Authors-Club

I think I was you once but you don't remember then you were your former self absorbed but traces of your former thoughts will sometimes fly across imagination very incomplete your memories appear in dreams sometimes I'm writing a history of a lost people imagined from some fragments of your lost ideas a strange story impossible to forget as long as I remember that I was once a stranger

‘Seven we were, and seven we fell, seven in strength, by honour bound now none but names, now none remain, to light the lands of multitudes. For while we stood, we held our ground and seven by seven foes in rage could not bear battle at our shields; they fell to us, we fearless few. But then, when Haeleth fell, we lost not one of us but all of us; lost all our light, our heavens’ shine, what worth we have should we yet live? A spear it was brought day to dusk, in shadow threw us, we who stayed; she was unflinching, the faultless one, when gored by ash-wood, dropped her shield. The blood streamed forth like sun’s rays, pierced in the neck, her cries went forth though once the purest tones of songcraft, then darkened to a raven’s croak. Since Haeleth fell, she who led us, to the field, gave grief to many; now Lēoma’s hall is brighter, and we are lost, in darkness cast, this song all that of us remains; the sons of I’uddiff, on shores of fate.’”

Première rencontre - 3 V. 1.0 Je m’étais incliné sans mot dire. Quand l’on voyage au Kalkhabad, il est toujours judicieux de ne dévoiler son identité véritable qu’avec parcimonie, et la nature de ma mission était un motif de prudence supplémentaire. Mon interlocutrice ne sembla pas se formaliser de mon silence. Elle acheva de s’extraire de la cage et fit un signe de la main en direction du vestibule : — Je vous ai dit que je me montrerais généreuse et je tiendrai parole. Allez m’attendre près de la cheminée, voulez-vous ? Et oserai-je vous mettre encore à contribution en vous priant d’allumer le feu, le temps pour moi de vous rejoindre ? Puis, me gratifiant d’un nouveau sourire, elle referma prestement sur moi la porte de la chambre de bois. En m’éloignant, j’entendis le frottement d’un objet traîné au sol suivi d’un claquement sec, comme un volet que l’on aurait rabattu. La surélévation entre le terrain naturel et le plancher devait dissimuler un espace libre servant à mettre

Derek’s awareness returned slowly, and yet it still felt like the world was spinning. He felt that his clothes, or at least something, was covering him. He tried to move but felt his wrists and ankles bound. As his senses returned he found gravity pulling at his back, he was hanging from something. So… that’s how this one’s gonna go then, is it? He tested his bindings, they weren’t tight but they were thick and unlikely to break. That left trying to snap the stick he was tied to, but as he blinked the blur away from his eyes he found that task would be impossible. He wasn’t tied to one stick but rather three shafts of bamboo that had been hashed together. Damn it. Although he cursed at his situation, escaping his binds wouldn’t help considering his captors were literally in arms reach. He looked up and got a face full of tiger tail and armor, in front of which was Shina, leading the formation. He started to look down and found his shoes tied above him with his socks stuffed inside

A Rose; From the Black Petal Man’s Garden Ho, now, thru and true, I stop thee, fair maid, on whateverthoust may descend upon thee that would have you rushing at this late hour; and thru my fields no less. Pray not thee warrant a fear, for what else could fields be made for if not for trampling about. … Pardon me, your Grace, but it would seem upon fair look of thee I recant my previous abrasion and see now to give you the proper respect you deserve. So fine a Lass could only flee in such tumultuous haste and fury if she were being pursued by foul wickedness of Ideals or the corruption that spawns in all our Kind. Pray that we not see corruptions sludge on one of the Kindred, for we may have to slay both an ideology and a friend. Nevertheless, my dear lady these moments are but common concern to our kind, as I recognize thee as a thing of beauty, regardless your haste. Pray, let me offer you refuge in my hidden home, it would be of most taking to a Lady of your stature, I assure

It has been some time since I wrote an entry on this page in a tone of candid seriousness. Yet circumstances, the state of affairs, and with Memorial Day Weekend just a few hours away, I feel a desire to speak. There needs be little mention that the pandemic and the ensuing conflict in Ukraine have turn what was already our unstable mindset, anxious nature, and present illness into an upheaval unmitigated. But just as our little group grapples, once again, with our mental illness under trying circumstances; Us ourselves are joined by the recent victims, living and deceased, of two Mass-Shootings in America. Not all of us are Americans in this group. But what I have hoped that groups and avenues like this Literary Page have inspired is a sense of empathy toward our fellow patients in the field of psychological maladies. It is this empathy, Empathy that is shared among all Humans during times of both crisis and joy, that I ask that Us all share this Memorial Day weekend. Although

11:15 Benjamin Waller arrived by wagon with a dusty trail blowing through the air behind him to the town of Gatlin. The youthful man had come to this town in his rickety, creaking wagon, the sound of which pierced his ears through the entire ride, with the prospect of starting a new life. After all, this town was known as being an up-and-coming mining town with green pastures, opens ranges ready to be made into ranches, and money to be made in the mountain mines nearby. Yet as Ben Waller drove into town, stirring up the dust of the road beneath his squeaking wagon wheels, he found the town to be all but abandoned. He pulled hard against the reigns, making the two brown horses come to a stop on command, and he took on the sight of not a bustling mining town just waiting to prosper but a destitute wasteland. No green pastures, just dust and sand as far as the eye could see through the wind which was starting to pick up, stinging his eyes. No open ranges, nothing but desert in every

Chapter 7: You Can’t Stop Fate There is an old saying “fate is like clockwork”, sometimes our lives are written by fate, but other times our fates have yet to be written. But what happens when fate is tampered with, do you think you can stop it or better yet change it? Do you believe you can turn the hands of fate yourself? I don’t believe anyone can, because one thing was made clear for me… No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, and no matter what course of action you take. You can’t stop what fate has already written. --- June 20, 1897 9:12 p.m. By the time they made it outside, Basil and Anna somehow managed to crawl onto Toby’s back and got Toby to stop. Caught up to them, Dawson lifted Olivia up and Anna pulled the girl up behind her. While the doctor was struggling to climb on board, Anna and Olivia helped the poor doctor climb onto Toby’s back. As the four passengers were riding on Toby’s back, with Basil holding onto the leash, Toby was sniffing the wet

I like art, but I don’t like art galleries. I’d just gotten off of a long, hard case, and I didn’t want to be here tonight. But Uncle David’s been dead-set on me being his plus one, and we owe the Hylands everything. After all, who else appointed him as Chief of Police? At least I had an excuse to buy a new dress— a nice one with a low v-cut and a leg split. I don’t look half-bad in navy blue. While nursing a glass of boozy punch (and wishing it was a beer), my uncle suddenly yanks me away from the bar and pulls me to a corner by the dance floor. “You see that young man over there?” He points to the other side of the room. “The one with the mayor?” I follow his pointed thumb and see Mayor Hyland with a man dressed in black. He’s sporting a familiar shock of carroty-red hair. I can’t get a clear look of his face, but I know him straightaway. “Wait, is that…” “Yeah,” my uncle confirms. “Little Rocco’s back.” Rocco Cassidy Hyland. The second son of Mayor Hyland. An awkward music

SCENE 1. INTRO MUSIC SNIPPET INTERVIEWER: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to our coverage on what is rapidly becoming known as the Carrie Case. We are pleased to announce that the four individuals involved in the police questioning have elected to come to us to tell us their story, a story they believe is not appropriately understood by the press. So sit back, turn up your radios, and let’s try to figure this one out before the police can. SHUFFLING OF PAPERS INTERVIEWER (CONT): For anyone listening who isn’t up to speed, the hot topic is a recently uncovered murder case. Two weeks ago, police were notified by a local landlord—who has kept his name off the record—that an apartment he let was found to have human blood underneath the living room wallpaper, enough human blood to suggest the person in question did not survive the blood drain. He is placing blame on four former tenants who put up the wallpaper just before they vacated the property. The unsolved murder case from

Female Lead: Once there was a cup but it was full of black, boiling and festering liquid. Unable to rid itself of the bad fluids the cup desperately tried to move to make the water overspill. But then the little cup moved too much and tumbled down the table. It suffered a nasty crack but through that crack all the black liquid flowed out. A gentle soul picked up the cup and mended the crack with a bit of gold. And the little cup, albeit hurt and cracked felt better than it had ever before. And it told all its friends how falling down and getting hurt had been bad but had helped it rid of the bad stuff inside. “Sometimes you must break to be able to build something back up I guess” it said and smiled. Female Lead: Broken, suffering from extensive damage Broken, kept together by a simple bandage Broken, tear bleeding and hurting Broken, wound festering and burning Female and Male Lead/Refrain: I am broken but I will stand my ground I am broken but I will not despair I am broken but