"It is elementary, my dear Watson. These french fried potatoes and this substance in the guise of meat is questionable at best."
It was that sentence that alerted me to yet another of my friend's escapades. I merely attempted to dissuade him to simply never visit this restaurant called McDonald's again in the future. Alas, it was to no avail. I suppose that I stepped into such punishment by wanting something cheap to eat while on our way home to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes' enthusiasm was that of one in queue to get a tooth extracted.
As it was, this restaurant did not seem to fit London whatsoever. It certainly brought intrigue to people
It is said that a parent's love reaches to the ends of the Earth. For one father, there were times when he wished his love had a limit. His true name was not known by many, but from the rare few that he did make a brief acquaintance with, they had dubbed him The Faceless One. He had never felt scandalized by the name for he was the last of a magical race whose signature trait was the lack of a true face. A seclusive species who preferred to shy away from outside contact. He told his name to no one for he was much of a hermit even to his fellows.
It remained so until he breached their code of conduct in the final days of his species' existenc
It was an average sparring match. Kyroh was once again 'training' Oraan to someday earn his Totem Piece. All Oraan believed was that the dark green nymph was gloating and showing off his awesome Phyre Blades attack.
'He always finds ways to rub it in my face.' the cyan nymph scoffed to himself. Kyroh loved to brag about it on a daily basis as well. He'd even hint at it in conversations with Meeza knowing Oraan was around.
'Well, there's no one else whose butt I can kick.' Oraan encouraged himself as he dodged a roundhouse kick and countered with a quick jab which connected with Kyroh's cheek. His childhood friend was good at heart, but had
A/N: A (very) short Christmas story starring my adopted OCs Anya and Anri.
"Anya? What is the point of Christmas if Santa isn't real?" the small blonde girl questioned the brunette teenager.
That question alone had blossomed the cunning Anya's quest. Her young 8 year old friend wouldn't rest until she had solved the mystery of Old Saint Nick.
Even though Anri was just a child, she was intelligent for her age and always questioned the adults' generic explanations in her mind.
That was one thing that Anya loved about Anri. Her curiosity fed her mischief.
Anya never cared for dressing up as a mascot, but she knew a simpler way t
Tell me more about the moon.
Teach me about the stars
Why do we wish on them
when they are so far?
The stars are made of crystal
and the moon is made of glass.
And they may grant your wishes
if you humble yourself to ask.
There is a great something
and a great nothing out there.
But finding a place to see this majesty
has become increasingly rare.
As city swallows country,
we cannot see past the street lights
and the stars go missing as the moon grows pale
and we may never again see the black of night.
So, dream of the stars and moon.
For it may be the only chance you can see.
And in this impermanent world,
something permanent is rare to
You tick-tack on your keyboard
the world at your fingertips.
You sail on oceans of information
Accessed with just a few clicks.
You plug in your headphones
and away you are taken
on a melody from far off shores
or an adventure podcast about lands, shaken
Technology need not be demonized
it was created by us, after all
It should be a level field
but it more resembles a wall
There are those that are high
and others are lower
some climb to dizzying heights
only to fall into the bottom drawer
But it is humans, not technology
that, for this, is to blame
but this same system has existed for years
has evolved but still remains the same
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