The Bud._Phantomscape_Gallery 117_Liars Anonymous
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The Bud.
“Abigail, look there is a bud on the apple tree.” Jace pointed towards the little flower. Abigail looked up following his gaze. This was the first sign of spring they had seen. The ground itself was still covered with snow, and most of the living things had taken a grey quality to them. It seemed as if the whole world had been painted white and grey. She smiled at the little pink bud. It had been a hard winter with almost a constant snow fall. There had been times when the two of them had been unsure if they would get their next meal. Money had become obsolete, and things had reverted back to ...
Phantomscape
That’s the thing about this city…some believe it’s haunted.There are the urban legends that every tough street-smart teen hears, about petrifying phantoms that only weave spells of darkness and enchantment in the inky blackness of night-glimpsed from top-floor casement windows.Here are students who blanch, with faces like undercooked pudding, whenever ghosts are even mentioned, coupled with the name of this mysterious city- Everfall. Some can sense the suspenseful chill in the air and the sense of a supernatural stalker, watching, waiting, aloft in the shadows. Most dismiss the myths that agha...
Gallery 117
I don't remember being created, but I know who created me. I don't know how long I've been aware, but I know when I started. I have no finite sense of myself, but I know what I'm made of.This knowledge comes from a small card that hangs somewhere below me. I have heard the card read aloud enough times that I have memorized its inscription.Johnathan Durhem, American, born 1838; The Fountain, 1860; oil on canvas; 35 x 48 inches; Bequest of William M. Durhem.I have never seen myself, but I know what I look like. Docents, guides, and visitors have described me aloud many times.My surface shows a f...
Liars Anonymous
Pamphlets and books were strewn around with coffee and half-eaten donuts on the table, a clear indicator that the meeting had begun. Everyone shifted their weight in the creaky church chairs, ready to listen the Newcomer’s share.Christoph paused when it was his turn, taking a second to clear his throat and make eye contact with as many people as he could.“Hi, my name is Christoph.”“Hi, Christoph, welcome,” the room murmured.“Thank you," he tilted his head up as he spoke thoughtfully.“My father used towww.onedoor.cc drink every night until he couldn’t walk straight anymore… and would be banging into walls an...