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© 2006 - 2020 ursulav
A chunk of a story set in the House of Red Fireflies world, which I've had half-written down for awhile, and finished up because I have a really dire case of poison ivy and when I can't sleep for the itching, writing's at least distracting. I really oughta illustrate this one, like I did the "Dream Deer" story, but the illustrating takes a lot longer than the writing...
It Was A Day
It was a day a little bit like today the way the clouds threw shadows over the hill the day you realized that you weren’t going to find your future. You were never going to go to Mars or Pern or Krynn You were never going to open the door that led, inexorably, to Narnia (or even Telmar, you weren’t picky, and you were confident of your ability to lead the revolution.) Inigo Montoya was not going to slap you on the back and invite you to take up the mantle of the Dread Pirate Roberts. There would be no sardonic Vulcans or Andorians; you would never be handed an elegant weapon for a more civilized age. That was a strange day. It
Missing in the Back of Class
The kid who sat in front of me in class was really quiet today. It's weird, because we usually talk a lot when we're both actually here at the same time. It was a weird day, because it seemed like everyone was in class. Like, all the seats were taken and that hardly ever happens. And when everyone's here, it's never really quiet at all. See, I go to a D.C. public high school, which, if you live anywhere around here, you'd know that we have an incredibly high absence rate. And even when there's like half the kids than normal in class, it's never quiet. I mean, sometimes I think you learn more not going to my school than when you actual
I've Fallen for you +part 1+
The day was closing to an end, and the first stars were winking in the darkening sky as a young man (or at least, man-shaped creature) walked away from lightened streets towards a badly-parked vintage Bentley. Crowley sighed, his breath clouding the air (not that he really needed to breathe, but habits died hard after 4 000 years or so on this planet...) as he walked towards his well-loved car. He hated the cold, really hated the cold...really hated it. He hated it more than he hated anything else in the whole history of Creation; the boring speeches of the Lower Spheres, the human race, those annoying plastic toys you got inside Rice Krispie
emotions with longer names
"Why are you holding a camera?" Her eyes flickered to look at his. She possessed no poker face—her discomfort made him smile, even now. "I don't know," replied a disembodied voice. The sound of his words made his heart beat faster, made the memories come rushing back in some horrific nightmarish image of a carnival ride. She displayed her white teeth to him in an awkward smile, the flashing red light reflected in her eyes. They weren't looking at the camera—they were looking at him. "Talk to me," he said, loving to film the shape of her face in all that silence but knowing her awkward quirks. "I don't know what to say." Her voice was quie
What a LOVELY fairy tale! I haven't read such a nice one in so long. (nice being, well thought out, well written, good, but not flakey character and a happy ending. And humor. Humor is always good.
This story is absolutly wonderful, I really hope you write more. I'd also really like to see you do a web comic about The House of the Red Fireflies. I think with your style of art and writing, it would be fantastic. Your so awesome