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The heat was choking. As waves rose up from the pavement outside the house the sound continued. Thock, thock.....thock. Priscilla pulled herself from the couch and stumbled to the open door. All the doors and windows were open to let some breeze in. She wiped the sweat from her eyes and squinted out into the yard. Her fist landed again. As the sun's rays bore down on her and the full force of the heat hampered her breaths, it did nothing to stifle her rage.  Thock...THOCK... "Marie stop that already!" Priscilla called as she continued to fan herself with her little pamphlet. Her sister had been raggedly attacking the old grapefruit tr

Sometimes I can face you Sometimes I just need to cry Sometimes I'm okay And sometimes I just want to die Sometimes we are men And sometimes we are only boys Sometimes we have souls And sometimes we don't have a choice Maybe when You're older You'll reflect on what I've said. Maybe when You're older Someone tells you we are dead. Maybe I did kill her Maybe I was always wrong Maybe You'll remember When you have to hear this song. Maybe when we suffer We are really just fine Maybe someday soon There will be a Palestine. Maybe you'll remember So you won't make these mistakes One day we will love And it won't have to be fa

Buck wiped his dewy brow with his silk handkerchief. How had he let himself be talked into this? "C'mon you old blob! We've gotta thumb our noses to these control freaks soon before we lose the chance!" The boisterous woman said, grinning at him. He snorted. "Well, I always respect a woman with moxy. Alright dawlin' you've got me." And with that he took the pilot's invitation and entered her personal bathysphere. Oh yeah. Although, as of yet there really was no reason for him to be panicking. It was a smooth and enjoyable ride. This woman did indeed have talent, and apparently paid no heed to expense. Buck looked at a few of the personal m

William is dressed casually, a t-shirt and some worn looking jeans. He isn’t wearing any shoes. In the start, he is seen throwing something (a tissue) into a waste bin as he walks over, then looks up at the camera. William: Are you taping again? Come on… He smiles a little as he moves and sits down. He is seated like Mary, he is facing the window but his side profile can be seen by the camera. He is looking happily out the window. William: Ah, Africa. …The Cradle! It’s marvelous, isn’t it? Seventy years ago, this was where it all started, and it’s still here. That place…those flowers blooming so…perf

In Albion there are all manner of people. Some are big, some are small. Some are rich, some go without. There will always be many people in Albion. In Bowerstone, a large city within Albion, there is also many a manner of people, but not many groups. There are those that have, those that have opportunity, and those that simply have not. The Princess of Albion, and in extension ruler over Bowerstone, is one who has. She has a kingdom, she has power and most importantly she has a full stomach. The entrepreneur Reaver is one who has opportunity; the opportunity to make money, the opportunity to steal the lives of others, many opportunities.

Having woken up late that morning, Lebanon washed his hair quickly in the sink before grabbing some pita bread and heading out the door. It was early morning, a little after eight, and he needed to get to the "Nations's Building" for talks. He honestly wasn't sure though why the anthropomorphic Nations bothered with these talks; the human-Nation theory had never been proven either way (do the actions and thoughts of humans effect Nations or do the actions and thoughts of Nations affect humans or could it be both or even neither?) so these talks seemed rather futile. Still though, the rather short Nation supposed as he ran a hand through his s

Thomas could only rush along uselessly up the slope, as fast as his smooth metal feet would carry him on the constantly shifting, sliding ground. He still wasn't used to walking on dirt and gravel but the urgency pushed him onward. "HELP! Please help!" He began screaming in his robotic dialect in a panic before switching over to the Crescendoan dialect as two or three people approached him. "What is wrong, Silver Golem? Did you and your friend get attacked by animals?" One of the green people asked. His mask flickered the foreign characters. "We were just done swimming, getting ready to return here when Félicité collapsed!" In hi

"Thank you for the soup, Xavier." Father Gaspard sat happily at his desk, the fan in the corner whirring rather loudly, as he spooned up his lunch. His friend and coworker sat across from him, one foot over his knee, smiling. "It's no problem. I know it's Friday." The other said, nodding. The only meat Gaspard ate on Fridays was from the sea. He glanced outside as he spoke, marveling at the heat waves coming off of the ground. In the biting cold Russia, Pepsi was sold on the streets lukewarm; Xavier had brought his friend some soup chilled. Normally chilly clam chowder would sound disgusting but living in the heat these men had to tolerate m

"As the Lord takes you now, know that you will be with us in our hearts forever. Know that though you died in war you did not die in vain, you will never be forgotten and our love for you will never weaken." The somber man placed his hands onto one of the coffins before him. "Arian Dione." He walked before his congregation, over to the next coffin. "Russel Allen." Onto the next. "Daniel Lopatin." And the next…"Xavier de Rosnay." And the man continued with his unloved task, saying the final blessing to the most recently lost soldiers. All of his people before him wore black and wept quietly. He looked on at the small photo next to him, t