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The Fire (Chapter 1)This is what happened on the 29th and (most of) the 30th of June. I will upload another section tomorrow, and when the story is finished, merge it all together. I would say enjoy, but its perhaps not the best of stories.
The story begins in the early hours of the morning, on Saturday the 29th of June, 2013. I've just come back from a trip to Belgium, a school trip, and the coach has just arrived back at school. Since I have to walk home through a, let's say, sometimes unsavory town at 3 am (my mother doesn't have a car, and I can't drive...) I am accompanied by my dear mother. Walking past a stupid person who just so happened to be on the same trip, we head off home.
We talk about relativity un-interesting things, that I can't really remember, as we stroll through the neighborhood. I think I mentioned the rainbow lolly pop that I purchased there which was full of E numbers and kept me awake for part of the journey.
At home, I walked upstairs, past the kitchen (that was still fun
EightEight is a number, but it is also many other things.
It is a bar in my hometown.
And a date on the calender.
It is the asterisk symbol on the keyboard
And a symbol that appears like this: 8
There are figures of eight
People aged eight
Eight more days to go...
Eight more days until my birthday, on the 8th day of the 8th month.
My mind is missing :3Mr.iTunes was sitting at his desk. Suddenly, his 'unhappy customer' detector beeped.
He looked at it and saw something from deviantART.
It was a journal entry, by TheIrritatingPenguin.
'Bob?' He called his assistant.
'What now? Another one?'
'We may need to leave the country for a bit.'
Bob sighed. 'Again?'
Bob walked over and read the journal entry.
'That's worse than usual'
'Yeah, I know' Mr.iTunes replied.
'You know, you could actually make them happy?'
'Where's the fun in that?'
TheIrritatingPenguin sat at their desk.
They sent a message to Mr.iTunes.
'REMEMBER THIS MESSAGE, FOR IT SHALL BE YOUR LAST.
With an evil, evil, evil, evil, evil laugh, they set off...
Only 11.You know, since the series finale of Doctor Who, I've been thinking...
'How many Doctors are there?'
I've found the answer.
Now, we saw John Hurt at the end of that episode, but he isn't the Doctor. He was the one who broke the promise. There may be 12 regenerations of him...
But there are only 11 Doctors.
What ever 'he' did, we should never find out...
But I have a feeling that we might.
Preview of a tale.I traveled in time.
Once upon a time I was walking along, when I saw a portal like thing. I tripped over a banana skin and fell into it, therefore traveling in time. I knew this because I saw dinosaurs. I then woke up and realised that I wasn't dreaming.
THE ALBINO DARKNESS IS OUR LIGHTthis aint no light o the lord we're walkin in me old PETS
this is the visible darkness. this is the albino darkness ur seein in.
a k9 gift of scent cones ( for Max and BElle) rise like horns from my sleeping noggin
it is a gift from the sunny day inside the dream.
Moose Head n ExCElSiOr Hotel Trailboth in the flesh me
and in the memory..............................................................u
can safely move in line
mong the poodle featured roses
the big phantom dog thought UPAHEADANDLOOKINGBACK
felt us both to be in clean, fresh
and in tidy unopened bloods. (with eating human bone fantasy there somewhere)
like them balmy lemmon fresh spark lings
from out 1 of em washing up liquid advert
i tried to detach the mid 70's discontinued dance techs
from moose head cremation ceremony
smoke fright wig/halo rising out of head hair holes
gift ov nevergreenhousefly(Nimrod the 19th)
seems in xtc
chasing my mouse arrow across warm ice of computer screen.
words beneath ice:
google. spirit. machine. rising.
out window scene
the non evergreen trees are waving
goodbyes with last hand of leaves-till next spring then
with a parting gift of green leaf sun screen
for the albino creatures of the wood
-we re reaping shades of indigo
forms without shape
shed without a reason
scattered by the faceless gods
at times when music made no sound
For NowFor now I'll hold you in my heart while you belong to another;
For now I'll hug you daily and act like a friend and brother;
For now I'll count the days that go by that I hold in my secret;
For now I'll only tell a few that I know will keep it;
For now I'll find a way to live while I am dead inside;
For now I realize that there is nowhere I can hide;
For now I'll go on through the days, of pain and endless "fun";
You may say it's just a phase, but I choose when it's done.
Swimmingly Daze R WONT againput on UR white stilettos
and go pondward 4 the tadpoles
or take this box of black magic to the retired swan feeder in the vale
then we can watch the angelmen put the sun back in its box
radial velocitya magnitude not drawn from points;
we were made touched in the paradox zeno
once lithified agents of time, now evolved
un-hindered by soft observation
... and time manifests through instants
chasing tails at tachyon speeds
into temporal indifference
The Plight of the Gentilea hundred thousand capybara came out
of a manhole on third avenue by the river
walked up third
and over to Bronx Zoo
to liberate their cousins
and back down third down past the Bowery Ballroom
and the skeleton of CBGB
and onto the Brooklyn Bridge
I should have known:
something was coming ;
the Haredim in Williamsburg were off the streets
at business-open on a Thursday ;
I assumed it was Saturday ;
I left the house to empty streets—assumed I was hung-over ;
I hadn't slept off Friday ;
I hallucinated a guinea pig the size of a Fiat
eating my neighbour's garbage bags
and his two square feet of yard
a casual lover fucked me that night
with loud victorious abandon ;
we were dancing a lemonjuice capoeira
all kicks and burning abrasions ;
we were a jaguar and an anaconda
debating dinner plans in snaps and jumps ;
the capybaras took Prospect Park Zoo that night
liberating their ance
MeThis is me.
I am me.
I don't know what me is.
Me is me.
I don't know me.
Who am I?
I wake up.
And I think.
Well, I don't, but you don't know that.
Well, you do now.
When I feel me.
Is this life?
We are all dying, which is true but a little pessimistic.
Every second you live every time you smile every time you see anything, you get closer to dying.
We live, we die. What is the meaning of life?
To have fun, to live, to see stuff.
Oh look it's a glass, either half full or half empty.
Apparently, it tells you how you look at life.
'It depends, *GANGNAM STYLE JUST CAME ON YAY ITUNES * on whether it has been filled half way...
Or filled fully then half drank.
Why am I writing this? I got inspired by Viva la Vidi, because I love it, but my Mum says stuff about it.
Which I don't like.
And I listened to it, and I was...me
But now Gangnam has changed me.
This is gonna get a different feel. But NOW gangnam
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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