The bleak slate cloud is pierced by the morning sun, illuminating and pinning us in Claire’s happy kitchen. Swirling motes of dust cocoon us in the warmth,

The man with one leg dog by his side dirty jean thread a dog with one leg

What do YOU think?

Affinity Uncontrollable, catalytic, the last ingredient – light, too often diluted in forty shades of grey or in tsunami waves bleaching all.

Morning, Corday the 9th of Tanot, 674 AG (After Godswar) Several miles outside of the village of Benbridge, home to the Toshiko's At just over 6ft in height, Yamasaka Jiro was a powerfully built man that rode his horse with confidence. His black hair was tied back into a ponytail that reached down to the base of his neck.

16:22 June 19th, 2049 200m below Sector 23 Toby woke with a pounding headache. With a ringing in his ears he cracked open an eye and looked around.

You spend the time to write a story. Or a poem. What really is the diffrence between a story or a poem. I truly don't know. I do know that most poetry makes no sense.