It was a small flat sound, but a great chip of plaster flew.

Chips of stone and wood flew at them with explosive force.

A tiny chip flew off one stone and embedded itself in his neck.

There was a dull explosion, and chips of rock flew up.

The dense wood cracked and a few chips flew away.

Chips of wood from Arthur's shield flew into the air.

Another crack appeared, parallel to the first, and chips of wood flew into the room.

The damage was considerable, with concrete chips flying in all directions.

A chip off the old block, except his piece flew in an entirely different direction.

The chip flew from his hand as he staggered backward, tasting blood.