It was dark grey, coarse-grained and polished. Probably granite. It was headless and seated on some stylised chair. It had to weigh several tons. Three arms stuck out from the torso. The hands, each holding some symbol he couldn’t identify, looked a bit like early, Egyptian sculpture, but the signs that were carved on the arms were not hieroglyphs. They didn’t look like any sort of writing he’d seen before. Tolkien’s Elfish maybe? It was old. The way the edges of the carved scripture was worn told him so. He wondered if the floor of the apartment could even hold this behemoth.
His friends had told him that she was too wild, too crazy, too promiscuous, too hungry. They had said a lot of things that was not in his new girlfriend's favour – their reluctance towards her hard to distinguish from downright resentment.
But all he could think about was how on earth she had managed to get this thing up to the fourth floor.
Ooh, this makes you think. Lots going on in there, but sometimes you don't have to resolve mysteries.
Have a !BEER
I try to just think of the immediate implications, and let the rest be as unknown to myself as it is to the reader. I often think that the beginning is more interesting than the end. Making a great introduction often succeeds while making a food ending seldom does. Especially in American films where you halfway through know how it ends. So this is the easy part :)
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