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Battle of Wits
"Haha, I've got you this time, Yahweh!" The young man crowed as he rounded the corner of the garden path. Like always, his robes were slightly askew, revealing more of his muscular form than was necessary. Though he tried, he couldn't keep the excited expression from his handsome face.
"What is it now, Lucifer?" Asked Yahweh. He didn't move from where he sat, head bowed, eyes closed, white hair flowing gracefully around him. "You have disturbed my meditation once again, and for one of your silly extended metaphors, no less."
"I know, Yahweh, I know," Lucifer replied, his words fraught with frustration as he sat beside his master in the flowers. "I just couldn't contain myself any longer!"
"You and I both know why it is you try to best me." He raised a hand before Lucifer could protest. "I also know that I will get no peace unless I hear you out. So, lets have it; let me hear yo
"So, tell me again, how long have we been on our own?" Sumettai asked, already knowing the answer, her words were merely the catalyst for a ritual born of long practice.
Though she usually answered right away, Aisuna lingered in what she was doing this day. The wind caught at her heavy green gown and wrapped it around her thin and delicate form as she stood. The small squirrel she had been treating for a stomach ache bounded away, healed. "We've been on our own for years, but it seems like an eternity." Truthfully, she'd never really gotten used to the solitude. Before, Aisuna had always had Korimah or Shimona to talk to, and she was never lonely. Not that she was lonely here with Sumy. Its just that after the war she couldn't find he sibling, no matter how hard she searched. "I came here with you to rest after the war and to think of where we should search next for Korimah. That was almost ten year
Goldy-Chick and da Three Dawgs
One day down in the hood, there were three dawgs chowin' down on some gruel. So Pimp Daddy says, "Like my gruel is way too steamed." And Big Mama was like, "This *bleep* is way too hot." So they uppin' went for a pimp ride to the ghetto. So like later, this Goldy-chick came and was cleanin' out the crib. She saw the gruel and was like, "I'm starved, I'm gonna eat me some." She tried Pimp Daddy's and was like, "This *bleep* is way too hot." She ate some of Big Mama's and was like, "This *bleep*'s like freezing." Then Goldy-chick tried Lil' Dawgs and was like, "This *bleep* is Phat!" And she ate like all of it. Then she went to the den and tried the chairs. Pimp Daddy's was like too hard, and Big Mama's was like too soft. Then she tried Lil' Dawg's and was like, "This *bleep*'s da bomb, fo' sho!" But then the chair busted landing her flat on her butt. "*Bleep*, and that was comfy too."
Then she like went up the stair and was like, "Now this is a place to crash." She tried Pimp Daddy's be
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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