Ideas in Ink: Death and Rebirth

Aceri

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Hmm, I guess it's time to see if my creative juices are still flowing.

Prompt: Ashes

She couldn't understand it, how her mommy could fit inside that tiny box. She refused to believe it was her. I couldn't let her grow up believing that her mommy was okay, so I got her to understand how she could fit inside it. She wanted to be cremated, that was her wish. Once I finally got the money to fulfill her wish, I did just that. I placed her on the mantle above our fake fireplace so that she could occupy the most space in the house, the primary place our daughter and I spent our time.

Eventually I had to move her into the garage. I hated doing it, but all my little girl would do was spend the entire day staring at it. And no matter where I tried placing it in the house, she would follow it and do the same thing. I hid her in the garage in a special place I made years back just for my most precious things, so that my daughter wouldn't break the things valuable to me. I felt like a bad person for doing it, but I felt I had no other choice.

My baby came home from school today more excited then I had ever seen before. When I asked her what she was so gleeful about, she told me she learned something very interesting at school that day. I asked her what it was, but she refused to tell me. I tried for a couple hours to get her to tell me, but like her mother she was stubborn. She wouldn't do any of her work or eat her dinner until I let her see her mommies remains. With a reluctant sigh I went to the garage and grabbed her, gently placing her down on the coffee table in the living room. She told me that she wanted to see inside the box. I insisted that we already had gone over that before, but she was persistent. I finally gave in, figuring there was no harm in letting her see. I took her out of the decorative cloth bag she rested in and opened the lid of this small, faded gold box. Without saying anything she took her hands out from behind her back and produced an egg she had grabbed from the fridge while I was getting mommy. Quickly but gently she placed the egg inside, as close to the center of the ashes as she could and closed the lid. She smiled a wide smile at me, and I asked her why she did that. She told me:

"Today in class we learned about Phoenixes!"
Prompt: Empty Beds
I try to put it out of my mind so I can rest, but no matter how hard I try, this empty bed reminds me of what I lost. The once natural motion of wrapping my arms around her before falling asleep has been replaced with intent staring. In the back of my mind I have this fantasy that if I stare at her side of the bed long and hard enough, she'll somehow be there. The nightly attempts end in sadness and disappointment.

When I dream, it is always about her. The dreams are always vivid. In the world where she never left us I can smell her. I can feel her when we touch. The dreams are nightmares. Every night I dream I am aware that I am in a dream with her. She talks as if nothing ever happened, and I just smile and try to enjoy the moment, giving her as many hugs and kisses as she'll let me. It tears me apart because I know that when I wake, she wont be there anymore. It feels like every night I get her back and loose her all over again, it gets unbareable sometimes. If I didn't have our daughter to look after, I don't know what I'd do.
Prompt: Hallways of Tomorrow
I finally brought myself to pack most of her things. I am thankful that our daughter was at school during that time, she doesn't need to know that her father couldn't bring himself to put all of her mommies things away. All I will tell her is that I have packed everything up and moved them to the basement. I can't let her see my weakness, not when she needs me to be strong for her.
She always loved wearing her sweat pants and sweater in the house. I admit that I thought it made her look much cuter. I was glad we didn't live in a place that got too hot, those clothes were like her comfort zone, her safe place, as strange as that sounds. She felt the most at ease in them. They were also the last thing she ever wore.

After she had passed, I saw no need to wash her clothes anymore. I would begin to do it out of habit, but then it would hit me that she'd never wear them again. I managed to wash just about everything before I packed them away though, just so one day if our daughter inherited her clothes they'd be somewhat clean. After bringing the last of the boxes to the basement and going back into our room for some rest, I realized that I had forgotten to wash her favorite clothes.

I picked them up meaning to bring them to the basement with everything else, but once I grabbed hold of them I couldn't move any longer. I stood there in front of the closet for several minutes, not moving, not a thought passing through my mind, just looking at the clothes. Suddenly it hit me. I fell to my knees, embraced the clothes as tight as I could and lost it. I was unable to control myself, and in that moment I wanted to do nothing else. I squeezed the clothes as tight as I could, resting my head against the shoulder of the sweat shirt in a futile attempt to rest my head on her shoulder, soaking it in the process. Every time I breathed I could smell her on the clothes, and that only served to make me intensify what I was doing.

Once I recovered, I made my way downstairs into the kitchen. I opened up one of the drawers and grabbed two of the biggest zip-lock bags we had. I went back to our room and gently put the pants and shirt in their own bags. I squeezed the air out as tightly as I could, trying to preserve her smell for as long as possible. Once they were fully sealed, I opened up the cedar chest at the foot of our bed and buried it deep inside of it, then locked the chest so my daughter wouldn't get in there and see what had done.
Tomorrow I am taking my daughter to go see her grandparents, my wife's family. I plan on letting her stay the night over there. She wants to know things about her mommies childhood that I can't answer for her. They should be able to tell her about those things when I cannot.

Prompt: Where the Sky Takes You

Today starts my daughters first day of her first summer vacation. I want to take her someplace but I don't know where. Maybe I'll take her to the place where I grew up. Can't afford to go over seas unfortunately. On second thought I think I might take her to an amusement park. The one in my home town is really good, so that kills two birds with one stone, and we haven't enjoyed ourselves for a while now so it will be a nice change.
I asked her how she felt about going to see my old home then to a theme park and she was ecstatic. As soon as the words, "theme park" escaped from my lips she yelled in excitement and lunged at me, hugging me tightly. I am glad she is so excited, we both could really use a chance to get away from all the sorrow that still lings around our home.

We were finally able to board our plane after having to wait for over two hours because our flight had a layover. This will be her first time on a plane, but instead of being scared like I was the first time I flew, she was more like her mother, stealing the window seat from me and gazing out in amazement. I smiled before telling her to sit down and put her belt on because we were about to take off. That initial force she felt when the plane lifted off excited her and astounded her, and much to my dismay, made her talk insistently about the amusement park we were going to.

Prompt: Another Open Door

We arrived at the park the following day. Looking at her stand there in awe of the place was a heart warming experience, and I found it very cute. I asked her what she wanted to do first, but she couldn't make up her mind, she wanted to do everything at once so it was up to me to decide. Once I figured out a good place to start, I sat her on the back of my neck, smiling at her giggle as I lifted her up and placed her there. She gripped my hair while I held on to her feet and I began walking to the concession stand and ordered two cotton candies. The giant fluffy ball of sugar amazed her.
I couldn't help but think about how young she still was. Everything was still fresh and brand new to her. I don't remember I was left in awe over a simple thing, but she was, almost all the time. She is so bright and full of energy I can't help but think about how bright her future will be. I'll do everything I can to ensure she gets all the opportunities in her life that her mother and I always wanted for her.

Prompt: All's Fine

Prompt: Ending Madness
Prompt: Words Not Said
Prompt: Yesterday's Keeper

Prompt: Blank Slate

I plan on filling these all out, but I want to post once I'm done with each segment just so I know it's saved.
 
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ZeroAtEnd

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Prompt: The Iniquitous Gospel 

One dark Summer night, the progeny of the Thatcher family sets on peregrinations. A course trailed beyond the safety of home, and the blackened forest in the distance. The woods where all things malevolent laid in lethargy, and await their premature awakening.The religious jurisprudence warned every citizen in the surrounding countries; about that malevolent forest in the distance. How they feared of something demonic stalking every mile, pathway, and coppice within the boundaries of uncertainty; the precariousness of the forest.
The atrocious truth spoken softly in the ears of the terrified, and their safety stripped with every detail. The inclination to coward in fear, and diminished by the jurisprudence; who's aplomb is equivalent to the folks that heard the truth. Nevertheless, this mere adolescent who's courageous journey cost him them one affair they've dread to lose, their lives. “Gehenna, that's what it is called, Gehenna..” The high priest, would recite those words during each service.
 

Ksi

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I... don't recall that being one of the prompts? (Pssst! You're supposed to use the prompts from the OP)
 

CWells

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Prompt: Ashes; PG-13? For descriptions of war, destruction.

Ringing in the ears. Tingling throughout his whole body. Breathing, difficult. All he could do was dart his eyes left and right. Debris rained around him. A heavy object was digging into his back, tearing away, ripping flesh and crushing bone. He saw wheels of a large vehicle to his right. He could hear fire and gunshots. There was another explosion, followed by the persistent wailing of what sounded like a desperate woman. No, it was a vehicle. The whistle and beeps assured him of this. Before he could form a thought, his consciousness finally acquiesced to the pressure upon it, like a mosquito squashed under a thumb.

"Robert?" a voice called.

"My name is Kyle Gainesworth. I was told you can hear me. I know some things about you.

I'm a friend."

The machine which Robert clung to for life hissed. His monitor beeped rhythmically with the seconds.

"I was also told you were paralyzed from the chest down. Your cousin Lucas suggested I let you

in on a secret. It could save your life and restore full use of your body. But it comes with a price."

"I don't care about the price" would have been Robert's reply if he could talk. A rocket

destroyed his home. An army of bots swarmed the city and left nothing but

dissected streets and buildings. It was like an earthquake. Robert only felt hate.

"Anyway, this would only be an experiment. If it does restore your mobility in full,

you would become something more. You would be permanent property to

the government. See, this is a special combat suit. And it looks like you would be

the very first subject."

Kyle paused and observed Robert, who glared at him. His breathing quickened.

The monitor beeped frantically.

"I want you to think it over. When I return, I will have something that you can use

to respond. I'll be waiting for your response."

"Don't go!" he wanted to shout as Kyle walked away. His head ached.

Phantom movement only taunted him. It made him feel as if he were moving.

In truth, he barely budged more than two inches the whole time he was conscious.

It was torture. His body was a prison.

"Yes, the answer is yes"

Robert wanted to know more about the attack. He wanted to get involved.

He was motivated to find reasons for the attacks going on around the country. When the

power outages came there was confusion and silence. As patience among the public began

to thin, as tension rose, the droids came and delivered one final push toward anarchy.

Robert's life and hopes became ash with the loss of his home.

With nothing to lose, he would relish the chance at fighting back.

He waited for Kyle to return. He waited for his chance to be reborn.
prompt: Empty beds:

Prompt: Hallways of Tomorrow

Prompt: Where the Sky Takes You

Prompt: Another Open Door

Prompt: All's Fine

Prompt: Ending Madness

The chemicals that bound Robert's suit had poisoned his mind. He heard voices.

Sometimes the voice only hummed by like a passing insect. Other times

it was clear, audible and loud. He argued with himself. Robert became

dysfunctional government property. But the mission wasn't over.

Robert walked out of headquarters after assaulting his own people. The mysterious properties

of this silver suit had pushed his sanity over the edge. He had finally submitted himself to

madness. Long claws that dressed his hands hummed with mysterious energy. He wiggled his fingers,

observing how they felt the influence of all metallic objects around him. As if he

were some sort of puppet master pulling strings. He jerked his hands back

as if pulling an imaginary rope. A car flew up toward him. He caught it, then slammed

it into the entrance to the building. He shouted in agony as his suit telekinetically

warped the steel, compressing it against the door, sealing it shut.

Sometimes it seemed to act independently of Robert's will.

"I can finish the war." he muttered and ran toward the ocean...
Prompt: Words Not Said

Prompt: Yesterday's Keeper
Prompt: Blank Slate

 
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kiedisticelixer

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I'm not sure I got the idea, but I wanted to give it a shot.

Prompt: Ashes

Prompt: Empty Beds
Prompt: Hallways of Tomorrow
Prompt: Where the Sky Takes You
Prompt: Another Open Door
Prompt: All's Fine
Prompt: Ending Madness
And there he was, as handsome as ever. Staring at me from the distance. He knew that I had it coming. He did warn me, but I did not listen.
As the dark fog creeped towards me, his graceful, tender smile turned into a frown. I was pale, not because I was about to be consumed to never return, but rather due to the dispair that invaded my weak, weak mind - I had let him down. I thought I would be able to control myself and those feelings, but I could not. My love for him was never meant to be.

During those warm summer nights...  I would believe it was all just the two of us, and he knew it, and he let it be. But then, blue as the shore in which we would sunbathe, he would come the next day weeping over his unrequitted love. How I wish I was that girl. It was awfully hard to stand that. "Thanks, you're a real friend. I love you." Why would he pronounce those words? He knew what I felt, and didn't mind me watering the sprouts.

I could not see... swallowed by my demons. They found me by the blue shore as the dawn arrived, but I was no more.
Prompt: Words Not Said

Prompt: Yesterday's Keeper
Prompt: Blank Slate
 
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I don't really know if i'm good at writing so i think imma write a poem.. and i dont know if im good at poems and i dont know if this is a poem ._. but.. what the heck.. i wanna try xD


Prompt: Words not Said

Regrets show's up in the end. Yes i know, though i did not tend. Those simple words "Babe, Please don't go, Stay with me please, I love you. I wanted to say it, i really do. But my guts was switched off so i couldn't tell you. I watched you walk, walk through the door. Step by step it tears me whole. Every tick tock of the clock, my mind goes bursting "Dude just stand up!" I wanted to, i wanted to shout. I wanted to bang my head just to make me spill it out. Nope, i can't.. My body froze.I went mute,i couldn't say one single word. As she opens up the door, she then looked at me with her pained look expression. Then she slammed the door, I can't hold it much longer. Then rain drops fell in my eyes like a stormy night weather.
=_= i don't know what to say.. tsk.. you judge guys xD
 
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EternalShadow

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I know this is one day overdue, my internet died yesterday when I tried to post! :p

Hope it's still ok, lol.

Prompt: Ashes

Fawkes' hands, coated with black residue, felt like they'd never be clean again. Tears ran down his cheeks, reaching the curve of his chin before dripping off and splashing in the pile of ash below. From how bowed position, Fawkes was oblivious to the mage that stood before him - but he would likely have been oblivious anyway, save for his grief. His hair draped over his eyes as he shifted backward to sit up, rather than kneel, the fabric of his simple clothes giving little protection against the hard ground. Looking up, Fawkes' fury was betrayed by his gaze upon the mightiest foe he'd ever faced. The foe that'd taken away the love of his life.

"How... Could you?" Fawkes spat, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger, fear and loss. The figure before him merely shook its head, turning away. His long, black hair followed the path of his red robes, fluttering in the wind.

With a grunt, Fawkes urged himself to stand up - grabbing the the handle of his sword sheathed in the scabbard at his side. His fingers clenched it, finding their grip. He pulled it out with a yell, metal screeching against metal, and leapt over the pile of ash toward the mage.

But the mage was prepared for it. With an abrupt movement, he whirled around, raising a hand. Fawkes' bones cracked as a wall of air smacked against him with a mighty blow, throwing his sword away from the force and sending him flying. The ash pile whipped up into the air, also blown away. But the mage didn't care. They'd not known the person that the ash once was.

And finally, Fawkes came crashing down upon the rocky mountainside several meters behind. He yelled with the landing, coughing out blood and lying prone. His hair flattened itself against his face, and his robes that passed for clothes barely held together. He'd taken a lot of damage from the single attack - he was no match for the mage, who huffed and left the man to die.
Prompt: Empty Beds

Janice had always known Kyle since childhood, but she'd never imagined she'd be standing with him, fingers intertwined as they observed an empty bed that once held their third childhood friend. Leukaemia, the doctors had said. Not a quick death, but a relatively peaceful one in the grand scheme of things. He'd developed it while with the Revolutionary Army, and not received sufficient treatment. At least his last days had been spent with those he'd known for most of his life.

"I'm scared, Kyle." Janice spoke at last. She looked to Kyle, eyes moistened by tears. Kyle looked back, understanding her sentiment. "What if they come knocking on our doorstep?"

"Rest assured, they won't, Janice." Kyle smiled briefly, before returning to his mournful gaze directed at the bed and the passing of their friend. "They would have little reason to attack our homestead."

"That's what Vayne said before they..." Janice gulped, her vision trailing toward the window along with her train of thought. "...Before they burnt down his home. Forced him to join the army. I wouldn't put anything out of the minds of those people."

Dark shadows moved across the windows. Many dark shadows, with the silhouettes of spears and helmets visible alongside the basic, unmistakable shape of humans.

"Janice..." Kyle sniffed. He breathed out deeply as someone knocked the front door three times.
Prompt: Hallways of Tomorrow

The path stretched out before the cloaked man, imposing and sheathed in darkness. The man's footsteps echoed in the twilight, his figure reflecting against the smoothened stone. Black as an opal, the road ahead lay no clearer. The man raised a hand to his hood, pulling it off and allowing his tattered, grey hair to drop to his shoulders. His obvious age betrayed his intentions - only those beyond sixty would dare make the journey to the Fountain of Youth, the water from which would either end your life prematurely, send you back in years or restart it entirely. Even knowing the risks, he pressed on as the potential consequences to his own life were minimal.

Of course, he'd told his remaining family about his journey - it was they who helped him reach this place. A journey made in memory of his lost wife. An incurable disease. He turned and looked at the darkness behind himself for one last time, before pressing on.
Prompt: Where the Sky Takes You

The wind sent the ship's sails into a frenzy. They flapped and rustled loudly in the breeze - a sure Gale Force 11 on the scale. Those onboard had already hid themselves below deck, whilst the captain had effectively battened down the hatches in his own personal quarters. This hadn't been their idea of finding the Sky Treasure - they thought it was just a certain treasure with a fancy name, hidden deep within a cove. That there had been a switch in the cove that the treasure nap led them too was baffling enough already. What's more, when the switch had been triggered, their ship outside began to lift into the sky and only a mad scramble - grabbing the anchor, too - managed to get the cave explorers back onboard. And now they were flying through the sky, away from the salty sea and to where oxygen was far thinner.

The elements weren't as kind, either. The sails ripped, the wooden hull began to creak from the extreme winds and the glass in the captain's cabin shattered, splintering into tiny pieces from the vibrations. The captain his under his desk, clutching a chair until the earthquake-like forces had subsided. And whence they finally did, he left his cabin to a scene of total chaos. The wounded were being pulled out of the hold, and some pirates were jeering and cheering, looking over the sides. Clearly many weren't friends of the wounded, or the vast majority were simply interested in looking at the vast, amazing landscape that lay before them. An island in the sky.
Prompt: Another Open Door

The man stood before the oak door. Its frame stood imposingly against his own build, and the shadow cast more than doubt. Nonetheless, he wasn't going to be deterred. Reaching for the time-worn knob, he clutched it and gave it a turn. The door creaked open, its hinges crying out. Light streaked through the opening, widening as the door opened. What lay before the man was a sight he could not fathom. A mile-high brazier with a red-hot flame reached imposingly into the sky.

"Where on Earth...?" The man began, stepping into the otherwise cold, dark and empty room. His eyes followed the flickering pattern of the far-away flames, unable to comprehend them. Unable to even comprehend that the brazier was descending into the floor, bringing the flame ever closer. The flame of rebirth.
Prompt: All's Fine

Mary sat upon the bench that overlooked the sea, the spray whipping against her face and the wind causing her hair to flutter like in a shampoo advert. Her pink dress gave no sign of her forthcoming departure from the world. She looked vacantly over the vast, empty, blue nothingness, nothing more than a light tint of a smile on her lips. Every time a passer-by asked her if she was alright - presumably after having observed her for the past ten minutes - she would simply reply: "All's Fine."

And so it came to be that when the sun descended over the horizon and the night sky was filled with naught more than stars and distant planets, Mary stood up from the bench, stepping forward off the pier and flung herself into the inky, black sea.
Prompt: Ending Madness

The magician didn't know what to do. His spell had evidently gone awry, and nobody was around to help him. He stood alone in his tower, chaos unfolding. The tapestries burnt, the braziers knocked themselves over and flames scattered and rose around the room, spreading quicker than he could douse them. He screamed as he ran for the door, flinging it open as the hot metal handle seared his skin. With a burn on his hand, he clutched it as he dashed down the spiral staircase, his robes flowing as he went. But too quickly. On the last few steps, he slipped, stumbling over his own legs and carried forward by his weight. He rolled over, landing on his neck and cracking it, his lifeless body tumbling down the stairs. At least it would remain for any adventurer to be seen, given that the body was at the base of the stairs in relation to the flames at the top, and fire couldn't set wood alight.

And so it came to be that when the next unsuspecting travellers stumbled upon his body, they reeled at the sight of the dishevelled corpse, thanking their stars that they wouldn't have to fight the mad magician in order to get to the lost tomb to obtain the treasure of Ga'noom.
Prompt: Words Not Said

They stood side-by-side at the grave, each holding a black lily. One-by-one, they raised their lilies into the air before allowing the prevailing winds to lift them out of their grasp, taking them to the grave. Fluttering down to six feet under. All the while, each one of them wondered what more they could've said to the departed. A man with his daughter, having lost his wife two years earlier: a thought lingered about a potential relationship-to-be. Snatched away by cancer. Twins, fingers entwined within one another's. Thanks for the cake they'd been given last month. The knitting circle: praise for her charitable donations and unrelenting production of amazing weaves. And the departed: for what he should've said many years before, long before he himself had passed. The profession of undying love for his wife.
Prompt: Yesterday's Keeper

"Those who keep today... Bring fourth a new tomorrow!" The aged man loudly proclaimed over the town square, wherein thousands gathered. The crowd listened silently, only the faintest whisper passing the lips of a few. It was a rousing and motivational speech, but they all awaited what was evidently coming: the propaganda. It was inevitable. As inevitable as the rising sun of the next day. No matter how many died, the world would continue to spin on its axis. No matter who, the kingdoms would continue warring. And so it fell to the King's own abdicated father to reclaim the throne, no further bloodline available. It had been a shocking turn of events. Pneumonia, the palace had claimed. But only a few knew the truth. An obvious truth.

"And those who kept yesterday burning alive for those today...!" The King continued. "Their sacrifices will not be forgotten! It was a misfortune that befell my son, but we will continue his legacy and bloodline! Even though I am the last of the Royal Lords, there will be those who'll pick up the flame, I am sure!" He then gestured to the crowd. "All of you!"

And unbelievably, the crowd cheered.
Prompt: Blank Slate

James scrawled onto the slate, dusting chalk off what he'd previously written and rubbed out moments before. A difficult sum, made no easier by the concept of being observed by the class behind him. Paralysis. A thought process interrupted by anxiety. Why did she have to get him to do this sum, observed by so many and open to ridicule, should he make a mistake? Oh yes - because he'd blocked the lavatory that lunchtime. At least school would be over soon, so he could hide himself away from the class roaring with laughter. He truly was a dunce, unfit to be in Upper Maths.

Giving up as the school bell rang, James forlornly placed the chalk back in its rightful place as the rest of the class filed out, chuckling as they went. It'd been a good spot of afternoon entertainment, nonetheless. Miss Wickerman walked over to the boy, signalling him to return to his desk to get his things and return home, but before he did so, he said a sentence that would leave her mind scarred - second-guessing punishments to hand out to her fellow pupils. Not one that would explain his pranks, unless referred to a psychiatrist, but one that would certainly explain his disconnection from the world and his apparent lack of care for any consequences. His inability to solve the sum.

"My grandmother died this morning."
 

RampartCratylus

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I'm not proud of it, but I figured that starting to practice now would be worthwhile!

This is just something I wrote for Ending Madness:

[SIZE=10.5pt]“Helter-skelter, Helter-Skelter!”. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]George the battle cartographer [/SIZE]couldn't[SIZE=10.5pt] take it anymore. Jumping into action, he pulled the trigger on this innocent victim of circumstance: the radio.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Re-fastening himself to his chair he ran his dry, cracked, well-worked hands over his equally cracked and stubbled complexion, his right finally coming to rest on his brow. It perched there with delicacy.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]When walking by the room, anybody who veered close enough right around 9:30 AM could hear “Bah.” If one only heard a written transcript of what he had said all of his time in the Cold Cartographers guild, you’d think he was a goat. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]He violently rummaged through his antique desk’s topmost drawer.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Manifesting with a blank parchment, he pressed it down onto the table, using several granite weights to stabilize the paper. Removing his ballpoint from his holster (a gift from the crew) he got cracking. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Beginning with the legend in the top-right corner of the map, he dragged his fingers lightly across the empty sheet. Poring over the shape of his box he included filled it with a taxonomy of lines. Here, a two dimension staccato suddenly took on a value. All of these jagged lines would slowly coalesce into a new lifeform- a whole. As one of his favorite philosophers might have said it, “Das Wahre ist das Ganze.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Assiduously marking his paper, the sound of footsteps immediately broke his concentration. Lifting his head to face his doorway, a rapid alarum: “Breakout! They’ve discovered base 04! Repeat! We’ve been found! Evacuate!” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]He looked down again at his work, and then looked up again. He took a deep breath and shook his head- a latent grin now etching itself across his mug. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Thus, from heaven once more came his pen, and once more did the ripe earth feel the sting. The concupiscent relation allowed George to draw life from and on the lifeless- to make something that would stand longer than he himself would. He was impregnating his paper with life in the midst of the cold wasteland of the Acorlo battlefields. There was no life to be found but for the movements of his pen across his canvas.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]But when he finished, the enemy broke in. Looking up to meet the loaded muzzle of a gun. A soldier pulls the trigger. Blood sprays from the wound, saturating his work. [/SIZE]
 

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I made some sideview closets for MV!
You can find them in my MV resource thread.
People1.png & SF_People1.png added!!!!

Adventurer:
"Why your body looks like a bird?"

Stranger:
"Because I'm harpy"

Adventurer:
"Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof"

*Both dancing to Pharrell Williams song*
Stream will be live shortly with a make-up session of the Interactive Text Adventure! Feel free to drop by!

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