The sword hilt slipped from his hand as he staggered back. Leather-palmed gauntlets slick with blood, his own and that of dozens of men, could yet have gripped, had his hands the strength for it.
In the steaming corpse at his feet, the blade angled outward, once shining and ceremonial, now chipped and ruined by the armor and bone it had overcome. It had belonged to his father, to his grandfather, and to a king before that; when this was over, he thought, it would hang on his wall and never again leave his sight.
This was the last of...
This dream was better than waking.
The fact that I *knew* I was dreaming kinda freaked me out. Inception was just a movie right? Right? Leo? Talk to me man.
Leo ignored me. So did the really tall blonde in a small bikini, slowly, slowly rubbing suntan lotion on her legs.
Yup. Definitely a dream. Even the ignoring was standard issue me dream.
I looked around me. I was on a beach, somewhere, Leo beside me sketching the girl with the lotion. Up the beach, toward the headland, three young men were playing hacky-sack. I looked a bit closer. Hacky-sack...
Old Joseph "Moonshine" Clark was sitting in his tattered wooden rocking chair facing the door, sleeping. The beer he'd downed an hour previously was good stuff and he was sleeping it off. He awoke suddenly. There was a scratch at the door. Then another scratch. And then the house erupted in nails-on-chalkboard scratching sounds, all over the place. As the symphony of scratching grew louder and louder, Moonshine shivered. Adding to the terrible noises was a new, more heart-wrenching sound- the plaintative crying of a baby. Moonshine groaned. He'd known somehow that they'd do this, try to drive him mad...
This was the month she was going to do it. Yes, really. This time.
Sitting down at the keyboard she faced the blank screen. First things first, time for coffee.
Now she could start. Come on, come on, come on. Where is my muse?
She strokes the keboard, searching internally for inspiration.
PUFFFF!
At first she thinks the computer screen is broken. Or maybe a virus has hijacked her software. She peers in astonishment.
A green face is forming in front of her eyes. At first the details are vague and hazy. Then it grows clearer. Yes, definitely a face....
Atop a ferris wheel the poor anxious squirrel found himself above the world far far away from the comfort of his tree and pile of nuts. As the wheel spun behind him, Mr. Squirrel ran ahead trying to keep up as he felt with every turn he would fall. As he lost ground he noted ascending higher and farther away from the ground. 'A telephone pole... a cable... a branch?' he thought could perhaps bring him to safety. When suddenly a gush of wind caused his tiny claws to slip across the rusty painted metal and he slipped. Falling, falling,...
They were trapped for seven days. Aleena tried to hold back the tears as it had been seven days since she had seen the wolf- warrior Felan being taken away by Balor. She felt that she had let everyone down: the people who had brought her up as their own. She wondered where they were; if they were still trapped in the cage that she had tried to rescue them from when she and Felan had been caught. She wished she could see them one more time, even if it was to say sorry for bringing them into this. They...
She cradled the faun's head. Tears, vivid green, stained the slight creature's pale skin. Her story wasn't meant to end this way.
Shashera stroked Ferin's cheek. "I'm so sorry, my friend," she whispered, leaning down to press her lips to his brow. The faun shuddered at the chill of her touch.
"You weren't supposed to let him in," he said, voice weak, but thick with accusation. "You were our protector." Another tear dropped from her lashes to splash onto his chest and he jerked at the impact.
"I know." The nymph settled her friend back on the bed. "But it's...
The city of Asgoth was falling out of the sky, and there was nothing that Jorund could do to stop it. Enemy dragons spat greek fire, swarming in and around its once-grand towers. Helium vestibules melted and ruptured, and the city sunk faster and faster.
They could only save themselves. Jorund struggled with the helm of the Zephyr, trying to escape Asgoth's widening shadow. He grimly looked across the atmosphere at the enemy warship. Charin was standing on the bridge, his hands full of magic and his eyes full of hate. This wasn't the Academy anymore; things were settled in...
When it started growing, it really started growing. Guisseppe spotted it one morning as he rolled his fruit cart into the market, a strange, brilliantly green shoot pushing its way up through the cobblestones, defiantly pointing towards the sky. The next morning it had doubled in size. Guisseppe had tried to pull it up, but it stubbornly clung to ground, remaining entrenched in the stones at the edge of the market.
Over the next several days, it shot up several stories, its thick green trunk bursting through the ground, its flat broad leaves opening and gathering in the sun. No...
The wires passed from hand to hand in the complex trading ritual. THe boy watched raptly, taking his training with the serious concentration of surgeons and chess-masters.
"You wrapped the wrong red and pulled the wrong green," he noted to his papa in mixed Spanish. The wires were then braided into his hair, the auburn hues mixing with the artificial Christmas tones.
"The day your hair grows out of these strands, you will have all there is to desire in this world. On that day, you may cut these colors and move on to the next."
The tea kettle screamed...