Purple Prose me

[icedark_elf]

That's right. Time to whip out those books of word things you keep around. Time to see what the purplest prose someone can come up with. From a genetic sentence, try to come up with the most long winded, overly dramatic, cliche-filled bit of trite piece of crap sentence that you can come up with. Feel free to build off other peoples word. Don't forget to see if you can work in who it might be that you are talking about. All fandoms welcomed, just remember to wear your boots, it'll probably get pretty deep in here.

The Sentence:

"He/She looked into the sunset."

Come on, spam me. You know you wanna.

Comments

[agunagirlafix.livejournal.com]

I went for the allusions that don't fit and well... long-winded-ness with the deep dark sensationalist victorian novel feel. Enjoy.



She looked off into the sunset, the dire feeling of dysphoria cutting through her body, showing her, that once again, she must have had bad blood, humors that didn't balance each other out, and the most tragic part (so the nanny had gossiped) was she had known this ever since she a child, illness striking her so many times at a young age (scarlet fever, mumps, measles, ill fated planet, dizziness and every sort of ailment a young woman could have) leaving her blind eventually, fate's wheel so horribly spun for her, and she could only know she was staring off at the sinking sun, such a tragedy of fate (O! Blood red sun, will you rise anew?), from the slowly deepening darkness that was overtaking her, not just in her vision but in her body as well; they had brought her to the ocean-side to see if it could help her black lung, the big C, the cancer they all refused to talk about, small euphemisms hidden here and there in her room, only driving her to the cliff, to breathe in that "healing" sea air they claimed would help her recover, yet these hypocrites, these nurses leading her to death normally kept her locked up in her room, afraid that perhaps she needed to be quarantined, and they were so far away, a doctor couldn't tell them, so she was here where she was watching that blood red sun she couldn't actually see sink beyond the ship-filled horizon, the balmy sea wind playing with her tragically tangled blonde hair, the lighthouse beacon being lit, signaling that the sun had indeed set, and it was then, just then that she realized this was where she wanted to breathe her last breath, not in that god-forsaken room with white walls, blood stains, and a chamber pot that never seemed to get emptied, just knowing that the nurses had been lying (her humors were out of balance, the bile was no good, and above all the bleeding, the leeches, she couldn't take it anymore, the blood she had coughed up earlier staining her lace collar) and so she simply stepped forward two paces, stumbling a bit as she felt the edge of the cliff, but made no motion to keep her slender, emaciated body from tumbling over, falling off the steep pike, her body landing supine on the rocks where the ocean met the cliff, blood slowly fanning out in the water, and in death she could never know the farmer boy who they had hired to make sure she could find where she was going, ever since she was six, the farmer's boy who helped her get dressed, the farmer's boy who did her every bidding, and of course, the farmer's boy who had loved her had been walking up, but she was too self absorbed in her own thoughts to hear him say, "Oh, you must be my Annabelle Lee, for I love you so truly that even the angels envy our love, striking you, day after day with ailment and curses, just trying to keep you and I separated, my Annabelle Lee and now I see, now I see, you have found our kingdom in the sea."

[agunagirlafix.livejournal.com]

...okay. Nothing like Greek allusions and writing a sentence of 1,024 words. I seriously deserve a prize for this. I had to cut it in half at the semi-colon so that it would fit into a comment.

She looked off into the sunset, the dire feeling of dysphoria cutting through her body, showing her, that once again, she must have had bad blood, humors that didn't balance each other out, and the most tragic part (so the nanny had gossiped) was she had known this ever since she a child, illness striking her so many times at a young age (scarlet fever, mumps, measles, ill fated planet, dizziness and every sort of ailment a young woman could have) leaving her blind eventually, fate's wheel so horribly spun for her, and she could only know she was staring off at the sinking sun, such a tragedy of fate (O! Blood red sun, will you rise anew?), from the slowly deepening darkness that was overtaking her, not just in her vision but in her body as well, as she thought about what the nurse had said to her this morning, stroking her shoulder blades and ribs (she was getting too skinny now) and telling her she had angel wings, the way her shoulder blades jutted out of her fair skin, but no, she knew better, she had no angel wings, she was sick, and all the food they gave her came up, crimson blood stained, leaving her bone structure more prominent, so skinny she was a woman a man could never want, a woman who could never bear a child simply because the wheel of fate had designated that every moment of her life she would be attended, whether by the farmer's boy, a nurse, or a doctor, just too ill to take care of herself, too fragile to lace up her bodice (though now, they gave her dresses without bodices, afraid that the squeeze could easily break one of her tender ribs, puncturing her lung and ending it all), and too fragile to even feed herself the mush they had her eat, and of course, she was just too skinny to bear a child, as men would be looking for a Venus with soft curves and big breasts, wide hips and beautiful eyes, not this stick figure, looking like a peasant girl who had been discarded by her parents when they couldn't find enough food for her to eat and couldn't scrounge up a dowry to marry her off, but no, it wasn't even her figure that kept her from marriage, it was the blood on the sheets when she woke up, the dangerous coughs;

[agunagirlafix.livejournal.com]

they had brought her to the ocean-side to see if it could help her black lung, the big C, the cancer they all refused to talk about, only mentioning the tuberculosis, small euphemisms hidden here and there in her room, and occasionally in the kitchen and sitting room when she was left out, and this was only driving her to the cliff, to breathe in that "healing" sea air they claimed would help her recover, yet these hypocrites, these nurses inevitably leading her to her untimely demise (perhaps they even poisoned her food, not that it would help) normally kept her locked up in her room, afraid that perhaps she needed to be quarantined, and they were so far away, a doctor couldn't tell them, so she was here where she was watching that blood red sun she couldn't actually see sink beyond the ship-filled horizon, the balmy sea wind playing with her tragically tangled blonde hair, the lighthouse beacon being lit, signaling that the sun had indeed set, and it was then, just then that she realized this was where she wanted to breathe her last breath, not in that god-forsaken room with white walls, blood stains, and a chamber pot that never seemed to get emptied, just knowing that the nurses had been lying (her humors were out of balance, the bile was no good, and above all the bleeding, the leeches, she couldn't take it anymore, the blood she had coughed up earlier staining her lace collar) and so she simply stepped forward two paces, dark tears streaming down her face silently, leaving salt-trails, her dying body and spirit too dehydrated to properly cry, and she stumbled a bit as she felt the edge of the cliff, but made no motion to keep her slender, emaciated, uncared for body from tumbling over, falling off the steep pike, her blind eyes neither able to read the "beware of cliff" sign, nor see the edge of the rocky summit, but her purpose was clear enough as her body landed supine on the rocks where the ocean met the cliff, blood slowly fanning out in the water, pearling out in that tragic way that only blood mixes with water, sinking slowly to the bottom, curious fish darting through the substance as their home became murkier and murkier, and in death she could never know the farmer boy who they had hired to make sure she could find where she was going, ever since she was six, the farmer's boy who helped her get dressed, the farmer's boy who did her every bidding, and of course, the farmer's boy who had loved her, the only man who could ever love such a woman, but the sort of man that would never tell it to her face, the shy romantic that every woman looks for, but none can find, simply because he is too busy penning love sonnets or reading Shakespeare, thinking of his girl, the girl that he loved, but could never openly tell her, the simple farmer's boy had been walking up, but she was too self absorbed in her own thoughts to know that he was one person who would never give up grieving at her death, or to hear him opine, "Oh, now I know that you must be my Annabelle Lee, for I love you so truly that it must be the angels that envy our love, striking you, day after day with ailments and curses, even just as an infant, wanting and trying to keep you and I separated, my Annabelle Lee, and now I see, now I see, you have found our kingdom in the sea," and the wind just answered him, tossing his brown curls in the air, that balmy sea air that was supposed to cure cancer, the black lung, and tuberculosis.




There. That's it. Don't hurt me.

[renquestor.livejournal.com]

She looked into the sunset for the last time; as the light made it's way into her brain, the bullet quickly followed splattering the back of her head onto a bed of now crimson sand, the body falling slowly, ever so slowly, onto the ground with little more than a whisper, and as the body fell a voice, seemingly from on high boomed out over sea....HEADSHOT!!!!

[pegunicent.livejournal.com]

He looked into the sunset, not really seeing the dramatic play of light and color so much as the water below the raging ball of thermonuclear activity passing by the local atmosphere, as the water reflected the rays of solar radiation into his oculars merely by the happenstance that his face was pointed in the general direction of best reflectivity, a dramatic setting indeed if the subject of his intense brooding wasn’t so… so purple really, was the only term that came to his overtaxed neurons (he’d been giving the matter enough serious thought to cause mental strain in areas of the brain not even associated with higher functioning, ((the hypothalamus was considering mutiny in order to shut down the frontal lobe in order to return to a state at least in the vicinity of homeostasis)) as evidenced by the complete lack of awareness of the burning ball of hydrogen descending along the horizon in front of him) and the only term that incorporated the problem posed to him was purple, though to any kind of rational species this does not make any sort of logical sense it was apt in its own bizarre and overly theatrical form, yes the term in mind was purple but naming the term did not alleviate the problem which was of course something that had nothing at all to do with sunsets or lakes or even himself on a shore gazing blindly at a mid-class star from planet side, and not even to do with the color purple itself butt he evocations that purple as a term evoked within the subspecies of homo-sapien females between the ages of eleven earth years and twenty-five percents of a decade Gaian time standard,(this being two times earth years by the standard galactic clock ((said clock operated on Penal 154 by gnomes in rubber suite to survive the toxic atmosphere and carnivorous rocks)) and no where accessible to earthling hairless ape descendants) in short, if the numbers were crunched and outliers figured into the grand scheme of things, with the answer always being equal to forty-two, *why* was purple the favorite color of the vast majority of human women when their male counterparts were generally flesh colored and would painting males this shade of violet aid in preservation of the endangered species whose extinction was almost assured due to the invention of the internet and free porn?

[umbra-elf.livejournal.com]

The brilliant orange, magenta, and honey colored sky bled into a soft, darker indigo color that streteched endlessly into the horizon, but she was so enriched in her sorrow that she barely noticed it as she looked beyond her meager existance.