Stop+and+Start+Exercises

= Challenge: =

 Write a short bit of text (paragraph, opening, etc.) using one of the prompts. The exercise must start and finish with that prompt.

= Prompts: =

 -through the window  -after a long pause  -before I could catch my breath  -inside the box  -instead of running  -just within reach  -in case you had forgotten  -under a small pile of golden leaves  -by the time we arrived

 Exercise 1:
 Just within reach, he said, was everything. Easy. If you closed one eye and looked at the stars, you could even hold one in your hand, put one in your pocket. There was the same trick you could do with the Eiffel tower, or with mammoth trees or pretty flowers too delicate to even skim over with white, eager fingertips.  I employed this trick too often to even begin counting. Every picture I attached with every postcard was of me almost-holding valuable things. Holding up leaning towers. Holding up the sky. There were other pictures too, of me nearly-poking a monkey at the local petting-zoo. Almost-inside a red carpet event. Air-hugging my girlfriend. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;"> Life is easy, when everything is just within reach.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;"> Exercise 2:
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;"> After a long pause, Tertius let the plate slip from her pale fingertips, smoothly, like the quick, lazy movement you make when you're running a palm along another to dust off flour. After a long pause, he knelt to pick up some pieces, maybe, or pick out some ceramic from his foot, maybe, or maybe to throw the bits that didn't shatter against a wall. He was unreadable and trembling and white, like her fingers, which tangled themselves uselessly at the base of her spine. After a pause, he looked up at her, eyes milky, and soft, a bleached look which may have been masking confusion, surprise. She countered the look evenly, after a pause. Her lips curled, after a pause.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;"> Exercise 3 (technically unfinished):
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;"> Through the window, he pretended to be looking at the late September sky, the washed green, the faded brown of the driveway. These three things he'd glance at in turn, the shift of his eyes glossy and sometimes a flicker, when a raven would cause a fuss or the wind would rattle the shed door, sometimes even bright, when he'd hear the tinny rattle of gravel whipping itself against the underside of passing cars. Lips pressed up against cool panes of glass, he smothered his reflection with foggy kisses, peering at the white and at the shadows of the world until he felt the condensation from his breath run down his chin.