His coat flapped around his ankles as he strode down the dark street. He jiggled his keys in his hand and whistled along to the music streaming from his headphones. The walk sign flicked on as he reached the corner, but he still turned his head to look for cars coming. Even after a year and a half of living in Brooklyn, he hadn't grown accustomed to the one way streets. He liked it though. He wasn't quite sure why, but he liked living in New York.
I'm tagging TRS to write the next paragraph. TRS, you tag someone to write the paragraph after yours. Etc, etc, until we get back to me and then we start over until we finish the story.
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Suddenly, a shot rang out. And then another. And another. Shots, that is. Suffice it to say that our hero was nonplussed, and quickly looked around for one of the ubiquitious rookie cops who had been hanging out on every street corner for the last few months. They were nowhere to be found. Our hero realized that the shots had been fired at him, and he looked around for some cover. There wasn't any, and he ducked. All this took less time than it took to write, but the murderous assailants were not to be denied, and our hero was soon lying in a puddle of blood.
Ok le7, your turn.
Well I posted my response on my blog to make this more interesting and I tagged Sarabonne.
Where did this idea sprout from?
"Until you finish"?
Talk about "Ulysses".
I like the "The Boxer" theme, although it seems it turned into "crime and punishment" in a hurry.
love it!!
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