A few years ago, I spent a few weeks regularly using Writing Streak, back when it was free (and IMO had a nicer interface). While digging through my files looking for material for this site, I found my export from that time. There are a few pieces that aren't too embarrassing, so I'll be reposting them here with a little cleanup.
This is a partial retelling of a famous story.
"They say the clan was silent. So silent, really, that he thought that he was all alone. In a sense, he was alone. Him and the boy. He had been called, and all had heard it. Nobody believed that such a thing could be true. The barbarian gods asked such things from their followers, but not from them."
"He walked up the hill, slowly, as if each step took a day's sweat. With one hand on the boy's back, he treaded up to the summit. The stone was there, as he had been told, a flat slab of volcanic shale. The indentation seemed almost made to fit the boy."
"He bade the boy to stand by the stone and walked around. There was a thick vine growing not far from there, and he cut it loose with the knife he used for removing stones from a sheep's hoof. He came back and bound the boy's hands."
"All around him, you could hear the breath of his clansfolk. They were here to witness this crime the gods had ordered, and they would take him away to meet the punishment that was worthy of his deeds."
"He bound the boy's feet, next, and lifted him onto the slate. The boy, obedient to his father and to his god, did not cry out, but looked to his father's face for one last glimpse. His father averted his eyes, and lifted his shepherd's knife, and at that moment-"