<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<feed xmlns:icbm="http://postneo.com/icbm" xml:lang="en-us" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">
  <title>Comments on 'Gwen'</title>
  <subtitle>&amp;quot;Nice place,&amp;quot; she added. &amp;quot;I don't normally LARP, but you could totally do a cool session up here.&amp;quot;

&amp;quot;Much better than doing it in a graveyard,&amp;quot; she added, making a face.

Reinhardt was caught somewhere between utter bafflement and frank adoration. Being a man of Science, he decided to go with the former.

&amp;quot;Who th-the b-b-bloody Hell are you?&amp;quot; He needed to calm down - he was starting to sound like _Lorencz_.

&amp;quot;I'm Gwen,&amp;quot; she said, stepping uninvited through the door. She was shorter than Reinhardt liked, and hippier, and he preferred the long tresses and obsolete fashion-sense of his beloved Anna (killed by first creature) and adored Elizabeth (died fleeing second creature) or doomed Celeste (fell off bicycle and plummeted into bottomless crevasse - oh, how satisfying to be the one suing those damn villagers for a change!). But she had spunk and eyes of jade, the full bosom of a fair sweet maid, upon which (he dreamt) his head was laid-

Reinhardt stopped trying to make a poem. It wasn't his calling.</subtitle>
  <updated>2007-09-26T20:41:02Z</updated>
  <id>http://ficlets.com/feed/story/10290</id>
  <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://ficlets.com/blog"/>
  <link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ficlets.com/blog/feed"/>
  <link rel="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5/" title="Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License"/>
  <entry>
    <title type="text">Comment on Gwen</title>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://ficlets.com/stories/10290"/>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;The random third death was a nice touch, and the rhyming was good.  Funny how men are ever hopeful, even when odds are not in their favor.&lt;/p&gt;</content>
    <id>http://ficlets.com/stories/10290?basename=14451</id>
    <published>2007-09-26T20:41:02Z</published>
    <author>
      <name>THX 0477</name>
      <uri>http://ficlets.com/authors/thx_0477</uri>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="text">Comment on Gwen</title>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://ficlets.com/stories/10290"/>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best line:&lt;/strong&gt; &amp;#8220;Reinhardt stopped trying to make a poem. It wasn&#8217;t his calling.&amp;#8221; &lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;I also loved the part about his wives&amp;#8217; deaths.&lt;/p&gt;</content>
    <id>http://ficlets.com/stories/10290?basename=14425</id>
    <published>2007-09-26T18:04:45Z</published>
    <author>
      <name>Alexa &#9829;</name>
      <uri>http://ficlets.com/authors/alexa1018</uri>
    </author>
  </entry>
</feed>
