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Brought by the Storm conclusionBrought by the Storm
The inevitable is due to happen, sometime or another.
The Assyrian Avengers girded for the inevitable confrontation, which Puabi warned Clifford about along the way. They both remained steadfast in their task. However, they had no idea then who was performing the black magic. Furthermore, the practitioners were suddenly aware that the Avengers were trailing them.
"Alors! Donald, someone is trailing us. I feel it."
Dastardly Disruptor wriggled his right pinky and it presented him with the image of the couple on the road to the town limits of the last town. They recognised Clifford Rogers immediately.
"That's scientist Clifford Rogers with his wife Puabi."
"They are looking for us."
"They are looking for the makers of the storm walker but they may not know it is us yet."
"We should meet them, no?"
"In due time, Amanda. They are not near yet. Let us summon the walker first."
Disruptor wriggled both pinkies and the storm walker awakened. However, in its wake
Week 5 prompt
The past is almost always forgotten when the present is in progress and the future is in sight. But occasionally it comes to haunt us in very curious ways.
Charlie Thompson had been engrossed in his work and leisure activities for months before this case transpired. He had been so wrapped up that anthem oriels of his past faded like his dreams. Charlie was engaged as a painter in a town for one year. Prior to that, although, as I mentioned, he had forgotten, he was a lifeguard. In his leisure, Charlie was an amateur artist. He enjoyed painting obviously.
When the case mentioned began, Charlie was enjoying his hobby but he was seeking a model. Most girls in the town were rather shy to pose for him. Then, one day, as he sat pondering how to find a model, a strange but sensuous young woman came to him. She was interested and available to pose for him. So that evening, she stripped before him. Charlie stared. She was pale like a ghost. Her features were still clear
Dictated by Puabi
Some women desire gems and pearls
Some desire silver and gold
Some desire dominion and power
But they must pause to think
Even for one second
What will they do when they grow old?
A woman ages and will deflower.
I know it well
I had all of those
Now I have only one treasure
A gentle loving man
Who gives me continuous pleasure
Brought by the Storm (page 4)Brought by the Storm
Amanda Delacroix and Donald Wakeley hurried outdoors that night to track the storm walker and send it to the next town. They found it at the spot it rested, at the opposite end of the town, after an hour. Then thy proceeded to guide it ahead on course.
In New York City, Clifford Rogers had finished a relaxing and refreshing dinner. It was one of the first meals that Puabi cooked. She was still rather shy about modern styles, and often she urged Clifford to join her in selecting clothing. The radio networks broadcasted the story of the storm walker that Puabi had seen on television the night before. She stopped eating suddenly and almost gagged on food. He patted her back carefully. When she was safe, she smiled gratefully at Clifford.
"What happened, sweetheart?"
"Clifford, that report was the same one I saw last night."
"Hmmm. That thing seems to be still at large."
"We must help those in charge."
"We will, indeed. Let us go quickly."
Clifford found his par
The World's a StageThe World's a Stage
For Chris Topham
All the world's a stage, we are players
Though who may say what acts we play
Curtain is up and we must perform our parts
Some will do the strangest things
Some perform straight from their hearts
I do what I can as a sincere man
Because I want to care
So, on this note, I just want to say
Today is a special day
Be happy, be healthy, be good
Brought by the Storm (page3)Brought by the Storm
With the calm in the weather, the town rested until dawn. The following day, the residents emerged to resume activities and some discovered the wreckage or fragments of wreckage en route to work or taking kids to school. However, the storm walker was still undiscovered. In fact, he orbit re-emerged at town limits, in the opposite direction of the strangers. The walker was about 8 feet tall, erect like a humanoid but had no physical structure similar to ours. It's form was mostly energy, electrical and psychic energy, that bundled into a visible shape. The eyes were merely apertures through which the energy concentrated and guided the form. I cannot say that it saw anything. It's path of destruction decried lack of sight. As it moved, it both attracted and discharged electrical energy. What it hit was immediately damaged, much like a huge bolt of lightning would do.
During the day, the energy of the walker was lower; so, it found a place to repose and await i
The Ideal ManThe Ideal Man
Dictated by Puabi
What kind of man is the ideal man?
Every woman alive wants to know.
For Puabi, he will stay sound and safe.
He will never go on long hard campaigns
To fight in foreign lands.
He will never try to make her cry.
He will dry her tears carefully when she cries.
He will embrace her warmly in his arms
And vow to love her forever.
What to say, what to do, when she meets him?
"Oh, my beloved, I love you now and forever!"
Brought by the Storm (page2)Brought by the Storm
Failing to find either the storm walker or a valid witness, the councilors returned to the spot where they found the original witness and intended to release him; but he had vanished. They agreed to return home and forget about everything.
The reading room of Clifford Rogers
In his reading room in New York, archaeologist Clifford Rogers was studying a text given to him at his office in Smithsonian Institute, Washington, D.C. He was thoroughly engrossed in it until his young and charming wife and aide Puabi entered. She had been looking for him.
"Clifford! Beloved, there was a strange report on the television tonight."
"What was it about, darling," he asked, looking up into her small, tender face.
"Some town outside had a sudden storm. But moreover something strange emerged from the storm and apparently rampaged. Nobody was hurt but hardly anyone noticed."
"Hmmmm. You're right, darling. That sounds very odd indeed."
"Will we investigate it?"
"Only if they sum
The TomeThe Tome
Once upon a night so stormy
Which the rain fall seemed abnormal
And I had to remain indoors
I headed for my shelves of books
And down from them a tome I took
With many a detail from times of yore
It was garbed in dusky leather
And seemed to have been affected by the weather
So that I could barely read its lore
Upon the frontispiece of that tome I saw
A grimace I shall forget no more
And among its many dusty pages
Whose ink seemed to be erased by ages
I could make out some words there
At the bottom of the page was written
a strange and alien inscription
Which spoke of a forgotten place called R'yleh
What the queer phrase had said
Was that a fabled creature lay asleep or dead
In that strange and mystic place called R'yleh
Cthulhu R'yleh wgalnagh ftagn
The MessageBefore the escape
In preparation for that night’s activities, Mike locked himself in his lab and sat down at his desk. He adjusted the collar of his lab coat and surreptitiously triggered the remote he’d sewn into the collar. It sent out a burst signal that activated devices attached to the cameras in the lab. Anybody watching the cameras would see him at his bench, working on MIMIC.
Mike rubbed his eyes a few times and then ran his hands down his face to scratch his beard. He’d been planning this for much longer than he’d told Julius because he knew Julius would not be able to keep the plan secret for more than a day or two. So he’d had time to come to grips with the fact that he’d most likely be dead before the day was through. But, he consoled himself with the fact that his contributions to the world would live on in MIMIC.
He turned on the camera that sat next to his computer, straightened his hair, and then hit Record.
A Sympathetic Harmony"Let go of her!" a voice demanded, and the girl, pinned against the wall by a burly, stupid looking man, spit blood on to the tunnel floor.
"Ah was just gettin' started," the stupid man said. She smiled at him through bloody teeth.
"Put her down, oaf," the other man demanded. "Anses will kill you if she can't play."
"He'd do more than that," the girl said. "He'd flay your skin one strip at a time and piss on the pulp, lie he did to the Ghost Regent Reksos."
The oaf grunted and let her go. She stumbled forward and caught herself on the opposite wall. She licked blood off her teeth, and she started singing.
"Can't help him now, can't save his face, can only breathe in for one more taste." The oaf stared at her intensely. "Can't help him now, no, he's a little too late, kept up the facade, but this was fucking fate." The oaf was frozen when she stopped. She lifted her arms and he mimicked her stiffly. "Can't help him now," she muttered, and twisted her hands. The oaf fell to the ground.
Into the End So, this was what a straitjacket felt like. It’d been something he’d thought about once in a while; simple curiosity after seeing it in a movie or reading about it in a book. Not too comfortable. What’d he done to deserve this? His mind erased itself each time he tried too hard to remember. Surely it was something huge; Evan didn’t even know they used those anymore.
Two pairs of hands, both stronger than his will to flee, forced him down a dim white corridor. “Everything’s going to be okay, buddy,” he heard a man’s voice behind him. “You’re gonna’ be just fine.”
Idiotic banter. What the hell did he know about Evan? Nothing. Nobody understood his plight and the struggles he suffered through. No one ever noticed the bruises, the burns or the cuts. Misguided. Views of people who didn’t care enough to look deeper. Maybe he should so
What if: the unicorn was real?What if the unicorn was real?
Let us first figure out which unicorn we are talking about. There is the Kirin (or the Quilin) from the Far East – a strange creature, looking like a dragon or a chimera than a unicorn. There are the karkadann, the al-miraj, the shadhavar, even the sirrush of Middle East – all dangerous, unpredictable creatures, all armed with a single horn. There was the sea unicorn (also called the campuchurch). And then there is the unicorn of Europe – the white horse-like creature with a single horn, a beard, cloven hooves, and a gentle (at least towards virgins) disposition, a wondrous yet imaginary creature.
The unicorn was a mythical beast that could be found only in the realm of imagination... and it had dwelled there since the antique times, as it was the ancient Greeks, who introduced the unicorn to the West in their natural history works. Fair enough. But if the unicorn was real, what it would be like?
The European unicorn lived in the forests
FFM 2014: Anything is Possible“We’re heroes now,” Caitlin laughs, flopping down onto the grass.
Summer has finally arrived, and they are becoming something larger than themselves.
There’ll be no flapping capes, no masks, this isn’t a comic book. But there out to be a reason for their powers, and with no answers forthcoming they’re happy enough to make one for themselves.
“Heroes,” He whispers, and the world’s a little brighter for the thought.
“I am not myself,” Jason says, flattening his hand against the glass.
“No, you aren’t,” says the First, his other self.
“But I am,” says Five.
“And we are,” Fourteen concurs.
Madness was his first thought, but the reality is much worse. One self for every death. If only he’d known this would be the final cost.
“Get out,” He begs them, but it’s too late for that now.
“We were supposed to fix the world,”
The ThreeThe Third let out a sad sigh as she stared down at the vast expanse that was their project, her ethereal figure slouching in a manner unfitting for such an elegant being. It had hurt every time she had to watch an aeon of evolution destroyed, but this time it was different; this was by far her favourite aeon.
She found the humans fascinating, the intelligence they showed right from the early Neanderthal era was intriguing. They had an uncanny ability to adapt to their ever changing surroundings, no matter how harsh, which she accounted to their fierce survival instincts; even to a superior being such as herself, it was inspiring.
This made knowing the human race's end was almost upon them all the harder to swallow. She had been sure that this woman had been the one, the one that could turn the tide and put an end to his relentless pursuit of revenge.
Even without knowing what she was fighting, she came so close to achieving the impossible. If only she’d had the support, th
FFM 29: The Beginning of the End< 07-08-3108 0800:00PST // Executing Scheduled Archive Process… >
< 07-08-3108 0800:00PST // Recovering Video Logs… >
< 07-08-3108 0800:00PST // Data Loss Detected… Reviewing Saved Data… >
< 05-21-3108 0614:27PST >
Ahem. Herbert Marshall, ID number 107a, logging on. Personal log entry one. Day one of the Cauffield Experiment, sixty days remaining until I get to see sunlight again. It’s for the best, of course: if the Virus were to reach the surface… well, I don--it can’t.
< Data Loss >
--brought Nanashi with me, though. I set up her litter box in the bathroom of my quarters, and brought lots of treats. I think she’ll adjust fine--
< Data Loss >
< 05-27-3108 0601:12PST >
Day seven of the Cauffield Experiment, and already great progress. First few days were rough, but the old boys club is starting to recognize that I’m not “just a jack-ass out of college.” The o
Too Tired to Care In the hall, things lost their ominous aura, whether from the light in the living room or the realization that she’d totally gotten off the hook—something which rarely occurred. Sindri sauntered into the living room to see a limp body collapsed against the dining table, its back and chest methodically rising and falling.
“Geez,” she mumbled. “How the hell can you fall asleep through all that?” Her finger stabbed into the flesh of his back. He didn’t budge. She swept past Evan’s makeshift bed to the actual mattress. She buried her fingers in the soft fabrics of the outer blanket and drew it down. “What do you think I am?” she said, not truly concerned if he heard her. “Your personal pack mule?”
Sindri moved back to him and carefully pulled his head off of the table. When he refused to respond, she sighed, scooped her hands under his armpits and began to drag. The furniture g
FFM 2014 26 - Radio ContactOne nuclear war later, and the Earth is a barren rock. The astronauts aboard the International Space Station saw it happen, but my post was on the moon. I couldn't even maintain radio contact while it was going on. As the bombs dropped, I sat in eerie silence. I didn't read, I couldn't. I didn't listen to music, I didn't want to.
So I sat in the middle of the floor in my tiny moon office and waited, rocking back and forth; completely naked and hugging my knees.
Then time seemed to stop passing. I was rotating back into view of Earth and radio contact with the ISS. I didn't want to be naked, even over the radio.
I owned business suits, plaid skirts, jeans, even regular t-shirts. I settled on the professional white button-up under black vest over black dress pants. The world doesn't end every day.
I turned on my radio and was greeted by the sound of fading static. I sat at my desk and waited for the connection to be perfect, idly playing with my nameplate. Mal, it sai
M.A.R.S. Invasion Page 4The cool heavy rain eventually revived Panther Girl, who stared at the storm too. A few moments after she had revived, the storm had worsened. Panther Girl had attempted to remember cases in which a storm had erupted, but most cases had involved either an Old One or Miskatonic University. The storm raged for almost two hours and immobilized everyone there. Meanwhile, Professor Harnosette grew impatient and restless. He ordered a small carrier [which had been stolen from a local transporter] and headed for the museum grounds along with two assistants.
As the storm finally abated, the carrier arrived and Harnosette and his lackeys alighted. He was astonished at the scene. The lawn outside the main doors of the museum had become a virtual swamp.
"'Odds bodkins!" as Shakespeare had it. The British Museum is in a swamp! Hardwick, hand over the stone at once!"
"I am trying, Professor!"
"Merton! Sedgwick! Go and help him. Hurry!"
"At once, Professor."
Whilst the two assistants joined Ha
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