This is not a scoff and mock session. I get enough of that at lunch. These are two passages from my Intermediate Fiction class last semester. Same girl. Man...she's got a future.
He returned the door to its resting position with the lock in place, leaving the girls alone again with the unrelenting desert heat and the obscene lullaby of the Indians in the distance.
The sweat on the mans face multiplied under the stare of the sun.
This kind of writing threatens to make all the other garbage worth reading, but not really. Still, it's pretty nice to know someone cares about their sentences.