The following presents the findings of a decidedly unserious investigation into suspiciously futuristic historical figures.
Random drabbles, heartfelt rambles, and the occasional splash of chaos from a teen with too many thoughts and not enough time.
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“Gross’’I looked up in mild annoyance. “You can’t just say that’’.“But it’s gross’’He had a point.The alien; indeed, this was first contact, stumbled out of its ship in a horrifyingly ungainly shuffle
Fear, passion; joy, jealousyteeth gnashing, jaws snapping ''Please tie your hair properly'' Feet stomping, hearts shriekingwild dreams and untold legacies ''Sit like a lady'' Ambitions drawn,
A week ago, stumbling about forlornly within the deepest abysses of summer-vacation-induced monotony, I found my battered old copy of Ian Shaw's 'The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt'. Thus was born
Glinting slashes of white bone,Velvet dark of the unknown. An agile pounce, a booming roar,Blood seeps into the undergrowth. Blood-soaked earththe ichor of life Apollo’s wrath, muffled by storm.A shadow dispersed,A silence born.
The many divots and indents upon its body of glass twinkle like the stained windows of a cathedral at night, devoid of colour. Stains that smell like the twinkling of an old piano in a dusty library. A smell that coats the hollows of your bones, like...
