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“I just wanna go home,” her voice was rasped, the light hurting her eyes. “So come home,” ground control replied, a dry with age male voice. “So come home,” replwww.onedoor.ccied the stars. Day 278 since the Accident. She was running low. Her rations cut short, the only one left. Dry bread and packaged water. She knew she couldn’t make it; it was a ten-day trip to Mars, a five-day trip back home. “I don’t think I’ll make it, Jackson.” She had grown to think of the old man as a friend, but probably he was just another AI, no person in their right sense of mind would answer her calls no matter the time of day...
lately in the village...
lately in the village..."surprises always happen", genoa finished her topic talking to 'lady' the unwanted horse whom has appeared in the barn waiting to be attended. "i am no liar to beggars or the hungry..."'we haven't enough valuable time to sacrifice our own we make a living with', raising to her manners and a glare to provide no attention. "we ain't either mad; we are smart but a bit crazy." Mira scooted along her washing dishes; tuned to knowledgeable to her choices in the village garden.a letter smelt of burnt ash was picked up by her as hours gone by, but found what letter on the rubba...
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Once upon a time, there was a kingdom ruled by a King and his loving and adoring Queen. Together, they birthed two children, the oldest was a Princess and the youngest was a Prince. The young royals were sheltered, having never stepped outside of the castle. Rumors say that the Princess was one of the fairest of them all, while her brother was one of the most well-behaved children in the land. Subjects of the kingdom adored the perfect image of the royal family but failed to realize that the perfect image was simply an image. If there was one thing that was not a rumor, was that Princess Libr...
Crimes and How to Stop Them
That’s the thing about this city: turning the corner is forever a mystery. You never know if you’ll find scavenging raccoons, off-the-clock clowns, or a dead body. Unfortunately, I’ve seen all three.The Manhattan School of Arts has never been my dream. Unfortunately, when your father runs the school, it’s kind of hard not to get in. My grades have always been good though, and the private school and personal tutor didn’t hurt. Neither did any of the hundred lectures given to me, “Preston, you need to start taking this seriously. Your future is now, and you need to…” That was the point where I ...