walkingriddle
"Move!" He was hitting for the brakes, but then he realized the competition was gaining ground on them. They were urging their warhorses forward, slicing through the other teams with rage.
"The third son of the third son shall be a master of the sword," the old man said. He was the seer. He was to be trusted.
Everything he had been preparing for, everything he had been sacrificing - it was all for naught. His rivals were reckless, even unplanned, and yet they were far more superior than he will ever be. He could only let out a sigh.
"Taffy? I don't know what that means." My daughter was inquisitive, naturally so. And this was just one of the many words she was learning.
The creature remained submerged in the deep waters of the lake, bidding its time until the moment when humanity succumbs to greed and lust. Only then will it rise, to cleanse the species from its degeneration.
The ant bit hard into the soft, delightful texture of the crumb. He had never tasted anything quite like it! You see, ants aren't very picky about what they eat. And so this particular ant ate the bread crumb that fell from the diseased old man's mouth.
He struck out his arm, and let loose the bolt of fury he was wielding. The other gods where stricken with fear, they knew better than to cross the supreme lord of the heavens.
The stratosphere. It is an endless horizon of sky, where the colors meet and the birds fly. It is where wishes go, and where anger is personified by lightning.
writing since 2013 · 8 entries · 8 days shown up
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antcrumbthirdsonstratosphereendlesshorizonskycolorsmeetbirdsflywishesangerpersonifiedlightning