Write This Sentence In Your Style // CHALLENGE

I saw another thread just like this and thought I’d create my own! :slight_smile:

Original Sentence: She sat down at the bar, the gorgeous man right next her flashing her a smile. This. This was the man she had come here to kill.

My Sentence: Victoria made her way to the bar, her lips swaying as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. He looked up at her then, his grin only growing as she sat beside him. He was brilliantly beautiful, the swinging lights above flickering dimly on his stark black hair. She gazed at his beautiful throat, imagining what it would be like to tear into it. This. This was the man she had come here to kill.

I can’t brain right now, but I’ll bookmark this thread.


She sad down on the bar stool her hands trembling as she reached for her wine. The liquid rippled as it drew near her lips, it’s sanguine color contrasting with her pale skin. As the cool drink met her lips, she glanced over to her right and felt her face flush before her first mouthful. Sitting to her right was an almost perfect smile. It displayed neat rows of teeth whiter than his ivory shirt. Brightening his smile was the contrasting stubble growing near it, with just enough there to seem casual without appearing unkempt. His dark, calculating eyes seemed to already be inviting her to share a drink with him in a more private settling. She could vividly imagine what such an encounter would be like. She could practically feel his hands pressed against her already, his hot breath tickling her ear. Of course, he won’t have the pleasure of holding her for long, not if her nerve didn’t fail her. She was here on a mission, and this man was her very first target.


LOVE this! Your details are so intricate, so good!


Thank you. I try to get this kind of detail in most of my stories.

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Jamie got to Peabody’s Pub shortly before nine. Tonight would be the night she extracted her revenge. There would be no chance he would recognize her dressed this way. She held the razor blade delicately between her fingers. She had practiced holding it in her teeth and would do so again before entering.

Her plan was simple. Attract him, entice him, it wouldn’t be hard. He was a simple player. When he nuzzled her neck, she would immediately slice his. It wouldn’t take more than an instant to open her lips and flick her head. She could almost feel the blood spirt out. But she would.

She sat down at the bar, the gorgeous man right next to her flashing her a smile. This. This was the man she had come here to kill.


WHOO. Wow, that’s intense! I love the pure animalistic vibes she has going on. Badass

So funny!

She hurried further into the lion’s den, searching for her target. Her boss had shown her a picture of a gorgeous man with stunning blue-grey eyes, cold and calculating. Unlike him, she had beautiful dark brown eyes; much more welcoming, but much more deadly. She checked her watch. There was time enough to wait. She decided to sit down at the bar, gently lowering herself into a chair, messing with her dark dress that was perfect for dancing-- and murder. Signalling the barman over, she glanced around. She must always keep a watchful eye, because those who don’t, especially in her profession, were always the first to go. She startled when her chocolate eyes met cold storms, staring back at her absentmindedly. This man… he was the one she had came here for. She subtly pulled out her dagger from the strap under her skirt. This wouldn’t be easy.


Claudia opened the door and the old smell of wine invaded her nose, like if that place never was sober. Now, she´s looking at for a free chair. <<The beasts are looking at me. Baited!>>, she thought. And then, her eyes were buried on a sea of roses, of delicate hearts pumping time, to a circular journey. <<She´s thinking the same>>, he thought.

-Waiter, please, a glass of wine –she said, posing her golden crystals on mines.

So she posed the glass onto her mouth and started to drink. The lipstick and the scarlet liquid were one, and I started to fill my lips with calypso. <<If she recognizes me, I´m dead.>>, he said.

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Lucy sat gently, perching herself atop the stool in as delicate a manner as she could. The man was to her right, even more stunning than she had imagined. Long lashes, sharp brow bone, full lips… she could eat him alive.

He smiled slightly, no teeth, just a little quirk upwards at the edges of his mouth. Lucy knew why he chose not to display his teeth, although she doubted anyone else in the bar did. She could sense him, sense his soul, sense the dark magic thrumming through his veins, whispering promises of delicious flames and pure power. He would be hers.

She would steal that energy, use it for her own needs, and discard the man in a dumpster outside.

He was who she was looking for. He was going to die.


She had spent nearly half an hour simply taking in the atmosphere, and dancing before sauntering up to the bar, taking a seat next to a man slowly sipping at his glass. He was gorgeous, she thought, truly as beautiful as she had been told. With wild black hair, and bright amber eyes that shone like gold in the bar’s warm lighting she understood why he drew so much attention. She pretended not to notice his gaze as it trailed over her, leaning against the counter to softly order a drink. The man of the hour stepped in without hesitation, shoving a bundle of bills the bartenders way to “buy this angel a drink.”

Predictable. They so often were.

She expertly feigned surprise, slipping a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she offered a coy thank you. He flashed a charming grin.

“No, thank you. It’s not every day a man is graced by the presence of a goddess.”

She forced a smile of her own, laughing as she’d trained herself to do all so convincingly. These men were always so boring, so unoriginal. He spoke to her as he probably had hundreds of women before her, playing his stupid game. Still she supposed there was something to be said for how openly lustfully he viewed her, his wife waiting patiently at the far end of the room.

It was so much more fun to watch these bastards uselessly beg for their lives when she could see firsthand how much better off her clients would be once they were dead and gone.


Haha me too! It’s 1am and I have an exam so I’ll be back when I can think :sob::sweat_smile::grin::+1:

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Perhaps a tad too long given the criteria and not my best attempt but, still

Adrianne Frost stepped through the open doorway of the Montague Casino, shaking the icy cold rain from her umbrella as she did. The familiar sounds of the city streets outside the, honking of horns, revving of engines and barking of stray Dogs, were soon replaced by the equally familiar sounds of a party in full swing. Laughter, casual chatter, clinking of glasses and a Jazz Band playing as if Johnny Cartwright, the owner of the Casino, himself, had offered them the sun, the moon and the earth as payment for their services.

Frost quickly adjusted the Dark Blue Fedora sitting on her head and took a moment to survey the scene. Several of the key players, including Johnny himself, were engaged in a civil game of poker, three were chatting up Women at the Craps table and two more were crowded around the roulette wheel, the telling looks on their faces indicating they’d completely blown their last few turns.

However, they were of no interest to her. No, the man she was here for, the one she’d been tasked with eliminating, was one Jimmy Toulon. Jimmy was Cartwrights Step Brother and most trusted associate, as well as the head of the Dusk light Drug Cartel. A handsome man of average height and build, Jimmy was sitting at the bar swivelling his half full glass around in his left hand and looking rather forlorn for a guy whose birthday party it was, Guess money really doesn’t buy you happiness in this town! Adrianne thought, as she briefly fiddled with the Cyanide capsule in her coat pocket

She approached the bar, purposefully, avoiding the other party goers as she did and making sure to catch the eye of the bartender. He looked up from the Highball glass he was cleaning and, upon seeing her approaching, turned to put it back on the shelf “Seats not taken, is it?” she asked, pulling the empty bar-stool, next to Jimmy’s own, toward her.

Toulon quickly looked up from his drink, startled “Oh! no, not at all” he said, smiling, a smile she quickly returned as she sat down. After a moment, he asked “Can I get you something to drink?”

She thought for a moment and then replied “Lambrusco” he nodded

“Can I get a glass of Lambrusco for my Lady Friend?” he asked, turning to the barman, “Also, give me another glass of Crown Royal, pronto” he ordered, before turning back to face her


The woman scanned the premises. All the patrons seemed to not have noticed her. Her target was having a spirited conversation with someone behind the counter. But she wasn’t interested in that.

No telltale screen by the cash register. That was good.

She was still kicking herself mentally over the fact that she had not done a dry run earlier, but the guy was a regular here, and that might have complicated things to no minor degree.

She already knew there was no CCTV outside. The block outside was meant to have them installed by last year as part of a citywide rollout, but the program had stalled. As usual.

She kept an eye on her target as he walked back over, closer to her. Too close. Right next to her. He gave her a wink and sat down. Everyone seemed to know him, and he seemed to know everybody.

He didn’t know who she was, though. That was fine. Nobody did. Not even the people who had promised to wire 50k to a certain Cayman Islands account tomorrow.

She took the opportunity to observe him for a brief moment. She could see how he had gotten to where he was. He was handsome, but in a milquetoast Instagram-chic kind of way. The kind of person you’d forget in a police lineup, but deceptively charismatic up close. He could probably waffle on for nothing much at all for hours on end and still make you feel like you had had some kind of religious experience.

She shrugged very slightly, to herself. He was nothing. Just another cog in the political machine. He would be forgotten quickly. The few family members and friends would grieve. The usual people would say some comforting words. There would be a byelection. And life would go on.

He had his back turned to his beer. Now was her chance. She uncapped the small plastic vial. With one deft movement of her hand she tipped it into the glass next to her.

The liquid swirled for a moment in the beer, spiralling as it merged into the amber liquid. within ten seconds it had completely disappeared.

She didn’t wait to see the outcome. Her job was done. She was out of here.

By the time the ambulance arrived, she was already on a train on the other side of the river, transferring a phone number scrawled on a crumpled post-it note onto the prepaid burner phone she had purchased the week prior.


Her fingers drummed against the counter, occasional hitting the side of her shot glass. One finger after another, her nails clicked sharply. Perhaps, if the bar wasn’t so loud it might have drawn attention. Either way, the movement did show something of her nerves; or was it impatience?

Just as she was about to call for another drink to pass the time, a male figure slipped into the sit beside hers. She kept her eyes trained before her, but as he settled down she couldn’t resist taking a quick glance.

He was confident. That was the first thing she noticed. The way he held himself; eyes set determinedly, back straight, and his voice. When he ordered a drink, her voice was deep and firm.

Her hand stopped, raised above the counter as a glass slid her way. Look up, she brought her mouth into a smile. The man nodded, motioning to the drink.

“Sorry, not my type,” she hastily added. “The drink.”

He watched her… carefully. Holding out a hand instead, the invitation was clear. “Shall we dance instead?”

“Yes… let’s.”

The dance of death; he was her target.
One would be leaving alive, and the other would be a corpse.


The scarlet haired woman took a seat at the crowded bar silently. The dingy smell of alcohol, smoke, and desperation permeated the air around her but seemed to not have the means to touch her otherwise flawless features. The man, well dressed, attractive by all social accounts, and further into his drinks than he wished to admit, turned his head to her and flashed an intoxicating smile at her. The hours of drinking he had already endured where nothing compared to the way her fair skin, red hair, and deep forest green eyes seemed to make his head swim. The smile she returned was genuine enough to keep him from ever suspecting what she was there for. Yes, there was no mistaking the features before her. They were a perfect match to the picture that rested in her back right pocket. This man, this wolf in sheep’s clothing, was the one she was here to kill…


When she had entered the diner, everyone noticed. Not a single sound passed the lips of those already seated beside the occasional sip of coffee or crunching of toast. It took a mere second before a young waitress greeted the woman with a smile,

“Table for one?” She had asked with a small southern accent to which the woman replied with a curt nod.

“Actually — a bar seat would be fine.” The woman corrected with a gentle voice. All eyes geared towards the beauty as with every step she took her hips swayed in a slim, short leather dress. Her black bangs covered one of her eyes as she sat next to a young man who looked to be missing a few too many teeth.

“Here is a menu and just holler when you are ready to order.” The woman nodded as she scanned over the items, she noted that it was just a bunch of ol’ southern food that had no taste what so ever. With the time that she glanced over the menu, she glanced to the gentleman giving her bust a good lookout. She huffed in silence as the hum of the TV caught her attention; it was the news showcasing the report of a new string of murders taking place from Texas to Alabama. She wanted to laugh, she was in Georgia now and she knew that her trail was starting to wear thin. She only needed a few more to make her mark, to start the beginning of something — renewed, nostalgic.

“What’s a pretty gal like you hanging out in the middle of now where Georgia?” The lack-of-teeth fellow asked, the woman glanced to him and she can tell that his heart skipped a beat as he saw her daunting maroon eyes. Her eyes always scared them.

"Small road trip. I take it you live here in — " she paused as she had to think of what city she was in now. It had taken forty-eight hours to start her trip from Los Vegas to where ever she was now. Though her end goal with New York.

“Duluth, ma’am.” She let out a small laugh as she whistled over the waitress.

“I’ll get a bacon and grits with two sides of hashbrowns. One cup of coffee for my pal next to me.” The waitress smiled and nodded while hustling to grab the menu and get the order to the chef.

“Well, ya’int gotta do that for me.” The man chuckled as the woman gave him a smile, it wasn’t for him, but for her. She was gonna need the energy after these six murders. She would be six steps closer to achieving her ultimate goal, reawakening as her former self — Lilith. Queen of hell.

(Ignore the grammar, I’m tired.)


The dame took a load off, perching on one of Rodney’s old bar stools like one of those gargoyles on top of Saint Paddy’s cathedral.

The guy next to her was half in the tank, but that didn’t matter. He knew what he was doing. He was one of them pretty boys, working for Slick Pete as a gin runner, and spending every dime that he earned on his face.

The dandy smiled, one of those sickly grins that a snake oil salesman fires off just before he makes his pitch. His cigarette hung from a mouth born to lie, stuck to his bottom lip like glue.

But he was in the wrong bar, and the bar was in the wrong city, and the city was a painted whore selling her lies for just one more wild trick. Because know it or not, like it or not, Slick Pete was gonna have one less gin runner by the time midnight rolled around.

Because I knew it from the look in her eye: This dame was looking for a different kind of good time. She had taken in the sights, she had seen the movie, she was done with dinner. She tipped the waiter, powdered her nose, and was heading for the door with a purloined butter knife in her purse.

This dame had picked her mark, and who the hell was I to get in her way? One less scumbag on the streets of this town might not make a difference. Not to me, not to the fine people that stumbled their way through this fetid metropolis. But to her, this could mean everything: Revenge. Recognition. Renown. But I’m guessing redemption.

So yeah, I knew that she’d stab him deep and twist the knife. But I’m no cop, and this ain’t my beat. And even if I was and it was: I’m off duty. So I ordered another beer and I tried my best to forget the dame’s face. But I never was good at forgetting.


Rickety doors squeal and slam closed behind Nyx as she enters the bar. The stench of cigarettes and alcohol is enough to sting unacquainted eyes. Nyx’s eyes feel no difference to this air than any other air. She sits on a rusted stool that was tucked under a giant splinter people know as the main bar here. As her tradition, she was going to order a drink after receiving her newest assignment. Before she can flag down the bartender, a man with a out-of-place well-groomed beard slides into a stool next to her. “Two shots,” the man shouts to the bartender who rolls her eyes before sending down two tiny glasses half-filled with some cheap vodka. The man catches the shots in his finger tips and pushes one in front of Nyx. He flashes her a winning smile of perfect, white teeth as his eyes wander beyond her face. Nyx smiles back at the man. She recognizes him from the pictures. This is the man she came here to kill.

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