Medusa's Savior"How are you able to stand looking at me?" This was the first question that he had ever heard from her; actually, it was the first that she had actually spoken to him. The first time he ever heard her vocalize was that fateful night he stumbled into her den. Quite literally actually.More Like This
It was towards nightfall when he first met her. The only way he was able to know this was the heat of the sun wasn't hitting him as hard as it did during midday. Tap, tap when his stick when suddenly he felt nothing under his guide. He stopped short, trying to find where the ground went. That was when he heard the hissing. He froze. A scream rent the air; startled, he stepped back and tripped over a tree root. The hissing continued. If there was one thing that made his uneasy, it was snakes. It wasn't because of what they could do to him, but it was what he would end up of doing to them. He couldn't see them he could see much of anything really. All that he could see was vague shapes and areas of ligh
Medusa and the Blind ManThere was a man a wandering soulMore Like This
Who walked contented alone
Eyes clouded with experience
But grievances, he had none
"For I'm as free as one can be
And calmly I pace my miles.
No horrors on earth anymore to see
And all vain hope beguiled."
When as in myth this man once brace
Walked upon the gorgon's lair,
With fierce eyes, no mask disguised
Her many writhing hair
But he eyes dim held out a hand
And beckoned closer monster fair
And she, for he, at once confused
Took flight and left him there.
And so the man did find a stone
To sit and rest a time
With salted meat and water skin
Then swore he heard a sigh
For Gorgon watched though from afar
But made no sense of living man
Thus curious, she did descend,
And hoarsely she began.
"Where came you from with mortal flesh,
And blood that cannot freeze,
Having calloused hands and roaming clothes
With rips upon your knees!
You look at me and do not still
Not strike me where I stand,
But sit with untiring c
DiscoveryIt was so dark down here. Mori and his friends had found caves before; gleefully exploring the little crags in the earth that swallowed up the light. Wet and dark, full of strange insects and flying things. None had ever been as large or still as this. Now they clung to his robe like children as the walls of rock stretched high above, the flame of the single torch and candle barely illuminating the ceilings. Passages stretched on into the darkness, threatening to consume them all.More Like This
This expedition was the longest and most desperate. It had been many days since they arrived, or at least, they thought it had been. It was impossible to tell in the endless black. They were running out of food and water. Soon they would start fighting each other over the precious resources.
This cave was strange. It was quiet and still and dry. No echo of dripping water or scurry of little beetles or swoop of leathery wings.
The group stops at a split in the passage for a break. Mori passes around rations of
VI: Conspiracy So far, Zim had turned out the pockets of six pairs of jeans, and shaken out three socks and four shirts. He had nothing to show for it except for a gum wrapper and a dead mouse that had just fallen out of the shoe he was holding. Cringing with disgust, Zim nudged the mouse as far away from himself as he could with the boot it had fallen out of, thankful that it hadn't tumbled into his lap, then put the shoe off to the side with its mate and the pile of clothes he had folded next to him.More Like This
Crawling into the closet to drag out a cardboard box revealed dust, a marble, and a tiny plastic building block, which Zim found with his knee. Digging through said box yielded more marbles and plastic building blocks, a posable toy robot emblazoned with a ridiculous flame design, a plastic horse, a handful of broken colored pencils and crayons, a broken airplane, and a.... thing. Finding nothing of use, save for the knowledge that Dib had weird-ass taste in toys, he hauled out the remaining boxes. The
V: UmbrellaThe street was, for lack of a better word, as normal as any other in the neighborhood. Well maintained sidewalks led past almost-manicured lawns of dead grass to houses whose owners could afford to keep the paint from peeling. Not for the first time, Zim noticed that Dib lived on the nicer side of town. The kind of place where people who had lots of money, but didn't care to flaunt it lived. The houses were modest and always clean. Neighborhood committees made sure everyone mowed their lawns and no one painted their front door purple. Pricey cars were kept in garages.More Like This
A distant flash of lightning dimly lit the clouds above, closely followed by a rumble of thunder that seemed to make the rain fall harder. As he trudged up the street, Zim idly wondered why it was that the Professor didn't choose to live in a more pretentious area. It certainly wasn't a question of money.
A sudden gust of wind forced him from his thoughts as he fought to keep possession of his umbrella. It pulled and jerk
IV: RainZim peered into his Cheese Doodle bag and found that it was empty. With a small noise of contempt, he flung it away and didn't watch as it drifted slowly to the floor, crinkling in protest.More Like This
Flashback over, he shifted in his chair, trying to work the stiffness out of his legs. After several minutes of listening to the buzz of a dying light and staring at the monitors without actually seeing what was on them, he flung the blankets away and dove for the file that was lying on the console in front of him.
He hesitated for a moment, staring, then tore open and glared at the contents as though his anger would change what was inside. What was inside made little sense.
It was a report that the computer had compiled for him. After Dib's disappearance when it became apparent that the boy would not be returning anytime soon, Zim's infamous Irken curiosity got the better of him and he began looking for clues as to why the boy had left, where he was going, and if possible, when he would be likely t
I: Of Cheese Doodles and Pickle JarsEvery war when it comes, or before it comes, is represented not as a war but as an act of self-defense against a homicidal maniac.More Like This
So it begins.
It was not a dark and stormy night. It was dark because it was, like, yknow, night. But it wasnt stormy. Just ridiculously cold. Forty-two degrees. In September. Nope, not a single cloud, but forty-two degrees in September. In the beginning of September. Whoever controlled the weather needed to be