An Excerpt

Since John has posted poetry (and good poetry, at that) on his blog, the vice of envy has prompted me to put up prose. 'Tis an excerpt, the best paragraph out of all that I have written so far, and I hope you enjoy it. Take this, John.

She was almost invisible next to the structure. The black dress and veil were easily indiscernible in front of the dark, clay-like stone of the cathedral. But he noticed her. Mascara was running down her cheek from behind her crepe veil. She had no handkerchief or tissue, allowing the tears to stain her face in reoccurring rivulets. He stared at her. He found it odd that she was mourning: a church this size would have had a funeral procession or church bells or some sign that one of their parish has perished. He found it odd that she was mourning silently, her frail frame not wracked with sobs—no wails common to widows. He found it odd, but there she stood, on the steps of this church he had never seen before, silent tears and no signs of death. Maybe she was there early.

The rest of what I have is crap and needs a lot of work. In fact, the paragraph above needs a bit of work, but I like it the most out of everything else. I'm hoping the other story that I have planned will turn out better. At any rate, I guess I should be happy that I have not simply abandoned this story like many of its predecessors. Maybe I'll post more, if any of you who read my blog want me to.