#about why you think your action of terrorizing your soldier neighbor does anything actionable for those harmed by your neighbor

[cheesebearger]

yeah sure death to america and the american war machine but you all understand youre not actually doing anything by purposely setting off fireworks to trigger military vets? like i dont even get it. what does that even do. it doesnt do anything about the people they possibly hurt overseas, it doesn't help their victims, it doesn't even protest military action abroad. it's just a deliberately malicious action that serves to make someone's life less pleasant. i guess if that's what you wanna do, go you. but i just don't see how any of it does anything to combat american militarism. just seems like diet propaganda of the deed

[stone-man-warrior]

February 13, 2021: 3:00 pm:

====================================================

I have a example of Gnosis that was presented to Los Angeles Unified School District students in the early 1970′s.

This Gnosis inclusion in printed required reading material may be possible to find and study further, was a “Life or Death” sort of a COVID Test in the 1970′s where a book report could get a elementary student killed if they say the wrong thing in the report.

The assignment was to read Lord of the Flies by British Author William Golding, then to write a book report about the events that those young stranded people faced while trapped on a deserted island after their airplane crashed there.

I think it’s last final chapter in the book (is) where the Gnosis shows up, and, it could prove to be that entire novel is a work of Gnosis for weeding out non-paratrooper Canadian terror soldiers who landed in great number in San Fernando Valley California in 1970 - 1971.

That last chapter included that at least two people on parachutes had come out of the shy (sky) and landed on the island where Lord of the Flies took place. The parachuting people did not land, but fell, is the way I remember it, and they had gas masks on when the children found them there, as they had hoped some help had come, it was some other thing, not help, and the children spent some time trying to determine who the dead parachuting guests were.

So, the way I did the report, is I read the book twice, then I decided that the part where those people came parachuting out of the sky was a mistake made at the printer, and I approached my book report as if that chapter belonged in a different book, not Lord of the Flies, was a mistake, and that I had somehow managed to pick up a defective book to do the report with. So, my report stopped abruptly at the close of the chapter before the one when those parachute wearing, gas mask donning intruders had come to the island.

The teacher asked about that, why I stopped without including the last part of the book, and my response was that the book was wrong, my book was defective and contained parts of a different book, so, I wrote about the other parts of the book. I got an A on the report. I lived. Others at the school began to vanish, all of my friends were said to have moved away to other places.

Some things to consider about the usefulness of such Gnosis, rely’s on real knowledge, only those who know that thousands of paratrooper terror soldiers landed in Southern California in the 1970′s will understand or be willing to consider why Lord of the Flies is only one of many ways for the terror leadership to reach the terror army that landed there. The paratroopers in Southern California came in tandem, two per parachute, one adult male, and one child on each parachute. The children ranged in age from about 8 years old to about 12 years old. The children started attending Los Angeles Unified School District Schools. Some of the paratroopers did not land safely. Some got hung up on power lines, some of the parachutes failed to open, and some were injured simply because it was dangerous event.

That report assignment based on a book where the premise is about a crashed airplane filled with children on a deserted island where a “Pig” is used as a religious figure head among the stranded group, and so many other details, all serve as fodder for a child terror soldier to say details about their presence, while writing a book report to a terror teacher substitute while the real teachers are away at a educational enrichment “inservice” day somewhere else. That book report gave opportunity to write something about who made it alive, and who did not. If there were injured terror soldiers, that book report was a way to say who and where the injured, or dead ones, were at, and about where parachutes could have been lodged in trees or power lines or other places where they got hung up on the way down.

I once found one of the parachute harnesses, not the chute. That one I found in a remote place at the east end of DeSoto Ave where there is a very old dam structure made of rocks at Browns Canyon Road where the 118 freeway overpass is at, in 1978, about seven years after the paratroopers landed. I’ll describe the harness when I get an interview from US national security personnel.

Think about that Lord of the Flies Gnosis assignment, and all of the simplified details I provided for you here, to see how Gnosis is bad for Freedom, and serves the terror pirates.

I have a lot to say about my youth in Southern California, but no one to say it to.

===========================================

4:03 pm:

Do a Bing search for “Map of Quebec”:

It brings up this image:

Wait about three to five seconds, and the internet terror pirates put an overlay on top of the map you want to look at, the overlay erases the word “Quebec” and it happens live, as you are looking at it.

Later, when the information is shared, like I am doing, Justin Trudeau will go hide under his house in the basement and call his national Canadian Security forces to say that the information showing that the word Quebec has been erased was done because the person who presented the information is planning to explode Justin Trudeau, in Quebec, and that is why he is hiding in the basement under his house.

If the overlay is put on my view of a search result to cover up the word “Quebec” then it will happen to anyone who has drawn the attention of global terrorists such as Justin Trudeau.

For the record, I don‘t have any desire to explode Justin Trudeau or Quebec. That is not my job. I do think the world would be far safer if Quebec and Justin Trudeau exploded, either on their own or by actions taken by Global Security Forces. But like I said, that is not my job, others are in charge of that kind of thing. I am only an elderly disabled man who is a Medicare beneficiary, so, I can’t be expected to do that level of Global housekeeping, others who better equipped, and in better health are responsible for ridding the world of places like Quebec.

This is also a place of interest, the whole thing with exception of some parts of Ireland is the way it looks. I used to say Scotland was not of interest, but that changed, it’s all bad news over there for far too long... where is my eraser?

This has always been a big problem for the whole world. It’s a boat, sink it.

And this is the main source of all of the problems on earth.

It’s just a little tiny place, see below:

This is all it is, and it’s destroying everything else:

It’s a book, burn it.

=================================

4:57 pm:

Revisit this just for a minute. This is really too depressing to really do an the in  depth report and decode that is warranted here, so, I’ll give you a head start, something to look at as a place of basis for your own decode work.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00ReU6IGACo

First, some background is necessary:

              (when i do strikethrough that is example of Christian terror at Centurylink changing the text I wright to a “The” for “Theology” means “God”. There are thousands of places where “That” gets changed to “The” by the terror army operatives at Centurylink, Google, and Tumblr terror cells. It’s the same as if the Pope came to piss on the things I wright while trying to get some help)

To see what is happening here, you have to know the (that) when a citizen is awarded a disability status, that event is called “Award of Disability” and beneficiaries receive an “Award Letter” to inform them that Social Security Administration has finished doing their assessment on the application process that people have to go through, it takes more than two years to complete the process, and EVERYONE is denied in the first round, to discourage those who may be trying to deceive the application process. Once “Awarded”, the person becomes a Medicare Beneficiary, and begins to receive a nominal amount of income based on the amount of Social Security Monthly Premiums that person paid, automatically, as it was deducted from their paycheck throughout their lifetime. There is a maximum to the income amount, it’s not enough to survive on for most people. During the first fifteen years of Disability Award Status, those people are subject to the whims of the SSA, if they feel like a reassessment is necessary, the person is called in to a hearing, and must PROVE that they still should be considered as a Disabled Citizen. It turns out that other neighbors are often a threat to such people, and will go out of their way to make life more difficult for disabled people, and will call the SSA to tell them that their neighbor claims to be disabled, but does not look disabled. That means that the neighbor, who is not a doctor, works at McDonald’s as hostess, can make a problem for the disabled persons. You might say that should no problem if the disability is real, just prove it, again. What you don’t understand about that is the lack of control, the threat of having to pay back all of the income that was received before the neighbor called SSA to say stuff they know nothing about, the worry, extra expense, and most of all the time that is required to focus all of your life’s efforts on proving once again that an Award is to be continued. Every other thing a person may have going on, has to stop, all focus shifts on maintaining what is already in place. It’s like you are out at sea, and the information is such that someone is going to take your boat while you are ten miles out in the water. You have to stop everything to save the boat.

Then, for purpose of that video, after fifteen years passes, disability award citizens are no longer subject to any kind of interference from SSA for review no matter what any one says. So, the disabled person will never again be called in and forced to prove anything after fifteen years passes. That is what Jeff Kiesel is talking about in that video after he introduces the “Dotted Line” where a design patent contract is a protective measure. He is pointing out that it is not likely that anyone will be looking at, or interested in disabled people after fifteen years of awarded disability status, and that fact makes them good targets for the long haul where the victims income can easily be maintained after Jeff Kiesel signs the dotted line where the Guitoligist, Brad, does the dirty deed, Gain Cheap, on the Clean Channel.

Contract; Protection; Design.

Those are among the key statement jargon, where “design” is in reference to subjects suitable for surgical experimentation. If not experiment subjects, then such people can be held captive by someone who claims to be a son or daughter or other relation to the victim, and used for things like taking to a SAG friendly doctor so that Jeff Kiesel and Brad the Guitologist can get high on the captive patients pain medicine that is prescribed after a fall down the stairs, or a “gardening accident” in the yard, while those patients never get the medicine they are prescribed. Hear Jeff Kiesel say the phrase “One Leg” to get an idea of the horror of being held in captivity by drug addict SAG members.

Refer to the 6:34 mark in video to get to the heart of the coded message.

It’s coded. You decode it yourself, to keep your parents and grandparents free of captivity, and yourself, because you never know when that freight train is going to run you over until after the train goes by.

All of that is talked about openly on Google/YouTube.

You watch this video and then argue that Google is not in the snuff movie business, I double dog dare you to.

They even know and mark the video with a warning, so, I’ll warn you also: You cannot Un-See this video. Once you have seen it, it will stay with you forever, like a heroin addiction is to a SAG member.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZYDc_yR0qA&bpctr=1613268727

This video worked and was playable here on tumblr for a few hours, someone had to manually see that it’s here, then put the age restriction on the Google Snuff movie service. I recommend using someone else’s computer to view the video, as Google has turned it into a controlled environment where they can trace your address, so, use a police computer or one at the local church for viewing Google Snuff Movie Service Productions whenever possible. If you click the link, they will assume you read this account, if that happens, you will be marked as someone who knows the truth about Google and the Vatican, and they will hunt you down, take you captive, torture you so you will give them addresses of your family, especially small children, and your banking and asset access information. Then, they will put you into a commercial grade Chipper/Shredder, and grind you up into a liquid, add some water, and some seeds, and spray you onto the roadside as Erosion Abatement for profit because the Department of Transportation pays the contractors for the service of doing Erosion Abatement work on the roadsides, so that the road won‘t wash away in the rainy season. That, is the Christian Way. You can‘t see it through so many daisy’s is part of the problem with that. Orange poppy seeds are most popular in Or/egon for the Human Erosion Abatement Program. The mixture starts out as “V-8″ they call it, then when the seeds are added, at the time of the spraying, they call it “Red Hydroseed” and that is what the State is billed for by the contractors. no, I am not joking, does it sound like a joke?.

The reason that video exists and is presented on Google/YouTube, along with other similar ones, and movies of animal torture, is create a market for them. The existence of such movies available mainstream makes a “custom order” situation available through YouTube and it’s all approved and signed off by Sundar Pichai, and the Pope with use of a warning label, and the added benefit of that SAG Media “Color Announcer” who calls the action like a little league umpire calls an infield fly rule. Those who are really in the know, knows that the snuff movie presented, is about young boys and young girls because of the “Infield Fly Rule” that is presented in the approved Google snuff production there. “Infield Fly Rule” at a little league game is far more difficult to call as a umpire, than that snuff movie Color Announcer does with a train.

Boy Scouts of America

Eagle Scouts

Girl Scouts

Brownie’s

Little League Baseball

Pop-Warner Football

Gymnastics

Any and all extra curricular sports activities where SAG members can sign up to be a coach or a mentor, all inclusive, is what the train video is truly about, and is what Google is truly about.

Learn to read terror comm.

Turn off the fucking television, there is nothing real presented on it.

Stop the terror take over of USA. Preserve USA by restoring the Freedom that was lost to the Christian terror pirates.

Expose them, remove their fake Corona Masks.

Make arrests. Take them all to Easter Island and drop them off there. There will be way too many to put into the prisons.

===============================

6:46 pm:

Local Conditions:

About 40 degrees F. Absence of wind, high overcast sky.

I saw lights moving around in my front yard as dusk settled in at the close of that Boy Scouts entry above.

I took a walk to the mailbox.

I hesitated momentarily at the front door, opened and closed it a couple of times knowing that the terror bastards are triggered into action with listen device they put beneath my house at the entry.

I stepped out and a car moved south on Russell Road, as is usual at this time of day when I step outside, I am a little early with walk today because of those lights I saw in the front.

There were no lights on at the 376 Jackpine unit B as I stepped over to the driveway, there is a odor of death there, is faint, smells as if a dead creature or persons is in wooded area over there near the Offensive Monroe Surveillance Travel Trailer. I continued to the road, as I passed by the Monroe’s camara area pointed at my gate, there was the sound of jet ... I looked all over the sky to see the jet, but there was no sign of airplane, the sound went north, then west, then north again, then south, it was not a jet, it was a terror soldier’s nitrous gas tank ignited by my Bic Lighter and the sound of a launched terror soldier.

There was one item at my driveway entrance that was out of place, someone had moved a thing that I don‘t think could have moved on it’s own.

The people at 445 Jackpine have all of the house lights off tonight, is totally dark in contrast to last night when the place was lit up brightly. I could see that one of the vehicles there is a pick-up truck, looks medium grey color, but it’s too dark outside to know more, or it could be blue color.

There was nothing in the mailbox.

That Mazda, or other similar looking car was at 520 Jackpine again, parked in front, there was a dog in the yard, and someone was hiding behind a wood fence there along the road watching as I looked for my mail in the box.

I went over that way, there should have been some trash cans brought to the corner by now, in anticipation of Monday Trash Day, but there were no trashcans out on a Saturday, is unusual but not unheard of.

As I looked around at the corner, another terror soldier ignited at 520 and must have taken off very quickly, that man hiding by the fence came out and got into that Mazda, and drove away while I was still walking on the road.  He used a flashlight to light me up, so, I returned the light back to him, with a bigger, more powerful light.

I was concerned for a moment he might try to run me over, but I just stayed my course, and went to my driveway. I think the man in the Mazda thought I was the Jet I heard, his accomplice terror assassin, or maybe the other one that was standing right next to the Mazda and launched away quick. I think that one landed at 535 Jackpine at Freeberg terror cell, as I did hear a “Thud” sound from that direction.

It looked to me that the Mazda went to 376 Jackpine to Chartrand terror cell. I did not stay close enough to know for sure though.

There is a possibility that the car was brought to Chartrand by remote control, that is not uncommon, and all of the automatic transmission cars are fitted with remote control operation so that in event that the gas wielding terror soldiers are ignited and burst, the cars can be driven remotely to a controlled place to clean the guts, piss, and shit that gets spattered all on the interior of the cars when that happens. The Myers car from 560 has had dozens of Bursted terror soldiers explode in it over many years.

The lights at 376 Jackpine unit B came on at the front entry there as I walked back to my house.

Conclusion is that all four of the 445 Jackpine assassins are all dead now, and as I thought, were working with the people at 376, and, 376 is the Mazda that has been bringing dogs to the 520 address on occasion for staging attacks at my house with help from many terror cells from near and far.

I’ll take another walk later on to see if Mazda Man wants to dance with me...

Here kitty, kitty, kitty .... Ohhh Mazda Man... Let’s Dance!

==============

7:27 pm:

In event that nsa is watching, wondering, learning,  be advised of the VKA follow up work I did earlier today.

Can’t say more.

also: 928-249-3186 Kingman AZ Jeremy is of interest, sent him the 1 2 3 in return for A B C he sent last week about a “SpringBoard”. I could use some help with dealing with Jeremy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQtPzo-7AHs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQtPzo-7AHs

Possibly Jeremy Barns. A former renter of one of my houses many years ago, associated with Marc & Kayla Cobb who are members of the Tucker’s Barber Shop on 6th St. at Village Square Shopping Center, a “Hawaii 5-O“ terror cell controlled by “Greens of Olde Three Ply” Vatican Choir high command at Kauai Ranch. Jerremy Barns is also loosely affiliated with Joanne St. Cyr of Quebec Canada, and she is part of many things, Jazz Airline is one of them, a Air Canada regional commuter airline serving the Quebec/Montreal area.

Jeremy Barns, The Cobb terror cell, Todd & Alicia Wright and Micheal & Mercedes Wright terror cells are all Safari terror cell members, the Wright’s are actual Lion Handlers, and the Wrights are family of Richard Wright of Pink Floyd, who is one of the Green’s of Olde Three Ply Vatican Choir terror high command at Kauai Ranch.

I suppose all of tonight’s walk to the mailbox is just for personal documentation so I can remember things as they occurred, since no one is interested in preserving USA, or restoring lost Freedom enough to ask me a question about this account of terrorism on Tumblr.

===========================

9:49 pm:

I am tired, I don‘t want to do the decoding, but you can.

Here, this man runs down all of the necessary ingredients to say: “Last in Line”. a Ronnie James Dio song that is deep, but partly is about a entertainment event where terror soldiers go to the back of the line at the entrance, they have swords, a lot of protection from event staff at a concert, baseball, football, any kind of event where the venue has a “Grey Area”, a median place between the seating area and the entrance to the venue such as the concessions area at a baseball stadium is where you present your ticket to an usher before the event begins. The terror soldiers “Hold their swords horizontally, and move forward” through the crowd that is lined up in such a “Grey” area. The audience is killed before the show begins, three percent of the total show audience is taken, ID’s are processed, and replacement look-a-likes are arranged to go live at the victims homes, ultimately, to vote for SAG Shills on ballots such as are all of the people who are featured at the fake impeachment hearings. He says everything but “Horizontal” in coded language.

https://twitter.com/ABC/status/1360677045139869702

Here, Twitter covered that missing “Horizontal” twice with trending Letterman bullshit. Here, he “Roasts” Lindsey Lohan to a point of tears, she must have said or done something to gain attention to the ways of the Screen Actor Guild and was punished for saying whatever she had said, maybe some research can find what Lindsey revealed.

She is wearing “Upholstery”, basically is donned in a sofa. So, the Upholstery outfit could possibly be enough to piss David Letterman off, and Roast her.

Upholstery = “There must be some kind of hold up” in SAG terror language, is a Universally used term, many uses. She may be using it as a “USA is being hijacked” sort of holdup. So, they are sending her to Rehab, where she becomes the “Horizontal” member of the impeachment asshole above who is saying “Last in line” and it’s also a “Sloppy Seconds” statement.

https://twitter.com/davejorgenson/status/1360783863887376390

This at the end is a place where Dave threatens Cher (who does not look exactly the same as I recall she looks in that interview) and that video clip makes the horizontal part of the impeachment Last in Line happen twice, with a “Sloppy Seconds” at the end of the show.

It’s complicated, but not impossible to decode David Letterman, besides, he’s been dead for about five years, his head was put into the mailboxes on Jackpine after the show was over.

https://twitter.com/Squidwardsnose8/status/1360696495708778504

One of the more important things to keep in mind is that Twitter made all of that click together, with use of “Twitter Trends”. The content of the Tweets from Letterman are all contained in the vast archive of Twitters digital storage capacity, and Twitter is Google, so arranging all of that stored archive to produce desired results is what Google is all about, it’s what they do, they categorize information.

So, once you do the decode, then you need to see why the decode opertunity presented itself there for you to see. It was Twitter that arranged all of that so it would be there to use as a language, a graphic based language that says more than the individual pieces of video clip when combined, and with a host from the fake impeachment to guide the reader to the message.

The message is about a mass murder at a venue, where there are women who will be punished, captured and killed after plenty of raping is done by David Letterman and Jay Leno, who you know is waiting to share a garage with Dave nearby.

My read is a personal one, that includes much other communication on Google products, in the music industry email promotions, and in my neighborhood, where the message spells out a Rush at my house on Sunday morning by men with swords, and with horses, equestrian snuff at my house, with a draw and quarter featured at the end of the show.

I can hardly wait.

Draw & Quarter: It’s been about fifteen years since the last time I saw someone being drawn & quartered. Usual is done with two horses, where some ropes and shackles are attached to a victims arms and legs, and the other end is tied to the saddle of the horses. They prefer to use four horses, but one will work if horses are in short supply, just tie the other end of the rope to a tree and the result is almost the same. The horses slowly pull the victim into pieces.

The Draw & Quarter events are very unpleasant to see, even worse to be the star of the show.

Best guess is Adrian Witcherly will supply the horses. She is a bank manager at the Midland St. Branch of JP Morgan Chase Bank in Grants Pass, corner of 7th St. not far from OR State Police Field Office which next to the Seventh Day Adventist Church on 9th St.

=====================

11:00 pm:

This man is said to be the most powerful man on earth, surely he will save me, and prevent the event from happening, given that all of information necessary for prevention has been provided.

I am confidant that the US President will do what ever is necessary to prevent tragedy when he has opportunity in advance to do so.

Certainly he will realize the horrible threat to USA, to Freedom, and the threat to mankind that is presented to the world by Google, and will everything in his vast power to stop Google and Twitter from murdering more US citizens forever.

Joe Biden will do the right thing, he has been informed of the danger.

https://twitter.com/POTUS

=======================

11:33 pm:

I just now sent this cry for help to the White House.

2-13-2021 at about 11:27 pm Oregon time.

Take note that I specified to read the information in the links provided, and that 911 Emergency phone service will produce assassins at my house if I use that. I have much other documentation of failure at FBI.Tips.Gov too. It does not work, only assassins come in response to reports of terror mass murder in Oregon.

“Please send help. The state of Oregon has been hijacked by terror army from Canada, they use poison gasses to overpower victims, capture and torture them, then kill & replace them with imposters. There are many hundreds of thousands of them, and they have been murdering the population for more than twenty years. There are more than 800 pages of explanations at the link provided, eye-witness accounts of actual terror mass murder happening in Oregon and all over the west coast of USA. Please study the information carefully, as the terror is very sophisticated. 911 Emergency phone service is not available, it's controlled and operated by the terror army, they only send assassins when people call for help. Please send US Military. https://stone-man-warrior.tumblr.com https://stone-man-warrior.tumblr.com/archive”

They will call the local sheriff.

The local sheriff will send assassins.

That is what happened each time I sent a request for help to a US President.

Obama.

Trump.

Biden.

They have all been informed. none have stopped the terrorism, mass murders, kidnapping, or US takeover.

They all have sent assassins.

Joe Biden started sending assassins before he took office.

If I disappear, Joe Biden’s people did it.

============

11:46 pm:

Here is the BBC UK news response to my letter to Joe Biden at WhiteHouse.gov:

https://twitter.com/BBCNews/status/1360856008969621507

This is the part where Reuters UK (SIS MI6) makes the order to change the contact information I included with the note to Joe Biden at WhiteHouse.gov. This effectively will result in the death of investigative persons sent to the wrong places, because that Tweet says to make “Variant Modifications” and is directed at what I posted regarding the note asking for help.

I used the correct contact information on the form at WhiteHouse.gov. Part of the terrorism includes that the phones don‘t reach the people I need to reach, only approved terror cells can be reached with a telephone, and only terror cells call my phone number.

It’s should not be difficult to see where I live to contact me by reading the information at the links included, to this account. The problem with that is the investigative persons are not provided with the source information and have no idea that this account exists at all, they just go where the leadership tells them to go do investigative work, but the leadership is all SAG Shills, are all terror army operatives, and they send the investigative people into traps intentionally. Reuters UK is making sure that investigative persons go to Bullhead City Arizona, instead of Oregon where I am at, and where I can help them help me to help everyone, and restore the freedom that was lost so long ago.

https://twitter.com/ReutersUK/status/1360857587453988866

February 14, 2021: 10:05 am:

February 14, 2021: 10:38 pm:

https://twitter.com/POTUS/status/1360990937606983691

Biden effectively says: “Fuck you minion”

Then turns to his Canadian SDA terror soldiers and commands: “Grab your rakes and pitchforks, let’s get to work”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BniO017oeTM

The President of the United States of America, Joe Biden.

It’s St. Valentines Day today, I forgot, he’s busy ... today is a bad day for doing anti-terror work.

[nommy-thoughts]

Had a new vorish idea that started with remnants of a dream and grew from there.

It was a dream about a giant who was gullivered, and this group of soldiers/guards/whatever who were assigned to him were all given strict orders to never complain or protest, whatever he did. This resulted in the giant testing his boundaries to see if they'd ever tell him to cut it out. (short answer, no.) Eventually, there was a conversation where he learned that they'd been forbidden to protest his actions, and he asked if they were allowed to answer his questions (yes) and if they were allowed to give him feedback on his handling technique (maybe sort of, if they handled it just right so it clearly wasn't a complaint). But before that, while he was testing his boundaries, someone ended up in his mouth. It wasn't a super great experience on either end, since for the little there was the terror of 'He's going to eat me!' and for the big, well, all that cloth and stuff feels weird in your mouth, and it's not like people taste that good either (not that they exactly taste bad, it's more of a neutral). The squirming felt nice, though.

This is where the new idea started developing.

So there's a giant, and he's been gullivered, shipwrecked on the shore of an island inhabited entirely by tiny people. They take him captive, because loose giants with unknown intentions are terrifying. There's also legends of man-eating giants, so that's worrying too.

Eventually, they decide to test whether or not this particular giant is actually a maneater. They start by having a few people linger by the carts of food sent in for each of the giant's meals. Nothing happens to them. So then they test him with a more tempting treat: One tiny, on his plate, wearing nothing but a tasty sauce. The giant is confused, and the poor sacrifice is terrified, because there's absolutely no denying that he's being offered up as food. He doesn't expect to live.

The tiny does end up in the giant's mouth, after a few other tinies confirm that that's why he's on the giant's plate. However, the giant just licks the sauce off and puts him down again, unharmed.

The experiment is repeated a few times, and the tinies soon realize that the giant has no intention of actually eating anyone, but he does rather enjoy getting to put someone in his mouth, especially if they're covered in a sweet or savory sauce. It becomes this whole thing, where one tiny is selected to become the giant's dessert, and they get a special bath beforehand (possibly in sugar water for added deliciousness, or maybe just so they're clean), and go out on a special plate, coated with something delicious for the giant to eat off of them. It's soon considered a great honor. Something about being in the mouth of a giant who could easily bite you in half, and yet being released unharmed.

Some time later, the king of another country is visiting the capitol, along with his son (a young adult, not a child) and several attendants. The two countries had recently had a conflict, and the victor had been the country the giant lives in. Thus, it is not entirely clear whether the king and his retinue are guests or captives, due to their defeat and the complexity of politics. They also do not know of the desserts custom, since they're not from this country, but they are quite aware of the giant.

All are told that the prince is going to be honored during the feast that evening, and he is taken away to prepare for it. He's a bit surprised to be led to the kitchens, but he has a pleasant time chatting with the cooks as they work to prepare a simply prodigious amount of food. (The amount makes sense, of course: he had been informed that the giant would be dining with them.) Then he is told that it is time for him to get ready. In an adjacent room, he is given a bath in some very pleasant smelling water.

When he has bathed and dried, the prince is brought back to the kitchens and seated on a very fancy flat cart. He's starting to get suspicious now that something is up, for while neither country has a taboo against casual nudity, nor is it considered at all embarrassing to be seen without clothes, it is unusual to attend a feast without fancy garb, especially as a guest of honor, which he's been told he is, yet he's seen no sign that they have anything for him to change into. Still, their actions are clearly ceremonious, so whatever's going on is of some great import, and it's not like he can not go along with it. (They greatly outnumber him and he's unarmed, for one thing.)

When a cook approaches him with a thick sauce and begins to drizzle it over him in a complicated, fancy pattern, the prince gets even more confused. It's obvious that this is important and part of some fancy thing that's going on, but he doesn't understand what. He asks if this is part of the whole guest of honor thing and is told sincerely that yes, he's being prepped to receive one of the greatest honors in the kingdom. So, still confused, he just goes along with it.

Then it's time for the feast. The visiting king and his attendants have all had a chance to prepare, and they're in appropriately fancy outfits. The king is mildly concerned by the fact that he hasn't seen his son in some time, but he's been assured that it's fine. All the important people are seated up on a dias, with the king of that country in the middle in the fanciest chair and the visiting king next to him. The giant sits in a recess carved in the floor that makes it so the rest of the floor is about table height to him.

The food is brought out, and the feast begins. It's splendid, and all enjoy themselves, though the visiting king is disquieted by the fact that the prince is nowhere to be seen.

At last, the desserts are brought out. To the dias is brought plates of delicious cake drizzled with a sweet sauce. To the giant is brought… the visiting prince.

Both the king and the prince realize what is going on, and are horrified. The king realizes that the answer to the 'guests or prisoners' question is clearly prisoners, and he is about to be forced to watch the giant eat his son. The prince, meanwhile, is realizing that he's going to be given the 'honor' of getting eaten by a giant. There's clearly nothing he can do about it, however, and, though terrified, he decides to face death with dignity, and doesn't scream.

The giant doesn't realize that they think he's going to kill the prince, so he doesn't offer any assurances to the contrary. He just does as he usually does. He picks the prince up, smells him (the sauce he's covered with smells wonderful), and pops him into his mouth.

For the giant, the experience is fantastic. A tiny human squirming in his mouth, coated with a delicious sauce… what's not to love? For the prince, it's terrifying. He's sure that any moment now, those huge teeth are going to crush him, or he'll be swallowed alive. The king, watching from outside, is horrified. His son is in there, in that giant's mouth. Is he even still alive? The giant seems to be enjoying himself, which makes it even worse.

Finally, the giant opens his mouth and pulls out the tiny prince, soaked in saliva but unharmed. Before the prince can fully process that he's still alive, the giant puts him down in a bowl of soapy water, which had been prepared for this purpose. (Being covered in spit is gross. Time to wash off!) Soon, he's clean and dry once more, and, finally wearing clothes appropriate for a guest of honor, joins his father at the dias.

Turns out that having the prince served up as the giant's dessert was not so much a show of power, as the visiting king had thought, but an actual attempt at showing the prince honor, mixed with forgetting that the visitors didn't know. (Plus a little bit of intentional intimidation, because c'mon. King's got a giant, why not use him to intimidate his newly conquered neighbors?)

[freedomforclones]

Animara Chapter 1 The Calm Before

Shena awoke to the sound of thunder outside her tent.

A tear in the damp fabric above had allowed rain drops to fall onto her face. She shouldn't have minded the coldness of the moisture. After all her kind had evolved from the sea. And although they have long since passed the hindrance of only breathing water; for them water was their life and their strength and to despise it should have gone against her very instinct as an aquatic.

Regardless, she still could not help but feel annoyed by the continued disruptive rhythm of the droplets hitting her forehead and interrupting her two hours of sleep.

"Never thought I would be sick of water." she muttered to herself drearily before letting out a long exhausted yawn. Her hand moved across her face to wipe away the frigid water. She stared and played with the small droplets as they traveled down the fingers' of her gloves.

     It had been nearly four years since she had seen the clear oceans surrounding the capital. Five long years of fighting in lands she had never visited, against races she had never met prior to her deployment.

But coming from a military family, she was expected to fulfill her duty to herself and her family name once tyranny unveiled its ugly presence in the world yet again. Especially at the hands of her nations enemies.

She was honored to fight for the monarchy, and besides its not as if she had been raised to do anything but be a soldier anyhow.

So now here she was, in charge of this mess.

     Shena and her men had been ordered to defend a local mountain pass leading to the last jungle province of the monarchy from falling into enemy hands. They just had to hold out until reinforcements arrived. Or so they were told.

Her platoon's camp was located atop a massive elevated mound near a ditch of muddy stone ruins and vines deep within the jungle, that had been destroyed from battles long since passed. It was cold, damp, and it had not stopped raining in months. Everyone was miserable, on both sides.

The enemy had been ordered to take the pass, and had tried and failed nine times before. But they had been repelled desperately by Shena's platoon in each of the previous waves.

They would have just given up and gone home if they were any ordinary mercenaries, for money was the only incentive for their kind usually in this war.

But these were no ordinary mercenaries.

They were facing army ant's. The most destructive and aggressive of all ant races.

Their queen had rented her nomadic warriors cheaply to fight for their neighboring nation, the wealthy Savanna Sovereignty, in another desperate effort to lift her shattered empire out of poverty and return it to it's ancient glory.

'They would never surrender' as Shena sadly knew all to well.

When army ants have a mission tasked by their royal highness, they will complete it through sheer numbers and brutality or die trying. After all they viewed their own lives as worthless, and their mother could always make more to replace her fallen children.The bodies of their dead brothers and sisters had piled up near the pass, and the bugs had actually pushed them together to form a makeshift barrier for cover from Shena's  soldiers.

'The depths some will go to achieve victory.' Shena thought to herself disgusted. But then again maybe she should not have been one to judge another species actions and history given her own ancestry.

She shifted and turned over in her bed trying to get comfortable. Wrapping her thin tail behind her slender body as her head hung carelessly over the side, seeing a distorted reflection in a puddle on the muddy floor. Two black soulless eyes, a long pointed snout and countless  razor-sharp triangular teeth staring right back at her weary face. One might be forgiven for thinking a monster was starring back at them if this is what they saw as a reflection, but for her this was nothing out of the ordinary.

For Shena was a blue shark, and her ancestors had prowled the sea devouring any prey in their path. And although consuming sentient prey species had long been outlawed in most civilized nations, predators still invoke fear and terror as a result of their physical traits. After all that is the role evolution had specially designated for them.

"Excuse me Lieutenant?"

Shena, sensed someone approaching her quarters from outside in the harsh rain. She recognized the gentle voice to who it belonged to as well as the scent of its speaker. She stood upright in her bed and straightened her perfect posture to reply formally.

"Yes Corporal? What have you to report?" she spoke aloud while rubbing her dreary eyes awake.

The soldier poked his helmeted face through the tent soaking wet before replying.

"No sight of the enemy yet ma'm but our sentries will notify us if they spot anything approaching our position." The soldier then paused as if trying to form an elaborate and thoughtful statement.

"On the plus side at least our boys on watch duty tonight are getting an extra bath thanks to the rain, they stink." The soldier chuckled.

'Perhaps not.' Shena thought as she rolled her eyes with a slight lukewarm grin on her face.

"Thank you for the report, you may return to your post" said Shena in a quiet somber tone before she lowered her head back down in front of her.

The soldier saluted and prepared to exit the tent back out into the storm, but stopped abruptly. He slowly turned around to face his superior with a slight conflicted expression under his  helmet.

"Something troubling you ma'm?" the soldier said earnestly to his leader.

Shena hesitated in her response. Not wanting to show any signs of fragility unbecoming of an officer.

"Thank you for the concern corporal, but it's nothing". She lied.

The soldier tilted his head up and down slightly, as if observing his commanding officers whole demeanor, before crossing his arms sternly.

"If its nothing, then why is it your tail is curled up, your head tilted down and your remarkably polished toothy grin absent? Those would be pretty good examples nothing is something if I ever saw, with all due respect ma'm." the soldier replied heartily.

Shena smiled ever so slightly. Had her mood really been that obvious? She raised her head up to face his gentle and compassionate demeanor.

"Nothing gets past you does it?" She said in a warm sarcastic manner.

"No ma'm." the soldier said proudly. "If there's one thing I can notice in the blink of an eye its when morale is low among my comrades and superiors, and it is my self-obligated sworn duty to raise that morale until there isn't a spec of lowness left." He stood quiet for a second before speaking in a more sincere and softhearted tone.

"So, permission to ask what bothering you?"

Shena asked a question, while raising her brow in suspicion of his true incentive.

"Is the only reason you're  asking,  so you can get out of your shift in the rain for a few minutes?" she said aloud in a tone more similar to a mother than an officer.

The soldier hesitated for a few seconds and raised his shoulders slowly giving a nervous smile under his helmet.

"Perhaps....?" he said cautiously and truthfully. "I mean have you seen the rain out there? Its bloody intense this time of.... well always, now that I think of it."

Shena realized there was no use in arguing with him. He really was determined  to get out of both the rain and to talk to her about how she was doing. It was not often she had a good chance to talk to someone about something other than military matters anyway. Plus the company was very welcome even if she still could not decide after all this time knowing him, if she either despised his sense of humor or could not do without it.

"Permission granted Fereen." said Shena warmly. "At ease and take a seat."

"Gladly ma'm and thank you." he replied cheerfully. Fereen entered the old tent and sat down on a stool in the corner facing her bed still drenched while attempting to dry off his bright blue uniform. Shena briefly was amused by his desperate attempt of shaking the water from his boots.

"Even when we lived back home I was never surrounded by this much water!" Fereen exclaimed angrily in response to his heavily soaked misfortune.

There was a brief moment of calm serine stillness between the two of them following his humorous statement. Shena kept trying to keep herself from smiling at Fereen as he kept attempting to make his uniform slightly less doused. The rain and thunder outside the warm confines of the tent the only source of disturbance for an otherwise quiet and peaceful moment.

"Don't get me wrong though, normally I love the rain." He stated aloud cheerily before continuing.

"It hydrates the skin. Provides fresh drinking water without the added bonus of dirt and disease. And it has a nice peaceful sound to it... but too much of a good thing you know? But still I am fascinated by the sheer complexity of rain drops. I mean every single one, is unique!"

"That's snowflakes." Shena corrected with a deadpan tone.

He stopped shaking the water off his vest abruptly and looked up. "Really? I could have sworn it was the same with raindrops." Fereen looked visibly confused, as if discovering drastic life altering information for the first time.

"Eh, the more you know I guess. The point is I like rain most days just not today, enough said." he stated lightheartedly before continuing to dry himself off." Shena rolled her eyes yet again, a habit she had gotten quite used to when discussing with this particular soldier and his conversational topics.

She was taken aback slightly when Fereen took off his helmet.

Shena always had been surprised by how strikingly handsome the soldier looked without the cumbersome armor piece atop his head. His pectoral and dorsal fins had evolved from his ancestors into an ornate proud blue head frill on top his skull, and smaller ones protruding from the sides that resembled frilled ears. His reflective scaled turquoise skin glistening from the light and water.

But by far the most striking thing about him. Was his wings.

Most aquatic races didn't have the ability to fly without using mechanical assistance or a fighter plane. For the sea was most everyone's home in the ocean monarchy, as it had been for thousands of years. Fereen was a part of the few if not the only flying fish species in the world who could have the privilege to call both the sea, land, and sky his domain.

His wings were thin and almost transparent, giving the impression they were delicate. She knew this was not the case and that they were both deceivingly sleek and and strong like their owner. The edges of them had been torn slightly from past incursions but this was not nearly enough needed to distract from their dazzling glossy appearance, especially thanks to the array of colors. Blues, yellows, cyan, and even bright red on the serrated edges all contributed to the incredible display. Shena's own simple head crest and muted skin tones paled in comparison to his lavish features.

"So care to tell me, what's bothering you ma'm?" Fereen said before putting his helmet on the floor to dry. He leaned in closer to better hear her. Shena suddenly snapped back into reality. Shena stared back at him with such an anxious look on her face, that made even him look concerned for a moment.

"We're on our own. The reinforcements should have been here by now." Shena said aloud grievously and hesitantly.

She knew no help was coming.

The camps communication device had been damaged in an earlier attack and their local helmet headsets could not get through the intense storm interference, so there was no way to find out when or even if their promised backup would arrive at all.

They were low on ammo, ordnance, and men. Worst of above all else, all the commanders and captains in the platoon had died in the first three waves. She was the highest rank here  because there were no others left above her in the chain of command to lead what was left of the platoon. She had begun questioning if she had the ability...no competence, required for getting everyone left out of here alive.

 Of the initial two-hundred men in the platoon only seven were left, and most had died when she stepped up to take charge. With their current numbers, the final battle was going to be far too close.

" I don't know if...."

Shena paused and breathed a heavy sigh from her lungs. Desperately trying to be truthful and confident without shutting down in front of him. She pushed her words out of her mouth dejectedly.

"I don't know if we'll survive the final assault."

That was the most agonizing and difficult thing for her to ever have had to say. Not only to her loyal soldier, but also her friend. It was her responsibility to lead these surviving men and women to victory and having to say that to his face hurt more than anything any enemy could ever do to her.

Fereen leaned back in his chair and glanced to the side for a moment, rubbing his chin in a meditative mood, and pondering what to say to his leader. The thunder cracked outside in a loud thunderous echo.  Finally he spoke.

" I don't think we'll die."

There was a slight moment of silence from Fereen as he lowered his head and shoulders briefly. Seeing her friend who was normally so talkative and lighthearted become this subdued and quiet was especially unnerving to Shena, who considered him to be the glimmer of light in the darkness they now found themselves in. The flying fish raised his body back up in his seat and continued.

"We've made it this far with you and me in charge of the others ma'am, we must be doing something right. Otherwise we wouldn't be here talking about the many complexities of rain together right now." he gave a slight smile, but it now had a tint of sadness and concern.

"But we've lost so many men thanks to me." Shena said sadly with as much composure and stockiness as she could muster. Trying not to not show weakness through tears in front of her subordinate.

"Hey, that's not your fault! Fereen said in a distressed manner. Now his playful usual mood was absent entirely, for he knew when it did not belong in the moment. He put his hands on her shoulders. He knocked his stool back carelessly in the process of kneeling down quickly to be eye level with her. His pure alluring blue eyes staring directly into hers.

"You can't blame yourself for the others deaths, they knew the risks. There is no one else in this camp or even the whole world more qualified to lead us than you. You are the most reasonable, intelligent, and disciplined person I've ever met. Sure that makes you a huge stick in the mud sometimes but there is no other soldier who inspires and cares more for our lives instead of her own more deeply than you."

The sound of the rain colliding against the trees and the thundering echo's of the lightning outside, filled the void of the silence that followed for just a brief moment in time.

Shena smiled slowly. She put her left hand on top of his on her shoulder in relief and comfort. She knew her best friend was sincere and could see right through her tough exterior. And that he was right. She had been so conflicted and worried the past few days about their survival, she carelessly had allowed fear, insecurity, and self doubt to slip through the cracks of her mind and replace where courage, confidence, and prowess should always have been in its place as a leader. But no more

She knew who she was, and what she was going to do. They were getting out of here alive, not the raiders.

She slowly breathed a sigh of relief. Purging all her self-doubt and insecurities from her body.

"Thank you Fereen." She said rejuvenated as she slowly stood up atop her feet like the stoic leader she had been trained to be for so many years. "

"Any time ma'am." Fereen gave an understanding warm smile. "We all get all little scarred and doubt ourselves from time to time, even the leaders. I'd be more worried if they didn't to be honest."

Fereen then stood up as well, his full height almost as tall as his leader.

"And remember, I'm always up for a good kick in the tail to get you on your feet again if you ever need it." Fereen then softly nudged her shoulder with his fist as a sign of affection, which he used regularly for all his teammates. Shena shifted her head in slightly and smiled in gratitude for his words of comfort.

The bubbly flying fish then leaned in as if trying to hug and squeeze all the worry and sorrow out of his unusually tall and stoic friend.

"Whoa, Corporal", Shena said in an authoritative tone as she stepped back. A brow sternly raised.

Her soldier suddenly backed away quickly as well. Shifting his arms in acceptance wide apart and above his head, as if he was suspected of concealing contraband.

"Right forgot, not a hugger." Fereen smiled nervously as he rubbed one of his hands across the back of his head frill shyly. Looking down greatly embarrassed by his hasty warmhearted action toward his leader. His teal complexion becoming briefly red-faced.

"Correct." Shena said in a warm sarcastic manner. "You'd have an easier time hugging a porcupine than me."

Fereen Looked back up and let out a devilish smile." Ha! I knew you could crack a joke if you tried!"Fereen exclaimed victoriously, to which Shena replied in the usual appropriate manner.

Another eye roll.

Fereen smiled and nodded up to his lieutenant. He then turned to correct the stool he knocked over upright in its proper position before grabbed his helmet of the floor, all dry. He finally turned back around to face his commanding officer respectfully.

"Will that be all ma'am?"

The flying fish stood at attention and saluted. His posture in perfect form and composition , his triangular wings lowered and folded in accordance with military standards. Any officer would have expected such formality without question. For Shena however..., she was just glad to have had the privilege and joy of having him in her life. And by her side.

She gave a delayed response not wanting the moment to end. But she knew it could not last forever.

"Yes Corporal" She responded in a secure and proud voice. Now back to her normal orderly self.

"That will be all."

Shena saluted back in a similar fashion to him. One that her father had personally instructed in her how to do properly since she was a young child. But it was not just out of professional conduct or discipline for her anymore.

She genuinely respected and cared for Fereen and her soldiers. And this was her way of showing it. She was not just fighting for the monarchy anymore. Shena was fighting so she and all these surviving men and women could escape alive from this nightmare they all had been sworn to endure.

And she would do whatever it took to make that happen. Even die for them if need be.

"Lieutenant!" a cold unfeeling voice erupted as one of the remaining two automaton sentries entered her tent swiftly. Its hard, rusted metal shoulder abruptly pushed into Fereen's, unintentionally knocking him aside slightly.

"They are coming, the final wave of insects!" The perfect, unthinking indigo soldier quickly turned and exited frantically back to its assigned post outside in the rain.

Shena and Fereen glanced at each other slowly. Their relaxed smiles transforming into controlled composure while the sound of thunder echoed through the sky outside ominously.

It was time.

Without thinking Shena stood up and grabbed her bolt action harpoon rifle, sitting upright next to the bed. Already loaded. No need to change into her navy blue and gold officer's uniform, for she had already been sleeping in it.

Fereen donned his ornate helmet, the visor glowing brightly the color of the sky as soon as it hid his face entirely. His friendly face vanishing completely yet again.

The time for small talk between comrades had passed. Now they had to exit the tent yet again to become the soldiers they had been almost every waking moment for the last five years.

Fereen drew his pistol. Flexing his wings anxiously as he stared outside into the rain.

"Those bugs just don't know when to quit. If they did we already would have had them crawling on the run back to that ugly mother of theirs." He paused for a moment while looking outside into the storm.

"And I just finished drying off!" he said angrily.

Shena smiled for the last time as the peaceful moment was coming to end. It was nice to see that her friend was still inside the daunting appearance of the winged warrior in front.

The corporal exited the safe and warm small confines directly outside, before looking back to grab the flap of Shena's tent for her.

Her loyal soldier stood in place in the harsh rain unfazed. Waiting intently until his leader was properly prepared before her departure to lead them all yet again.

As Shena was about to step outside into the cascading strong rain, ready to fight...She stopped.

Shena took a deep breath, excluding all distractions and mental hindrance from her mind, body and soul for the coming battle. Her heart was racing.

The young Lieutenant opened her eyes sharply to see the winged warrior standing in front. Nodding at her in respect wholeheartedly. To which there was no other appropriate response for her to do, but to nod back.

"For the monarchy." Said the corporal with as much warmth and compassion as he could afford to without distracting the concentration of his superior.

She nodded, in an orderly manner and replied to her friend one last time.

"For the Monarchy."

And together, stepped out into the rising storm.

[autumn-elwood]

A Study in Invigorating Description

This is a prompt list. Please vote in the ask box. Please. I've worked on this for several days. Please. Just write a number between 1 and 20. Please.

Also available on Blogger

Enjoy! (I'm exhausted. Send coffee.)

1.  When I was younger I always thought I was pretty hot shit. I could write stories and draw pictures that could move even my toughest classmates to tears. As an adult, I came to the stunning realization that I was not, in fact, the hot shit I thought I was. My first manuscript did not even make it past the publishers and my other attempts fared no better. It was not, however, because I lacked talent. One man told me my writing was great but I lacked references. Why should I risk publishing your work if I don’t know if it will tank or not, he told me. It’s not worth the risk.

Since then I have set my book career aside to earn myself some small time fame. I am now a journalist for a local paper.

“Clyde? What are you thinking about? The ask-column is due by 17:00! Hurry your ass up!”

“Almost done, Grace. I just need to complete some small corrections,” I hollered back. Grace did not reply.

One day I’m going to make it big with a novel that’s going to knock everyone’s socks off. Those damn publishers are going to regret the day they turned down the brilliant writing of Clyde Palmer.

“Wipe that damn smirk off your face Palmer and get to editing!”

“Yes, Grace.”

I hate that woman. 2. Patrick Delaney will freely admit he is slightly terrified of his daughter. She is a skinny little thing of thirteen with no weight training to speak of, that can lift things that would give him trouble. Don’t get him wrong. He still loves his little princess but seeing her lift two twenty-four packs of water bottles at the same time would make any single father break a sweat. He was finally getting used to her unnatural strength when she dent a semi’s hood that had been careening toward a small boy and herself.

When that happened, Patrick did what every reasonable person would do in that situation; he fainted.

3. Humans, in my experience, are odd and violent creatures. Many of them strive for individualism while attacking anyone and anything they perceive as different from themselves. Quite the paradox.

My name is Venxiaqle and I am not from this planet. I am an explorer from a small planet on the far ends of the Milky Way galaxy. After landing on Earth, or Terra Prime as it is called on my homeworld, I was quite thankful to have been born with my shape-shifting ability, that I inherited from my father. Without it, I fear my new earthling companion, William, would have attacked me worse. He was quite terrified when I crashed my ship on a strip of his grandparents’ grape orchard.

Despite our rocky start, I am grateful to have found a native to help me detail the wildlife of ‘Earth’ and assist me in blending in with the planet's dominating species, the human. I just wish he would call me by my actual name, instead of the diminutive, Vinney.

4. I breathed heavily as I scaled the desolated parking complex, dragging my companion up. Mandy was frightened and apologetic, muttering unintelligently about how it was all her fault. I wanted to smack her but I was afraid her already weakened jaw wouldn’t be able to take the force. Most of the flesh in that area had already decomposed and the only thing keeping it attached was some discolored skin and her muscles.

The zombies after us were my fault. The hunters were Mandy’s. Both of us were simultaneously at fault and victims of our circumstances. Mandy had been turned and had kept her mind while I was in love with her.

“Amy, please just leave me behind,” she pleaded. “You need to escape.”

“Not without you, honey,” I told her. “Never without you. We said death ‘till us part and you’re still kicking even if you aren’t breathing, sweetie.”

“You’re an idiot, Amy,” she muttered as she held me tighter, rubbing her oily head into the crook of my neck as I hoisted us above the ledge of one of the parking levels.

“That’s why you love me,” I laughed as I tossed a homemade explosive at our pursuers, zombie and human alike. At one time I would have felt bad for all of the people I just massacred but now I felt only relief. Fire slowed down the zombies and charred humans couldn’t shoot us or be forced to join the ranks of our undead pals.

I heard the cock of a shotgun.

“Fuck.”

5. My neighbor, Rena, scares me. I often see her storming down the corridors of our apartment complex with murder written on her face. The few times I have heard her speak, she was yelling and cursing like the world had personally insulted her. I do not know if I am more scared of her or for her. Sometimes I just want to ask her what’s wrong. How’s your blood pressure? Can I do anything to help you?

“What the fuck do you want, bitch?”

“Nothing Rena!” I whimpered as she passed me that afternoon of September 12th.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously in my direction. Oh my god. What did I do? Is she going to kill me? Why? Oh, I’m so dead. God, help me.

“How the fuck do you know my name, round face?”

Round face? I hugged my chubby body subconsciously. Why couldn’t she have continued to call me bitch like she does like every other chick on this row? What did I say to warrant a nickname?

“I heard the landlord yelling at you when you moved in,” I whispered.

Rena looked pissed.

“Stupid son of a bitch. Can’t keep his mouth shut,” she muttered mutinously. “Anyways, what’s your name, round face?”

“Um, Lucy…”

Rena gave me a stiff nod before she stomped off to her flat. I clutched my heart and sank to the floor. Well, that was over, thank the lord.

6. Sometimes the things we love the most hurt us the most. That was very true for me. I stared in horror as a large shadow towered over me like a running spider. Like hail from the sky, the books rained down on me, leaving no inch unbruised. I whimpered and pushed the heavy novels off me only to be assaulted by four more books.

“Oh shit,” an unfamiliar male voice shouted. “Are you alright?”

“Is that you, God?” I muttered unironically.

“Not the god you’re talking about.”

I threw the tomes off me.

“What?!”

“Kidding,” a man with caramel skin snickered. HIs eyes were black like the void. He seemed like the kind of guy that if he were a fictional character people way younger than him would be screaming, “My son, I will protect you!”

“Hug me.”

“What?”

I should not have said that.

7. When I became a villain I did not sign up to be a parent. Usually, when you think villain, you think terrorizing the public and world domination, which is what I signed up for, not trying to get some twelve-year-old some help.

My nemesis, Star Child, had been kicking my proverbial ass for months when I realized he was in fact twelve.You would think I would be offended that my arch enemy was a pre-teen but I was in reality, horrified. I had held a twelve-year-old boy above an acid tank. I had thrown him into several buildings. I had broken his arm. He wasn’t even in high school and he was fighting supervillains. Oh my god.

Next time we fought, I handcuffed him to a chair and gave him some fruit slices.

“Why are you not in school?” I began. “Your grades are important, Star Child. Even if you choose to pursue hero work after you complete your education, you still need to be able to get a job. Also, you are twelve. You should not be going up against supervillains at your age. Small crime maybe but supervillains… No.”

The boy blinked rapidly. Several times he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Finally, he settled on a very intelligent, “What?”

I scowled at him and put my hands on my hips.

“KId, do not throw away your life for a payless job. Being a hero is noble and very rewarding but it doesn’t pay the bills. Besides, what would your parents say f they knew you were fighting crime instead of doing your homework.

Dead? Fuck. Who’s watching this kid if he gets away with this? I need to adopt this kid stat. Wait, no. I can’t. I’m a villain He’s my nemesis. I really shouldn’t.

Fuck it. I’m going to adopt this kid.

8. Two days ago, Daddy finished building me so I look like a normal little boy. Yesterday, Daddy was arrested for villain activity. Today, Mommy’s still scared of me. She doesn’t know what to do with me. My energy levels are low and my water tank is near empty as a result of me sobbing as I watched Daddy be arrested on television. Daddy hooked me up to the internet and the internet says villains are evil. I hate Daddy. He made Mommy sad and scared.

I don’t think he told Mommy I have to eat. Another reason I hate Daddy now is because he left Mommy with the burden of taking care of me all by herself.

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” I whispered as we watch Daddy’s arrest for the 767th time. She hadn’t eaten since it happened. I hope taking care of me will remind her even though I scare her. I wish I knew why Mommy was scared of me. Maybe then, I could fix it.

“What?” she stuttered out in alarm. She flinched seeing how close I was.

“I’m hungry, Mommy. We haven’t eaten since yesterday and we haven’t slept. I’m tired.”

She hugged herself and looked away from me. Her long glossy black locks were a mess and her dark circles were unhealthy pronounced. She looked pale and broken like a porcelain doll that had slipped off its display shelf. I wanted to hug her but I knew any physical action of comfort I could offer would only make things worse. My body was so cold.

“Don’t call me that,” she sobbed, voice cracking.

“Mommy–”

“Chester, I’m not your mom. Evan― your dad―started making you when we found out I was infertile,” she wiped a few stray tears away, straightening herself like a soldier preparing for battle. “Frankly, I never approved and based off what happened yesterday, he… he started working with villains to get the parts to make you

“I found a letter in his journal. They only agreed to fund him if they could use you later. I… I don’t know what to do. I just know I can’t handle being your mother. I just can’t, knowing what they’re going to use you for. I can’t let myself get attached to you.”

I felt tears build in my eyes. “ I don’t want to be a villain. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to be a hero. I want to stop people like Daddy from hurting other people!”

She looked at me like a shattering wine glass and lunged forward, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Chester. I’m sorry,” she wailed.

The meaning of her apology evaded me but those words and her arms made me feel something I had yet to feel in my two days of existence; safe. My resolve to become a hero cemented itself into my programming. I would become the strongest, kindest hero and no one, not Daddy and not anyone else would ever hurt Mommy, or anyone else, like this again. I would not allow it.

9. It’s 1:00 am and I should be asleep but I’m not. What my father said early this evening echoes in my head.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he said as he pulled me into his unfamiliar arms.

I do not understand why he apologized. This is hardly the first time he has said I have ruined his life. This is just the first time he has said it so blatantly. He has never said sorry before so I am confused on why he is now. Maybe Mom told him he had to. I wouldn’t be surprised.

I’m tired of pondering this but it won’t leave me alone. Hearing him say that should have made me sad or mad or something but I hardly blinked. I just went to my room and did my homework.

“What are you doing up?” I heard my brother ask from my door.

“I could ask you the same question, Peter.”

He walked over to my bed and sat down near my feet.

“He should know better than to say things like that to us, to you, Eliza. He’s an adult.”

“He’s a child who never grew up. He was just throwing a tantrum because my opinion didn’t fall in line with his.

He clenched his fists in his lap and growled.

“That doesn’t make it any better, that doesn’t excuse him.”

I breathed out a laugh.

“I know but there’s nothing we can do. We just have to deal with it.”

Peter threw his hands in the air, his face turning red with anger.

“We shouldn’t have to deal with it,” he whisper-shouted.

“I know,” I sighed, my heavy eyes sliding shut as slipped into oblivion.

10. I’m sitting on the cool itchy grass of summer, staring at the inky night sky. Around me, couples and families sit on picnic blankets, on the edge of their seats staring up at the glittering heavens in anticipation. I am alone.

Boom! The first firework explodes in a cascade of reds, blues, and golds.

Many times when people think of fireworks, they think of smiling children running around with sparklers, a kiss between lovers under the vivacious colors, hope. I do not think of these things. I think of how a firework can parallel loneliness. The unexploded firework being launched into the sky is like me when I say everything’s wonderful and amazing, and I don’t need anyone to be happy.

The explosion is when it all comes crashing down. So many tumultuous feelings breaking free of their bottle. The furious roar of red unrighteous anger covering up the fear. The endless chasms of blue sorrow and hopelessness. The festering and blistering like greens of envy. I hate fireworks but here I am watching them again, my emotions on full display to my empty eyes.

It is truly pathetic.

11. Veronica had always been a risk taker so when her friend Barry dared her to spend the night in the abandoned house on 6th street, she hadn’t said no. She told Barry that his dare was a bit cliche but she hadn’t said no.

The abandoned building on 6th was practically a public danger. It had been sealed off in the sixties but was much older than that. The right corner of the place’s roof was caved in and the structural integrity of the place was poor. The place was infested with rats and bugs of all sorts. There was illegible graffiti throughout the rotten walls and few had dared step foot in it since the murder five years ago. Regrettably, the murder had revived the urban legend that the place was haunted.

Veronica thought those rumours were bullshit but Barry believed in them wholeheartedly. Probably the reason he chose this dare, she thought with an internal scoff.

She carefully laid her stuff in the middle of the floor of what she thought may have once been a dining room. She slowly lowered herself onto the floor, wincing at every creak of the ratty wooden floor. So far she hadn’t found any evidence of ghosts but she hadn’t really ventured past the first floor. To be honest, she was more scared of finding a living person in the house than an incorporable being of post-human consciousness. She crossed her fingers and went to bed.

Her blood was pumping with excitement which made nodding off very difficult. Urban exploration was illegal after all. She felt herself drifting off when a young voice cut through her drowsiness.

“What are you doing here?”

Her eyes snapped open. Veronica barely held back a scream. Above her was a floating young girl, her long hair seemingly unaffected by gravity with her eyeballs gouged out leaving bloody black holes in their place.

Veronica struggled backward, incoherent noises exiting her mouth in panic. The specter followed after her and stopped as Veronica made impact with a wall.

“Hi! I’m Erie,” she beamed, obliviously unaware of Veronica’s terror. She wondered if the ghost could see. “What’s your name?”

“Veronica,” she managed to squeak out before fainting.

12. Kain couldn’t help but feel bored for some odd reason. He honestly shouldn’t be feeling bored with the number of adventures Cyrus and himself had been on together since they took up the pseudonyms, Castor and Pollux, and joining the cavern of Hermes.

They had made tons of new friends in Eris, Apollo, Thanatos, and Persephone. They had raided a slave auction and dug up objects and tomes from the buried pre-rest buildings in the dunes of the Estival Desert. They had even met up with Lady Alma to make sure she was getting on alright, for crying out loud. Kain was safe from Lord Zafar. Cyrus was safe from Lord Zafar. They got to transcribe books and sell them in Apple-polish market.

Why was he so bored?!

“Um… Are there any titles you would recommend?” a familiar voice queried.

He looked up to see a man with short blond hair and a scruffy beard. He looked familiar too. Had he met this man before?

“Oliver Twist’s pretty―,” he began before cutting himself off, the man’s identity becoming shockingly clear.

“You bastard,” Kain growled, eyes filled with rage.

The bastard blinked in surprise, unsure of how to respond to Kain’s sudden insult.

“Pollux,” he heard Cyrus say with a sharp a sharp warning before making apologies to the customer.

Kain clenched his fists, his anger rising even higher after realizing Cyrus didn’t recognize the bastard in front of them. And even worse, the no good lying son of a bitch didn’t recognize them either. Kain threw a hand in front of his brother in a clear sign for the younger boy to be quiet. Cyrus’ voice faded off and he stared at his brother nervously, wondering what Kain was going to say.

“How dare you show your face here in front of me after what you did!” Kain sneered.

The man looked flustered as he glanced around the market at the stares they were attracting. “Sir, I believe you have the wrong―”

Kain slammed his hands on the front of the stall, cutting the man off.

“How dare you show your face after you abandoned your wife and children to the mercy of Lord Zafar!” he screamed, a mixture of hysteria and anger coloring his words

Cyrus gasped as the meaning of those words sunk in.

“Kain,” the man proclaimed in shock.

Kain slugged him straight in the nose.

13. I was fairly young when I first asked my mom why she chose the Merriam for my name. She gave me a smile before pulling a tattered paperback dictionary from the living room shelf.

“I’ve always admired the Señores Merriam, mi hijo. Not for any of their actions or beliefs. To be honest, I've never much looked into their history but I admire them for creating a book full of meanings. One of the first books your abuela bought for me when I began my schooling here, was this dictionary,” she remarked wistfully. “We didn't have much money then so when she gave it to me, I was so excited.”

Mom gave a little laugh.

“It was my first book in the start of a grand collection but never mind all that, Merriam. You were asking about your name. I gave you the name Merriam because I wanted you to have an understanding of both your heart and mind.”

It was such a sweet story that at the time I was so proud of my name. I later grew to hold my name in my heart with an odd amount of awe and resentment. Being called “Dictionary Boy” does not always inspire positive feelings.

“Yo, Mary, whatcha thinkin’?”

I looked over to my friend, Bryce, in disdain. Besides the association with dictionaries, Merriam has more often been a girls’ name than a boys’, men only finding Merriam in their names as a surname.

“I told you never to call me that,” I hissed.

Bryce cackled obnoxiously. “Oops. I forgot, man.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” he affirmed with a smirk.

Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he put the unlit stick in his mouth and proceeded to take out a rubix cube without lighting the thing.

“If you’re going to put them in your mouth at least light them. Who are you? Augustus Waters?”

“Don’t make references to books you've never read, Mary,” Bryce muttered distractedly. “I’m trying to quit.”

“You’re trying to quit now, months after I’ve stopped lecturing you about the health risks posed by cigarettes,” I questioned skeptically.

“Yep. Better late than never.”

This came across as bizarre to me. Bryce was stubborn so I didn’t get why he had chosen to change his habits now. After a minute of me staring at him and him trying and failing to solve the rubix cube, he said something that made me almost topple down the stairs.

“Adrie’s pregnant.”

“Fuck.”

He looked up at me and shrugged.

“It’s not that bad. We’re in college so they can transfer to online courses before it gets to the point where they shouldn’t be straining themselves anymore.”

“You’re right, I suppose,” I agreed, still reeling.

Adrie was a pretty responsible person so it was kind of a shock that Bryce had managed to get them pregnant but then again, condoms did break.

“Would you like to be the godfather?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No. Adrie likes you.”

Adrie likes everyone.”

Bryce put the rubix cube down and extracted the cancer stick from his mouth.

“Surprisingly, no. Adrie smiles and talks to everyone but the two of us are their only friends. Well, I’m their boyfriend but you get the point.”

“Very touching but I think you could find a much better choice for a godfather.”

Bryce snorted. “We’ll see.”

Yeah, no.

14. The room was warm and smelt of singed turkey. I blinked blearily at my surroundings. Where was I? My apartment? No, much too clean. A friend’s? No, none of my friends could afford a turkey. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I also noted that much of the furniture was too expensive for my apartment or anyone else I know.

How did I get here? I looked around for a door before landing my eyes on the thing in question.

It was painted white with a gold peephole. The deadbolt was broken and the knobs were unlocked. I felt a deep seeded feeling of dread in my gut.

Did I break in here, I asked myself.

Most people don’t have to ask themselves these kinds of questions but I take some anxiety medication that causes some disinhibition and memory loss, and I am prone to making stupid decisions regardless of my state of awareness. What day was it?

The aroma of the turkey caused the date to click with me.

A scream of shocked terror had me holding my ears in pain.

“Who are you?” a feminine voice cried. “Why are you in my house?”

Then, like a dumbass, my chosen reply was a slurred:

“Happy Thanksgiving!”

15. The lazy sunlight crept into my apartment window, sharply hitting my eyes. I shift against my soft couch cushions, a warm weight melting into my side.

“Lee, you awake?”

He mumbled unintelligently but didn’t stir. I held him tighter in my arms. I never wanted this moment to end but like all beautiful moments that block out the horribleness of reality, it has to end.

My name is Jay, codename, Vitality and I am a hero. My boyfriend, Lee, is a villain named Lord Decay. We live in a society of people with metahuman abilities where few elect to utilize those abilities. The few that do mainly use their powers to help maintain our society or tear it down.

Lee wants to tear it down and rebuild it from scratch. He wants to change the world and he grew to believe the only way to inspire that change was to make people listen. The people don’t like being told to change. The people have too much pride in the society we created following the rise of powers.

People without powers are left isolated and degraded. People with stereotypically villainous powers are abused and treated like shit while those gifted with heroic-like powers are praised and treated like gods.

Our society needs to change but the way Lee has chosen to go about bringing that change is wrong.

One time I asked him why he didn’t go to school to become a hero, to prove society wrong. To prove people with villainous powers can be heroes too. That powers don’t make the person, the person makes the powers.

“No place would accept me,” he said. “When my powers activated… I… I was playing with my cars and they began to turn to dust… Everything my hands touched turned to dust. I started screaming and my mom came in with a worried expression

“She fell to her knees and told me to calm down but I couldn't…”

Tears pooled in his eyes and his voice began to choke out every word.

“She pulled me into a hug and then she started screaming and pushed me away… On her back where my hands had been. God, there was so much blood, Jay and I couldn’t call for help. The phone fell apart in my hands. She was already dead by the time my dad got home,

“He sent me away. He couldn’t handle knowing his own five-year-old son had killed his wife.”

Lee stared down at his hands.

“I still can’t control my powers. At any time I could accidentally destroy this bus. I could hurt you… I could hurt you. Who would want someone like me to be a hero?”

“I would,” I whispered.

His smile looked like fractured glass.

“It might be too late for me to be a hero now.

16.Sometimes the drifting apart of a friendship is gradual. Sometimes it’s quick. For Jane and Mels’ friendship, Jane felt like she was pulling a loose thread tighter only to feel tears of frustration prickle at the corners of her eyes as she saw the thread loosen again, occasionally losing more stitches. She was stuck looking on because somewhere along the way she had lost the needle in the sands of Kronos’ beach.

“Hey, Jane,” Mels said as she sat down. “How are you?”

“Great. How was your morning?" Jane replied, trying to focus on the conversation.

It was so hard to focus these days. Mels’ reply was negative but Jane couldn’t register the contents and everything sounded thick like her head was underwater. Jane murmured vaguely while Mels turned on her phone, scrolling through her messages.

The silence was stifling for Jane but she didn’t know what to say. Should she ask after her sister? Who her latest crush is on? A school thing?

“Finals are coming soon,” she settled on. “Which are you dreading?”

Mels glanced up from her phone, distaste clear on her face.

“Jay, don’t get me started on finals. You know I’m not prepared for any of them.”

Personally, Jane felt Melane was exaggerating but she did not interrupt her friend’s tirade.

“I guess chemistry,” Mels concluded after several minutes of listing why she thought each final was going to be difficult. Jane nodded, not sure what to say. The bell rang for class. Jane did not see Melane again until the next morning.

17. Joseph had been Chase’s roommate since their freshman year of college. After three years he couldn’t really call them friends but they were closer than mere acquaintances. Chase was not the kind of guy that was easy to get to know. He was a stubborn, rude, asshole but Joseph liked him okay. He had a low tolerance for bullshit and messing around which was basically all Joseph liked to do. They balanced each other out that way.

Joseph liked to think the reason Chase had such a low tolerance for bullshit was that he liked to shove his own behind a counter and never speak about it. That was probably kind of unhealthy but he was no therapist so he just shrugged his shoulders like “what can you do”. Today was one of those days where Joseph actually got to see some of basket case’s bullshit and found himself stumped.

“I’m not going to be here tonight. I’m going to help my dad check my mom out of the hospital.”

Joseph spit out his drink and looked up from his show.

“Your mom was in the hospital! Since when?”

Chase grimaced, probably more at the idea of touching the sticky soda that had been sprayed from Joseph’s mouth than the question.

“Six months ago.”

Joseph felt sick. Did Chase say something about this while he wasn’t paying attention?

“What happened? Coma? Cancer?”

Chase got a peculiar expression on his face like he was debating on whether to answer the question or smack his roommate for being insensitive.

“She had a mental breakdown.”

“Holy fuck.”

18. Matt heard crying from through the baby monitor. It’s too early for this, he thought in despair as the fog of sleep seeped out of him.

“Janielle, could you―” he mumbled, frowning as his arm hit the cold sheets beside him.

Had she already started to make her way to the twins’ room? He sat up slowly, blanket slipping off his shoulders causing him to shiver in the frigid morning air. He scratched his fluffy brown hair scanning the room. The crying persisted. Maybe both the twins were up. He should go―

There was a note on Janielle’s pillow. She probably had to go to work early, he thought, grabbing the note, making his way down to the nursery. Halfway down the hall, he froze.

Matt,

I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. I wasn’t even sure I could handle being a mom of one but of twins, I just can’t. And Matt, you’re sweet but before we found out I was pregnant, I was going to break up with you. You’re a great guy but you’re just not the great guy for me. I’ll send money for Bernice and Aaron when I can. I love them and you dearly but I am afraid I can’t be there for you three.

Love,

Janielle

Matt felt numb. He robotically went up to one of the cribs and picked up Bernice. Aaron, miraculously, had not woken up.

“What’s wrong, Burn-Burn,” he whispered feeling like he was choking on every word. “I-is it Mommy? Did you see her leave?”

Bernice continued to wail. Matt sank to the floor, cradling his daughter close.

“I’m sorry. Daddy’s so sorry Burn-Burn,” he croaked.

He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what he was going to do.

He was alone.

19. I sat down at a table, a trusty trash can by my side. My sharp blades glittered smartly as I swiftly cut ovals and triangles into a dead tree sheet in the shape of a circle folded multiple times like a two-dimensional cone. I unfolded it. Snowflake decoration twenty-five complete and ready for hanging.

“Hey, Clarence. Nice snowflakes.”

I paused in my work and looked awkwardly up at who had spoken.

“Um… Why thank you, Karen. Well, um… how are you doing?” I floundered.

“Great,” she beamed. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Nothing really,” I muttered looking at her shoulder.

I could literally hear her smile grow.

“Fantastic.  I'm having a holiday Christmas party for everyone at work at my house on Christmas Eve. Would you like to come?”

I didn't want to go.

“Yes.”

She clapped excitedly.

“Sweet. Do you need my address?”

“No. I still have it on my phone. How many people are coming so far?”

Karen looked downcast.

“Well, only you and I so far,” she perked up. “But I'm sure lots of others are going to come too.”

Well, there goes my chance of skipping out.

“See you at the party, Karen.”

“See you there, Clarence,” she winked at me.

20. I live with Father and Mother in my dreams, although they are not my mother and father, those are simply their names. They are married but they are not in love.

Father once told me that Aunt and Uncle decided that he and Mother should be joined together in holy matrimony forever. However, Father when narrating these events to me always pronounces the forever as foe-ever. I can understand why Father might view Mother as an enemy. They are completely opposite forces of nature, after all.

Mother is small, poised, and incredibly neat. She wears her white hair straight down, not a single hair out of place. She dresses in a wedding gown so clean and refined, lacking the creases made by clothes on a body that it is as if she is not wearing the dress at all. She is often quiet and seldom speaks. When she does her voice is clipped, cold, and cruel like the breaking off a glass.

Father has messy black hair and wears a rumpled burgundy suit. He is loud and very kind.

Mother rules the house. She keeps the house so spotless it is devoid of life. It is wretched but I enjoy living with them when I sleep.

“Ernest,” Mother calls. “When are you going to come find us? Father and I grow tired of waiting for you.”

Father laughed. “The only thing we can agree on. When are you coming, Nestling?”

I blinked. “I don't know where the house is.”

“Do not,” Mother corrects flatly as if she cannot even summon annoyance to respond to my stupidity.

Father rolls his eyes at her and grabs my hand.

“Well then, sweet Nestling, I'll simply have to fetch you. Where do you find yourself now?”

Smiling widely, I whisper, “Broomstock’s orphanage in Miller’s Hollow.”

Father frowns and hums vaguely.

“That's so far Nestling, amusement peppering his voice. “But Mother and I will make the journey to retrieve you.”

Mother leaned forward and muttered, “Be grateful, boy. If it were up to me, we'd leave you there and simply wait for your lazy bum to make its way to us.”

“Oh, hush, Mother,” Father laughed. “She likes you. She would have grown very impatient and ran ramped to find you if it was up to her.”

I smiled. How lovely, my friends wished to come to whisk me away. Too bad they were only the products of a child’s fancies.

“I look forward to your arrival, Father, Mother.”

“See you soon,” Father cried.

“Farewell,” Mother muttered grudgingly.

I open my eyes to the wooden beams of the ceiling, cold seeping into my bones. If only they would come.

Regular prompts are also still open. I'll try to get a poem out tomorrow but no promises.