So I thought in honor of finally returning, I’d start up something new: What The Typo.
We all make them–well, maybe not you, but I’m not an alien, so…. doesn’t count–and sometimes they can be…. quite amusing, or embarrassing. I thought since I’m about to read through about 20 pages of story I could find something that is an utter slip up. If not, maybe I am an alien.
*pokes through first three pages*
Good news (I guess) not an alien! SO MANY AWFUL SENTENCES… ugh, yay??
First terror I found
“Could you call a go a man?”
Okay, I know what that should be, but can’t help but think of someone looking at a large turd and asking if it’s, in fact, a dude.
And I’m not sure if it’s ironic, or just sad that it’s supposed to be god… *cough*. The god in question is an A+ shithead, so, at least it fits I suppose.
Next we have hissing knees…. yup.
“He [*] dropped to his knees on the hard stone, holding back a sharp hiss of pain from them.” I knew he was weird…. but hissing knees? That’s new.
[*it’s actually the mc’s name, but I don’t want to give it to the big, wide internet]
Well this one is just bad:
“”She is as fierce a warrior as I have ever met,” he spoke finally, seeking words not only to please his father, but to kill Morana from trying to kill him again.” To kill her, to kill her, to kill her so he lives. My hands can’t type while my brain is thinking, and the keyboard knows nothing (Jon Snow) ((*cough*)).
And now, to find something epic that doesn’t have a bunch of terrible typos in it!
Give me a minute…
He put a hand on [MC]’s chest. His own snapped up to grab Eshengael’s wrist, terror clawing at him at the thought of being shoved from the mountain.
Eshengael did not push him backwards though, instead, pressing down with a force which threatened to buckle [MC]’s knees.
“Father.” The word was a whisper.
“You are my son,” he said, this time with a finality. [MC] felt fingers of nausea coiling inside him. “And I cannot kill you by the laws of blood that join us. So I will not kill you.”
[MC]swallowed, meeting his eyes. The wind pushed at them both, black and white hair mingling with their closeness. His fingertips dug into Eshengael’s wrist, in an iron grip the god ignored.
“I will bury you.”
*dramactic music plays*
So that’s part of the prologue for my current story, enjoy, or flee, whatever. Byessss