A Nice Wash Between the Ears by willwriteforhearts, literature
Literature
A Nice Wash Between the Ears
The first time she suspected something wasn’t when Daddy told her not to care about mothers, or her arm snapped and her brain turned off like a light switch, or the time she found the “Family AI Inc.” card under his bed when she was cleaning his room. No. There was always an explanation waiting for her around the corner. She did not suspect. She did not care to. She did not want to. She did not need to.
The day she found the business card, she tossed it into the trash incinerator, got a lollipop from the hospital-esque jar on the kitchen counter, and went off to meet her new tutor in Daddy’s private zoo. She was seven
Each Separate Dying Ember - I by Just-Raowolf, literature
Literature
Each Separate Dying Ember - I
Daneel
I see the boy that I shot a week later.
He's standing, leaning casually against the sheer grey stone wall of a building, and he doesn't see me - or if he does, he doesn't recognise me. He's talking to someone, another man, grinning - a wicked slash of the lips with a little too much sharp teeth. Automatically, I press my body against Kran's - he glances down at me, but he doesn't seem to realise why I'm doing it. He thinks I'm just afraid of the Short-Wings; as my hand goes to find his, he puts his arm around my shoulder and, giving a short low laugh, tousles my hair a little.
"Naw, Dany, don't tell me you still 'fraid o' them? You al
The sunset infiltrated the stormy sky like bloody hands of fierce soldiers that Adrian and Thuy had just been a few minutes ago. A hollow autumn breeze heaved with decay in its breath as the air grew warm with the metallic stench of drying blood and cold corpses, parts severed, mutilated, strewn like debris amongst jagged rocks, broken weapons, fellow men who were lucky to die in one, dignified piece. The fervid screams of combat had died down to a sickening dead silence.
Thuy’s hand, scarred and wrapped in ragged bits of cloth from her commander’s cloak, clenched the splinted wooden stake on which the flag, once bearing the
“It’s been floating around the science community for years,” he said, pushing up his glasses feverishly. “There’s more to this idea than we think. We need to stop dismissing it as mere fiction. There is some reasoning behind it,” he said, nodding his head animatedly. Whenever he spoke about science, the unknown, his eyes lit up with a certain passion that his young daughter had always admired. His curious nature, the way he pushed his glasses frantically when he was excited, his determination: she loved all of it.
At the young age of eleven, she knew it impolite to eavesdrop, especially on her fathe
It feels like I have been living in a dream for long time.
Life for me, this state of being, it’s like the longest dream; I have no wrinkles to count the years that have gone by, or companions, or even an aging world. Of course, the forest changes, but it’s so hard to tell. Plants grow and trees grow but it always looks young.
I have been alone since the time my memory began.
The mother bear moans again; sickness having blinded her, she searches with her nose until she can feel the soft bodies of her children crowding around her side on the ground. Her limbs are heavy. Her spirit dips in and out of her mortal form.
She glances
Everything about Mai was perfect: a healthy roundness in her whitened face estranged from the harsh labour in the scorching sun, and hair as black as calligraphy ink, Mai caught the eye of a young lord of 25 years when she was 14. After her marriage in silk and gold, her undoubtable beauty was compounded with an even more undoubtable 5-star efficiency as a tea maker and baby factory: she bore 12 bouncing boys—Without a wrinkle on her face!
Her secret ingredient to such miraculous domestic performance was Silence. The less she said, the more she obeyed and the more that was completed. The glossed colours on her porcelain face remained i
Trial of the Kaliziama by Just-Raowolf, literature
Literature
Trial of the Kaliziama
"I will not see him - tell him I will not see him!"
"He is very insistent, mahod - I do not think--"
"Do not allow him into the House of Hatyārā - is that understood?"
"I... Yes, mahod."
"Good. Go; send him away."
As the Shudra backed out of the room hurriedly, bowing so deeply that the loose end of his turban brushed the sandy marble of the floor, the young man took three slow steps backward, up the shallow steps that made a slight podium at the back of the room, then allowed himself to fall slowly backwards onto the ornate, throne-like chair there. Eyes distant and unseeing, he rubbed his jaw slowly, mouth opening a little as if i
Scene 1 - life in the wild
In the green mountains two giant dragons rest in a clearing beside a stream. The small town of Pebume can be seen built into the mountain side lower down. One dragon lifts his head and AYAME and AIDAN jump from the trees and begin to kill them by sliding under the dragon and slicing through the pale soft spot on the underside of the creature's belly. The pair make quick work with their silver swords. Aidan's head bleeds where the bull caught him and Ayame ties a strip of cloth above a wound on her lower leg. The pair clean their swords and begin to collect the pelts, golden teeth and golden claws of their quarries.
She sat in the remnants of her old bedroom, previously her pastel pink space where she could jump with delight over a date, invite her special friends to tell secrets, or just fall into bed and weep abundantly. All had now become a grey vast emptiness disturbed only by the faded paint that had peeled into ragged stripes. A disarrayed tangle of hair scuttled across the hard stone floor that had once been dressed in cotton quilt magenta carpet, gathering bits of dust and flaking paint as it rolled aimlessly on. As the room seemed to inhale a cold breeze into its damaged lungs, the girl hunched over, rubbing her shoulders with bony fingers that