“This place looks like it got puked on, Viv.” I chuckle to myself, putting on my sunglasses so I can take a better look at the rotting lumps of detritus that once was a city.

I can imagine Viv’s smart aleck comeback about not hurting the city’s feelings…

Go to the hospital

To check on my friend,

Receive Error 410:

Gone.

(Temporarily taken down as it is part of a school assignment, I'll put it back later)

"Your Majesty, let me help you out of this predicament!" I begged the Queen, who just a few months ago had been sitting on a throne of gold and ink. To see her now, scarred and gasping for air, lying in a heap on the prison floor was almost too much for m…

My high school art room seems a bit different. I'm not sure if it's just me or if the kilns aren't in the proper place.

I've got something in front of me that I'm supposed to eat. It sort of looks like a thing of Dunkaroos where you dip something into so…

My professor's tears stream down her face, her voice shattered with emotional distress. We sit across from each other aside a table shocked with streaks of pale yellows and oranges that marble its veneer surface. Our yellow chairs are ancient, and the vin…

The third post, well... the third post didn't actually exist. Not in any way that mattered. It was an idea, if you will -- a concept, a metaphor. It was a lynchpin of belief. It was, of course, all hot air and bluster and metaphor, a puff of wind as insub…

It is possible to ever escape one's past life?

A question to which Jean Abelard had always known the answer but to which, as the elevator bore him relentlessly to the 15th floor of the Hôtel Pèlerins, he replied once more.

Never. Liar, thief. Murderer.…

Story is marked as mature

The veil waited, carefully spread over a chair back. All of the dressing room photos had been taken, the bridesmaids and her mother had taken their places, and the bride had a few moments to herself.

The mirror reflected her perfect form, the perfect dre…

The hidden thing inside the pipe twisted, thrusting deeper, spewing waxy slivers of ice in its wake – a fixed point around which their world revolved.

“It can’t be stopped,” he stated.

“How much further?” asked Srinin.

“A few hundred metres; a few …

The hidden thing inside the pipe twisted, thrusting deeper, spewing waxy slivers of ice in its wake – a fixed point around which their world revolved.

“It can’t be stopped,” he stated.

“How much further?” asked Srinin.

“A few hundred metres; a few …

I promise, I did do some testing before taking this site live.

Wand'ring through the glade like a lost Womble on speed, I sought refuge in the cleft of a sycamore tree.

Once upon a midnight dreary, I wrote a Ficlet - loud and clearly

Over many a quaint and curious volume from the days of yore

The first was wooden and splintery. Brittle. Damn thing would fall over at the slightest gust of wind. It wouldn't hold itself up, much less an entire fence.

This one, though... this one was made of metal. Stainless steel. It was solid -- and heavy. …

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Please, come on in and make yourself at home.