Tanglewood

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On the southernmost fringe of the tanglewood forest, beyond the kingdoms of men, in the midst of a purgatorial wasteland blighted with perpetual winter and savaged by endless storms, there stands an inn where the battle-lines between sanity and madness meet. Here, where soul-consuming demons walk freely as men, where nightmares parade their garish hues like common whores of the street, where only the boldest or the most benighted seek to tread, our story is enacted. Image from here.   Focus on your writing while you make money using the video poker dictionary , video poker software , video poker …

The Mistman @ Byzarium

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My story the Mistman just went live at Byzarium! “There was a village in the mountains at the top of the world that was always shrouded in mist. Its name was Ballahee, and in it lived a small community of people, good people, who tended to their crops on the mountainsides, and looked after their sheep and their hardy goats. The villagers had many problems, such as the cold winters and the wolves in the scrub-woods, but by far their biggest problem was the mist. The mist had always been there, and the villagers knew there was nothing they could …

Flatland

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At the center of Flatland there was a tall sky-scraper, thirty stories high. In the skyscraper were many offices, filled with workers who spent their days typing at their ledgers, recording the business of Flatland that they could see out of their windows. After their work was finished every day, they left the skyscraper and went to their homes. They lived in houses and farms spread around the town-†the only town in Flatland. Flatland was not very big. Perhaps as big as six†football fields. Fotheringay, the CEO of the skyscraper in the center of Flatland, lived on the thirtieth floor. …

Sagasu’s Life

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Sagasu was watching the child in the corner. The corner was dark, and the child was dark. Its mouth was open, always. Sagasu was grinding butterfly’s wings. He was mixing them with chalk dust and melted ox fat. He used a pestle and mortar and he ground them so the smell of ivory burning filled the air, and he clicked his teeth and sometimes he spat into the paste. He shaved a hammer and dropped the fine iron filings into the mixtures. He poured them out into a dimpled tray of eight metal cups, each as big as an egg, …