Ok chaps, (and chappesses) I need your help this week.
In between American house-guests and OFSTED, I've been struggling to find time to write, but time is ticking and my self-imposed deadline for publishing Strange Ideas: Death, Destiny and Decisions is looming, so I've been doing my best. Unfortunately, snatched minutes and a tired headache do not a masterpiece make, and I have a stubbornly-rubbish phrase I need to shift.
My challenge for you this week is to help me polish this clunker- part of Later: the full ghostly tale, which is the final story in the collection (even though it was the one which began everything). I've been staring at it too long and I hate it. Take a look and see what you think:
Her car looked forlorn, its nose lost in weeds and water.
The rear lights shone bravely: the only light besides the moon, which cast an
eerie glow over the deserted marsh road. Few cars ever passed by here. No one
would have found her for hours. As she realised how close she’d come to
disaster, her legs buckled and gave way, and she sobbed into her palms where
she sat, howling with a mixture of hysteria and relief. Her cries carried
across the marsh, scaring birds and small creatures who fled from the sound. Her
chest heaved and her tears felt hot on her face and hands; they didn’t stop for
a long time.
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