The Winter Heir_How Else Could It Be?_The New World (I never said it had to be good one)_The Chinese
Catalog Guide:
The Winter Heir
Somber storm clouds hung in such a way that hid the moon and set the stage for a daring rescue. Amaranth, in all her pixie stature, faced the iron gates imprisoning the souls of Silvan Mansion. She tied a flashlight to her oxygen mask as she made her way towards the garden. Perhaps, she fancied herself playing the role of the prince saving her beloved from his glass-covered tower, but she was truly a fool for not heeding his warnings.A part of her knew she had no place standing beside the heir to the Silvan Family. She was a finch with coffers as lackluster as her grey eyes. Regulus was a bird...
How Else Could It Be?
“Sorry.” He turned with the impact as he said it, to face the woman he’d bumped shoulders with. The woman started and began to turn back towards him, but the rush of the crowd pushed him to turn forward again and push across the street before he saw her face. A voice barked at him and he felt something catch his leg. He hopped wildly, and just managed to extricate his foot from the strap of rolling luggage. He turned to face the suit pulling the luggage passed him, but the face was already turning away with a wordless note of annoyance. He followed the back edge of the crowd to the far side ...
The New World (I never said it had to be good one)
It's been many years now, and yet there hasn’t been a single small crack in the way the zombies own and rule the world. No one saw it coming until it was too late, of course they didn't, no one ever does for these kinds of things. Either that or no one gave a shit, wouldn't have been the first time humanity stared it's own destruction in the face and did nothing to stop it.It all started back in 2020, exactly 86 years ago. Rumor says it was a virus or some shit like that that started it, no one really cares about the details anymore, most of us have given up hope anyway. It's not exactly fun b...
The Chinese Room Problem: >./experience seed=MARA.txt
Mara has red hair in the picture I keep on my nightstand. It’s 2012 and she’s leaning against a brick wall, smoking a cigarette, trying to look cool in her favorite red and black flannel. She was wearing that shirt when the accident happened. She died badly, half of her body pinned beneath our overturned car, a stupid accident turning us upside down. She was screaming in pain at her ragged upper arm, absent its lower half. The world smelled of gasoline mixed with the copper of her blood. Small rowww.onedoor.cccks on the pavement dug into my face as I watched her struggle to move a ton of wrecked fiber glass...