The Sands of Eternity



A waking of spirit, of whimsical misnomers and silence of the new world. 


She could feel the warmth first, soft and almost enveloping.  It was beneath her fingers, the tips of each feeling granules like sand as she pulled them in and closed a palm over the gathered land.  It was down her bare arm as well, and though she felt it at her chest and ribs and still lower at her hips which pressed deeper into the sands, she felt a division, clothing, yes, that is what it was, something simple, but not past her thighs where the sands again welcomed her within their warm folds.  It was sand, of course, for she heard the water very near, lapping at a shore that couldn’t be but a stretch away.  But she saw nothing, save for a brightness, not color, but light, beyond the thin veils of eyelids. Continue reading

abacus XX


I came to where I’d left off, the sound of screaming filling the dark cell, only now I realized it wasn’t me that was letting it out.  The Vampire had sunk his teeth in my neck and drank from my dark blood, a blood that for a Vampire would be like drinking fire.  I’d forgotten about this little detail until just now and it recalled me back to the time I first realized this.  Continue reading

Crimson Night

                She stood at the corner of the street, her hair red, dark, but unmistakably red.  Her face was a pale slate framed by her dark hair, rounded chin, dark eyes that could bore a hole through a wall if they were to stare just a little too long.  She wore a short leather jacket with sleeves that extended the length of her arms, just beyond the tips of her thin fingers.  It was zipped up to just under her chin where it hugged her neck, a clasp pulled across the front and belting holding it tightly closed.  Her boots were black, thick and capable.  The rest of her was covered in black as well, including a skirt, but not for style, for ability.  The two swords she had belted across her jutted hips said as much.  The gun belted to her other hip said more.

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Topic 3: The Loneliest Killer Robot by Patrick Pugh

                Let me tell you a story.  It is about a man by the name of Howard Arkin.  A name you may be familiar with, I have little doubt.  But in case you are not familiar with it, indulge me a mere moment while I inform you as to his personage.  For this story tethers heavily on the very being of the man himself and how he came to be, and whom he came to be, and why in the end I had to kill him.  I promise this will all make sense when I am finished. Continue reading

Topic 2: In The Hanging Gardens of Babylon by Andrew Thomas Prenger

The top floor of the building was like nothing else in the world. You waited in the elevator for minutes unending until the doors opened into a rainforest deep in the heart of the city. The humidity hit you like a punch in the chest. The air was so thick that you could chew it. Even after years of daily trips to the floor the young man in the elevator was still caught off guard by it. Continue reading