One plump flake fell like a feather from the sky and landed on the tip of the moose’s furry nose. He could feel it land with a gentle plink that rhymed with the glass chime. Another thick flake landed on Bridget’s ripe, red cheek. Soon, the air around was filled with thick flecks. Bridget stirred slowly as they speckled her bare face, neck, and hands. She felt the deep hurt and tried to see through closed eyes. She whimpered.
The moose turned his head to look at her; he was not alone. She was wiggling her fingers, started to ease the left hand towards her cracked eyebrow where a black bruise was already forming. The right eye fluttered open, looked down. She groaned as she pushed gently against the tender skin.
In the same instant that she tried to move she cried out. The moose started and huffed in alarm. Her head snapped up at him, and she cried out from the menace of pain and surprise.
“Jesus CHRIST!” She drew away from him, and then cried out, reached down to her legs, howled again when she felt the broken bottom ribs. “Ohhh my God…” she whispered and saw the black seeping into her eyes again. She slumped against the window.
The moose snorted and wiggled, shaking the car as he tried in desperation to flee. Bridget shook and moaned with each movement. His back legs would not move underneath. Sound gurgled from him, the fear instinctively gearing him to run, the pain of the back leg preventing it.
“Shhhh, no, no, don’t,” Bridget mustered. “Don’t shake us…”
The moose made one last strain, the back right leg found the strength to push up and the left faltered. He fell back with a quitter’s grunting sigh that pulled her eyes open. Like a dream, the clown sat next to her, staring at her with wide, wild eyes.
“Yeah. Just stay put.” The moose stared back at her, his huffing nostrils flaring as big as his thick brown eyes. He started to move again and she dragged him back. “Shhh, no, no. It’s okay. Don’t move.” He didn’t. “What happened, eh?” She put her head back against the window. “This is totally insane. Am I dead?” She rolled her neck to look at him. “Are we dead?” He stared at her, puffing the cold air in and out. She closed her eyes. “We must be dead.” She was starting to go numb all over. She felt the cold creeping in, the darkness came with it, and she drooped with weariness.
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The moose snorted and wiggled, shaking the car as he tried in desperation to flee. Bridget shook and moaned with each movement. His back legs would not move underneath. Sound gurgled from him, the fear instinctively gearing him to run, the pain of the back leg preventing it.
that passage ha awkward use of pronouns. latter part of sentence after reference to Bridget was confusing... I thought it was reference to her at first. restructure it?
I haven't read fictional stuff in a while, and to be honest, it just doesn't really appeal to me right now (sorta like I can't get into movies so I don't watch them... same thing)
so yeah
...so you understand :)
you still rock,
ya know?
ya know :)
huuuug!
I like what you've got going here. This is bad, but I can't help thinking of "Black Sheep" where they have the deer they hit in their back seat and it comes to life. This is far better though. I wonder if a description of the crash might help ease the reader into things. I can't tell if that'd be any good or not though because I don't know the rest of the story. Maybe Bridget will talk about the crash with the moose at some point and get it out that way. Maybe it doesn't need to be out there at all. I enjoy the image of the moose clown. That's pretty good. I wonder if you could bring even more description and imagery into the piece. It's snowing, but is there a wind? What's the weather like exactly? I smell pine trees, does Bridget, the moose? Maybe there's a hint of burnt rubber, or oil, or gas in the air as well, or maybe it's more than a hint. The warmth of blood must be somewhere. Is the road paved? Might there be an owl hooting somewhere. The wind chime of the glass is great! I loved that. On the other hand, you still need to tell your story and not get too caught up in just describing. Still, I think you can do a better job of putting the reader right inside that VW. Right now I'm maybe just a bit distanced.
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