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Literature Text
My first encounter with Janet was a discussion about the cruelty of animals.
"i know the way they treat those cows...' i lamented.
"it's so cruel, I'm considering writing a letter." she chirped.
"cruel?", i teased "they're treated like princes, I'm circulating a petition to increase cruelty to animals."
"my god, that's awful" she muttered with abject horror.
"I know, it's got to be nipped in the bud, like this whole stunning the animals thing. If i had my way they would be put down with the Tenderizer." i chimed.
"what in the name of god is a Tenderizer?" she was looking a bit green at this point.
"It's a boxing glove with barbed wire wrapped around it" i triumphantly sipped my milk.
It was not, in the traditional sense, a success wooing her.
"i know the way they treat those cows...' i lamented.
"it's so cruel, I'm considering writing a letter." she chirped.
"cruel?", i teased "they're treated like princes, I'm circulating a petition to increase cruelty to animals."
"my god, that's awful" she muttered with abject horror.
"I know, it's got to be nipped in the bud, like this whole stunning the animals thing. If i had my way they would be put down with the Tenderizer." i chimed.
"what in the name of god is a Tenderizer?" she was looking a bit green at this point.
"It's a boxing glove with barbed wire wrapped around it" i triumphantly sipped my milk.
It was not, in the traditional sense, a success wooing her.
Literature
The Wanderer
There was only the sun, and the thirst. For a while it hadn't been so bad, more of a nagging sensation than anything else but as the miles passed and one by the one the others who'd followed in the dark skinned woman's wake collapsed it had changed. From a quiet nagging it grew to be all consuming; blotting out everything else. Now there was just it and the ever more irregular rhythm of her steps as one followed the other, each one harder than the last. But still she staggered onwards beneath the sun's heat, following the woman who'd set out so boldly who knew how long ago. As others gave up and collapsed, never to move again, she carried on,
Literature
Brevity
On the night when worlds meet at the veils of existence
I had a dream
It left me with a cold grip in my heart and a burning acid in my veins
It wasn't the first, and surely won't be my last
But in this night I felt it more clearly than I saw it
And it left me in fear I had never before known
Nor ever want to have again
For it felt as if I had walked in a night of a world at-end
It had not the feel of the world I live in.
The light filtered differently through the air as if the very composition of whatever the inhabitants existed in was not the same as what I am now.
Gravity as a force felt odd, but not so fully as I moved down a long dark ca
Literature
The Verlein
Crafted by yours truly,
The Intrusive Scribe
Physical appearance:
A Verlein’s body is anything but tender. Lithe limbs conceal dense bundles of muscles and nerves, encased in a thick armor of scales of varying shades of swampy green, blue-green like the seas, and the rare grey-green. Crimson blood flows through their veins, as does a potent immune system. Life expectancy is roughly eighty years, but the oldest Verlein on record is two hundred and sixteen.
Blackest black hair with highlights based on the Verlein’s natural association flows freely from their scalps – however, there is a one in eight thousand one hundred and n
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part two
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fabulous writing, if i do say so myself.