16
The far side beckoned, a lover’s glimpse, but between the river’s banks fierce rapids churned. Slick rock promised a deadly fall, while the sucking water, forever folding onto itself, rumbled tympanic threats. To cross here was suicide. Yet, retreat offered a worse fate, the admission of failure, his dreams of conquest ruined.
17
A woolly-bear caterpillar crawled in syncopated locomotion across her arm. Its tiny feet brushing pale blond hairs to ticklish attention. With a poke she directed it to the side. It responded in sea urchin fashion, a spiny ball tumbling to the ground.
Continued…
https://davecline.wordpress.com/2019/09/21/sepscenewrimo-16-22/
Anonymole - apocryphal agitators 
Maybe its because I’m writing a confused, and confusedly writing a conspiracy-esque caper but I get the feeling that my comments are disappearing in droves across the internet…
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All our eggs in the internet basket. A frightening concept now that I think about it.
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The far side beckoned, a lover’s glimpse, but between the river’s banks fierce rapids churned…To cross here was suicide. Yet, retreat offered a worse fate, the admission of failure, his dreams of conquest ruined.”
The metaphor, rich, the words, intrepid, and the message, profound. Brilliant as always, my friend.
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Thanks.
So far, the whole SepSceneWriMo experiment has been revealing. My approach, silly to serious, technical to story willful have opened my eyes to an author’s context I’d not previously embraced (if I knew was even there).
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