Assignment Week 5

Assignment - Week 5

1. Write five examples of indirect thoughts (write your own.)

As I walked down the main street I wondered what ever put it in my mind to ask her out.

I could tell from looking at it that that shirt would never fit me but I tried it on anyway.

The model struck me with her glamour and sophistication but ruined it for me when she

picked up a cigarette.

Wearing black made me wonder if the man was trying to be Johnny Cash or Waylon Jennings.

I realized the train was going to be late again.


2. Give me five examples of direct thoughts (write your own.)



I just wanted to sleep. Does that chicken crow this time of every morning?

I wondered what Tara would look like. I can't expect much after fifteen years.

I was thirsty for a drink but would not give in to the temptation. I don't want to get drunk. I knew if I did I'd lose the poker game.

The roller coaster made me want to throw up. I can't wait to get back on it again, anyway.

I had gotten tired of eating beef stew every night. Doesn't the cook know how to cook anything
else?




3. Write a scene that uses dialogue and lots of internal dialogue (minimum 500 words.)


. Fiston Crump kneeled before the prince. Statues occupied the empty clay regions between the pillars and etchings like those Crump viewed in Pole's cave covered the walls. He felt awed by this display of opulence, having never having been aware of such a conglomeration of wealth.

Prince Fetale appraised him with a stare that made him feel like a man sprouted from a newly grown limb. Fiston wished he could cover his head. The desire to crawl under a throne of his own pervaded his senses Give me a legion of demons any time. They hold no terror next to him.

"What is this commoner doing here?" asked the prince.

"He spied for us," said Ben-gharry, "before switching over and spying for the other side. Now he has joined us again."

"What is this? He changes loyalties with the changing of the breeze? And you allow him to live?"

Crump couldn't control his nerves. He shook in place. There is nothing I can wish for but mercy, he thought. And no one I would rather choose asking for it.

"He is special," said Ben-Ghari. "He has unusual powers. He can interact with the paranormal and we think he may be more powerful than Messengers. They can't hide from him."

Prince Fetale smacked his walking rod against the dais of his seat them. "I'll never show mercy to a traitor. Take him to the dungeon, pierce his eyes with drilled holes, and drain him. Keep his Life Stream for examination. It may have interesting properties."

Crump wanted to cry out but his fear of Fleghorn's ruler overrode his desire. He reluctantly let the guards lead him out of the prince's presence and assessed his position. Although it appeared hopeless, the reality was also that he had nothing to lose. As soon as I am out of the tyrant's view he thought, I will try to escape. If I don't know what I am capable of, they surely don't know..

The tunnel out of the courtyard led down a spiraling passageway. It reminded Crump of the hole produced by a giant stream of magma coursing through a tidal pool as the water circled in rings. Breezes from side channels chilled the sparse uniform he was supplied with as a prisoner. Occasional flares of orange light cast luminosity on the side ducts. Crump heard cries of suffering emanate from these cells. He felt a desire to rid them of their pain but knew his plight was worse.

He couldn't let his captors get him to the prison. If he did, they would be successful in carrying out the prince's sentence. He expanded his perspective of the supernatural as the guards led him down the path. Nothing registered in his consciousness. "Where are you my friends?"

Nothing.

When I need the spirits more than at any time in my life they are not listening, he thought. "Where are you?"

A blast of pulsations concussed in his brain. The message he received held no subtlety or disguise. His spirits were angry for his betraying of the Light powers. He had mistakenly assumed they answered to him. I have it backwards. I am here to do their will.



4. Now re-write this scene using as little internal dialogue as possible, don't eliminate it all, unless that is really called for. Use the checklist that I gave you in the lesson.



Fiston Crump kneeled before the prince. Statues occupied the empty clay regions between the pillars of formed Dough and etchings like those Crump viewed in Pole's cave covered the walls. He felt awed by this display of opulence, having never having been aware of such a conglomeration of wealth.

Prince Fetale appraised him with a stare that made him feel like a man sprouted from a newly grown limb. Fiston wished he could cover his head. The desire to crawl under a throne of his own pervaded his senses. He scares me, thought Clump. He believed the prince was even more frightening than a legion of demons.

"What is this commoner doing here?" asked the prince. "What is this commoner doing here?" asked the prince.

"He spied for us," said Ben-ghari, "before switching over and spying for the other side. Now he has joined us again."

"What is this? He changes loyalties with the changing of the breeze? And you allow him?" Crump couldn't control his nerves. He shook in place, wishing for mercy but realizing there was no one less he'd rather ask for it from.

"He's special," said Ben-Ghari. "He has unusual powers. He can contact the paranormal and we think he may be more powerful than Messengers. They can't hide from him."

Prince Fetale smacked his burnt walking rod against the dais of his seat them. "I'll never show mercy to a traitor. Take him to the dungeon, drill holes through his eyes, and drain him. Empty his Life Stream and hold it. It might be worth taking a look at."

"He's special," said Ben-Ghari. "He has unusual powers. He can contact the spirit world and we think he may be able to counter the will of Messengers. We have tested him and learned they can't hide from him."

Prince Fetale smacked his burnt walking rod against the dais of his seat them. "I'll never show mercy to a traitor. Take him to the dungeon, drill holes through his eyes, and drain them. Empty his Life Stream and save it. It might be worth taking a look at."

Crump wanted to express his opposition but his fear of Fleghorn's ruler overrode his desire. He reluctantly let the guards lead him out of the prince's presence and assessed his position. Although it appeared hopeless, the reality was also that he had nothing to lose. He decided to escape before he reached the cell chosen for him. If I don't know what I am capable of, they surely don't know, he thought.

The tunnel out of the courtyard led down a spiraling passageway. It reminded Crump of the hole produced by a giant stream of magma coursing through a tidal pool of water as the water circled in rings. The sparse uniform he was supplied with as a prisoner, didn't protect him from breezes in side channels of the cavern. Occasional flares of orange light cast luminosity on the side ducts. Crump heard cries of suffering emanate from these cells. He felt a desire to rid them of their pain but knew he had his own predicament.

He couldn't let his captors get him to the prison. If they did, they would be successful in carrying out the prince's sentence. He expanded his perspective to encompass the supernatural as the guards led him down the path. Nothing registered in his consciousness. "Where are you my friends?"

Nothing.

"Where are you?"

A blast of pulsations concussed in his brain. The message he received held no subtlety or disguise. His spirits were angry for his betrayal of the powers of the Light. He had mistakenly assumed they answered to him. I have it backwards. I am theirs to do what they want with and not the other way around.

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