Readers, FYI
Jun. 3rd, 2004 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
franceslievensThe second chapter of The Water is coming on smoothly -- even better than I thought it would go a couple of days ago. If you want to know what it's all about, you can read the first chapter at my website. For a taste of the second chapter: hidden in the cut are the first two paragraphs.
[I'm translating this on the spot from the Dutch text you'll find further down. Please don't be offended by any spelling mistakes and my crooked English grammar]
2.
She came – panting – at the door. Shivers ran down her back. She was soaking wet through and through. Her deep breaths made the quivers into regular shocks in the low of her back. Leaning on the doorpost she sought and found her balance again. No, it wasn't a good idea en she didn't know anymore why she did it. One last long sigh calmed her muscles and senses. She put the key in the lock.
Or not. The door was ajar. She pushed to watch – to see. The sight was disarray. Her thoughts said: "Theft!" Police had to be called. Uniformes had to solve this. Yolande knew who was guilty. But before she could convert her internal orders into actions, she was attacked by a wave of panic. What if the room... She ran. She tripped over her clothes, over her shoes, scrambled to her feet again, rushed up the stairs, through the hallway. She pulled the door and saw: disarray – mess – destruction.
2.
Ze kwam – hijgend – bij de deur. Rillingen liepen over haar rug. Door- en doornat was ze. Haar diepe ademstoten maakten van de trilling regelmatige schokken in haar onderrug. Steunend op de deurpost zocht en vond ze opnieuw haar evenwicht. Nee, een goed idee was het niet en ze wist ook niet meer zo goed waarom ze dit deed. Een laatste lange zucht kalmeerde haar spieren en zintuigen. Ze stak de sleutel in het slot.
Of niet. De deur stond op een kier. Ze duwde ertegen om te kijken – om te zien. De aanblik was wanorde. Haar gedachten zeiden: “Diefstal!” Politie moest gebeld worden. Uniformen moesten dit oplossen. Yolande wist wie schuldig was. Maar voor ze haar interne bevelen kon omzetten in daden, werd ze overvallen door paniek. Wat als de kamer… Ze holde. Ze viel over haar kleren, over haar schoenen, krabbelde weer overreind, stormde de trap op, de gang door. Ze rukte aan de deur en zag: wanorde – rotzooi – vernieling.
So, anyone up to reading the full version in a couple of weeks? (Or maybe even before, so I can take the obvious mistakes out before I put it online...)
[I'm translating this on the spot from the Dutch text you'll find further down. Please don't be offended by any spelling mistakes and my crooked English grammar]
2.
She came – panting – at the door. Shivers ran down her back. She was soaking wet through and through. Her deep breaths made the quivers into regular shocks in the low of her back. Leaning on the doorpost she sought and found her balance again. No, it wasn't a good idea en she didn't know anymore why she did it. One last long sigh calmed her muscles and senses. She put the key in the lock.
Or not. The door was ajar. She pushed to watch – to see. The sight was disarray. Her thoughts said: "Theft!" Police had to be called. Uniformes had to solve this. Yolande knew who was guilty. But before she could convert her internal orders into actions, she was attacked by a wave of panic. What if the room... She ran. She tripped over her clothes, over her shoes, scrambled to her feet again, rushed up the stairs, through the hallway. She pulled the door and saw: disarray – mess – destruction.
2.
Ze kwam – hijgend – bij de deur. Rillingen liepen over haar rug. Door- en doornat was ze. Haar diepe ademstoten maakten van de trilling regelmatige schokken in haar onderrug. Steunend op de deurpost zocht en vond ze opnieuw haar evenwicht. Nee, een goed idee was het niet en ze wist ook niet meer zo goed waarom ze dit deed. Een laatste lange zucht kalmeerde haar spieren en zintuigen. Ze stak de sleutel in het slot.
Of niet. De deur stond op een kier. Ze duwde ertegen om te kijken – om te zien. De aanblik was wanorde. Haar gedachten zeiden: “Diefstal!” Politie moest gebeld worden. Uniformen moesten dit oplossen. Yolande wist wie schuldig was. Maar voor ze haar interne bevelen kon omzetten in daden, werd ze overvallen door paniek. Wat als de kamer… Ze holde. Ze viel over haar kleren, over haar schoenen, krabbelde weer overreind, stormde de trap op, de gang door. Ze rukte aan de deur en zag: wanorde – rotzooi – vernieling.
So, anyone up to reading the full version in a couple of weeks? (Or maybe even before, so I can take the obvious mistakes out before I put it online...)
