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runicloreI should be doing essays, but since it's obvious I'll be up all night with them, I decided to take a short fiction break.
One's greatest works would always be born from nature, Nigel believed. In the pattern of frost stealing over a blushing flower petal, the shape of a snowflake as it fluttered to rest on the frozen pavement, light as a feather and yet containing the chill promise of a long and brutal winter. God created Man from the dust of the earth, and woman again from him. She is heaven to the rough-hewn clay that gave her birth.
What then must one do to regain paradise? Not to ascend to that which waits, where the only admittance is death, but to reach up and bring it down to earth where it belongs - where it should have been all along?
Alas, he did not know. How many Eves had Nigel tried and failed to bring to earth, only to watch their lives congeal in his hands like dragon's blood and slip through his fingers, out of his reach?
- #144: congeal
- Fifteen minutes.
The word should have been 'pretension.' I get zero points for writing about blood like everyone else. :p
Peach wasn't long from the castle when it occurred to her that her plan to save Mario might be a little hasty. She couldn't for the life of her remember what that elderly man told her about the umbrella, except that it had hidden power that she might find useful. But what, pray, could an umbrella possibly do that would be useful unless it rained?
She paused at an embankment and peered down nervously. Dusk was falling, and the hills were overcome with violet shadows. Heaven only knew where Bowser had taken them or how long it would be until she got there, and it was already getting dark, and if she jumped over to the other side here, was there anyone down there who could peek up her skirt? It was too dark to tell, and she was in such a hurry. What if they hurt Mario or his brother - oh, what was his name again? She never could remember.
Making up her mind, Peach ran back a few steps, then sprinted at the edge and jumped. And she would have gone on with her journey if a sudden flapping hadn't caused her to squeak and turn around.
A giggling Koopa bounced up onto the ledge, flapping its ugly wings. She lifted her skirt to run. It giggled again.
"Why, you little--!" Peach dropped her skirt and hit it as hard as she could with the umbrella. "You nasty little sneak! You pervert!" And she hit it again and again until it fell howling from the ledge. "Ooooooooh, the nerve--"
She'd stomped a flat path through the grass before she felt less anger, and a little more embarassment. At least the umbrella had been good for something.
- #145: rushed
- Seventeen minutes, about.
It certainly was rushed! =D
Back to essays. ;_;
One's greatest works would always be born from nature, Nigel believed. In the pattern of frost stealing over a blushing flower petal, the shape of a snowflake as it fluttered to rest on the frozen pavement, light as a feather and yet containing the chill promise of a long and brutal winter. God created Man from the dust of the earth, and woman again from him. She is heaven to the rough-hewn clay that gave her birth.
What then must one do to regain paradise? Not to ascend to that which waits, where the only admittance is death, but to reach up and bring it down to earth where it belongs - where it should have been all along?
Alas, he did not know. How many Eves had Nigel tried and failed to bring to earth, only to watch their lives congeal in his hands like dragon's blood and slip through his fingers, out of his reach?
- #144: congeal
- Fifteen minutes.
The word should have been 'pretension.' I get zero points for writing about blood like everyone else. :p
Peach wasn't long from the castle when it occurred to her that her plan to save Mario might be a little hasty. She couldn't for the life of her remember what that elderly man told her about the umbrella, except that it had hidden power that she might find useful. But what, pray, could an umbrella possibly do that would be useful unless it rained?
She paused at an embankment and peered down nervously. Dusk was falling, and the hills were overcome with violet shadows. Heaven only knew where Bowser had taken them or how long it would be until she got there, and it was already getting dark, and if she jumped over to the other side here, was there anyone down there who could peek up her skirt? It was too dark to tell, and she was in such a hurry. What if they hurt Mario or his brother - oh, what was his name again? She never could remember.
Making up her mind, Peach ran back a few steps, then sprinted at the edge and jumped. And she would have gone on with her journey if a sudden flapping hadn't caused her to squeak and turn around.
A giggling Koopa bounced up onto the ledge, flapping its ugly wings. She lifted her skirt to run. It giggled again.
"Why, you little--!" Peach dropped her skirt and hit it as hard as she could with the umbrella. "You nasty little sneak! You pervert!" And she hit it again and again until it fell howling from the ledge. "Ooooooooh, the nerve--"
She'd stomped a flat path through the grass before she felt less anger, and a little more embarassment. At least the umbrella had been good for something.
- #145: rushed
- Seventeen minutes, about.
It certainly was rushed! =D
Back to essays. ;_;