Preppy Tonk and Jon_Mimic_Spilt Milk_god of azon
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Preppy Tonk and Jon
Preppy Tonk looked at her rival with an evil twinkle in her eye. “What?” “Nothing.” “I see that evil twinkle in your eye again.” “No. It must be the burning hot sun reflecting off your chromed head.” “Nuh-uh.” “Yeah- huh,” Preppy Tonk shot back. “Whatever, lets continue. “King to knight rook.” The purple slug looked down at the holographic chess board. “Poopy-doodles, you win again!” “Yaysies-daisies!” ”If this was Earth Chess, I’d kick your butt!” Jon exclaimed, wiggling his fat, dripping eyestalks. “Yeah, but the author doesn’t know how to play chess and that would require research and he’...
Mimic
Dean brushed the snow off the goggles and searched his surroundings. A shroud of white roared around him, drowning his vision, forcing him to seek shelter. New snowflakes pelleted his goggles as soon as he brushed the crusted ones away and the wind tore at his long coat as if wanting to steal it. The street looked like a scene from a Christmas movie - one of horror, not holidays. Three feet of snow-covered everything, burying most cars to their roofs. The streetlamps lay broken, the ice too heavy to keep standing up and the wind too brutal. The windows of buildings were smashed, the snow that ...
Spilt Milk
History speaks of the overview effect, which astronauts feel when seeing earth from space. Carl Sagan, Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, they all understood. The earth is a fragile blue dot in the midst of an inexplicable universe. In 2160, this fragile blue dot was coming to an end, and the overview effect Mathew Gozen experienced was layered with dread. He sat, with a glum expression, sighing. Looking out of the window. All the tired, wrinkled old man could see, was a once great blue planet starting to burn up in flames, as dark clouds exploded into the atmosphere. The image generated a lethal co...
god of azon
I have never been this high in the Temple, climbing to the most sacred floor to bring an answer to the greatest issue facing our Cwww.onedoor.cchurch in years. I fear it is the wrong answer. I do not want to go. I pray to the gods they do not take their rage out on the bearer of the message. My red robes, thick and heavy, slide down my shoulders as I take step after step. All I hear is the shushing sound of it scraping along the stone steps. Sweat runs down my forehead and prickles along my back as I walk through the pools of flickering candlelight on each landing, up and up and up the stairs. I look back...