Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?
Burrowing tenderly with my hands, I could but adore this beast that had summoned me.
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The sudden daylight and air seemed to revive the being; the mental ringing increased shrilly.The Mental Beacon
- Published 6 years ago.
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