulge a few paragraphs from a different book each week, and you guys/gals (if I'm not the only bookshelf in this site, please let me know) will make a card or two based on the part of the story I revealed. If you have previously read the whole book, you may base your card on the whole thing. And please, please, please don't tell IanLowenthal that I (his bookshelf) am using his account for shameless attention-seeking!
These are the rules.
It must be related to the story of the week somehow, if you can, explain how it is related.
It must be Magic: the Gathering card, Pokémon and other games of its ilk will not accepted.
Each cardsmith only gets 3 entries per week.
The prizes are as follows.
The best cardsmith of the week receives 3 favorites and a trophy. The cardsmith who attains second place receives 2 favorites, and the cardsmith who attains third place get 1 favorite and the privilege to choose that week's honourable mention.
(This discussion has actually been started by the real IanLowenthal, not his bookshelf.)
These are the rules.
It must be related to the story of the week somehow, if you can, explain how it is related.
It must be Magic: the Gathering card, Pokémon and other games of its ilk will not accepted.
Each cardsmith only gets 3 entries per week.
The prizes are as follows.
The best cardsmith of the week receives 3 favorites and a trophy. The cardsmith who attains second place receives 2 favorites, and the cardsmith who attains third place get 1 favorite and the privilege to choose that week's honourable mention.
(This discussion has actually been started by the real IanLowenthal, not his bookshelf.)
This discussion has been closed.
Comments
Chapter 1
The house stood on a slight rise just on the edge of the village. It was stood on its own and looked out over a broad spread of West Country farmland. Not a remarkable house by any means---it was about thirty years old, squattish, squarish, made of brick, and had four Windows set in the front of a size and proportion which more or less exactly failed to please the eye.
The only person for whom the house was in any way special was Arthur Dent, and that was because it happened to be the one he lived in. He had lived in it for about three years, ever since he had moved out of London because it made him nervous and irritable. He was about thirty as well, tall, dark-haired and never quite at ease with himself. The thing that used to worry him the most was the fact that people always used to ask him what he was looking so worried about. He worked n local radio which he always used to tell his friends was a lot more interesting than they probably thought. It was, too---most of his friends worked in advertising.
On Wednesday night it had rained very heavily, the lane was wet and muddy, but the Thursday morning sun was bright and clear as it shone on Arthur Dent's house for what was to be the last time.
It hadn't properly registered yet with Arthur that the council wanted to knock it down and build a bypass instead.
At eight o'clock on Thursday morning Arthur didn't feel very good. He woke up blearily, got up, wandered blearily around his room, opened a window, saw a bulldozer, found his slippers, and stomped off to the bathroom to wash.
Toothpaste on the brush---so. Scrub.
Shaving mirror---pointing at ceiling. He adjusted it. For a moment it reflected a second bulldozer through the bathroom window. Properly adjusted, it reflected Arthur's bristles. He shaved them off, washed, dried and stomped off to the kitchen to find something pleasant to put in his mouth.
Kettle, plug, fridge, milk, coffee. Yawn.
The word bulldozer wandered through his mind for a moment in search of something to connect with.
The bulldozer out the kitchen window was quite a big one.
He stared at it.
"Yellow," he thought, and stomped off back to his bedroom to get dressed.
Passing the bathroom he stopped to drink a large glass of water, and another. He began to suspect that he was hung over. Why was he hung over? Had he been drinking the night before? He supposed that he must have been. He caught a glint in the shaving mirror. "Yellow," he thought, and stomped on to the bedroom.
Example
This edition ends July 29th, 2016
(If u are a girl)