Glad you could join us for the next rebellious episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
Sometimes you must go back to catch up.She who is unnamed.
“How could anyone be so barbaric?” Cassandra and Arturo had helped his family cleanse their nest, and were once more on their way to Fen.
Arturo shrugged. “Spike was angry and bitter. It’s no excuse, but all he wanted to do was cause as much pain as he felt. D’Arc — well, he’s cold evil. He actually enjoys terrorizing and killing. When the leaders of a group are like that, they get two kinds of followers: people who feel the same way they do, and people who are afraid they’ll be the next victims.”
“They’re bullies,” Cassandra insisted. “We need to stand up to them.”
“That’s what my parents did. Look how that turned out.”
Glad you could join us for the next mystical episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
The vision imploded to a whirling point of light, spiraling a widening hole into the ground, spraying soil to the sky, vanishing with Cassandra’s voice. Elliot was back in the nighttime woods reclined against the fan shaped fungus, the taste of dirt and mold in his mouth. Every muscle ached.
“What did Queen Reishi show you?” The words fell from the trees.
Startled, Elliot looked up to see the orange-eyed creature smiling down at him.
Glad you could join us for the next trippy episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
Following a golden line threading its way through leafy trees and brambled bushes wasn’t as easy in his altered state as Elliot had anticipated. Sometimes the light seemed alive and beckoning. Then it might taunt him by vanishing down a burrowed tunnel to shoot into the sky several yards away as the barely visible trail of a manic firefly, only to fall into a puddle or pool like a disillusioned star. (It was impossible for him to tell which it was, pool or puddle, or even if there really was a body of water there at all.)
The minutes stretched to hours, the hours to days, and the days to years that lasted only seconds. I’ve been here forever, he thought. Why hasn’t the sun come up?
Is there anything more boring than listening to unpublished authors talk about their “writing process”? Well, maybe out-of-work actors talking about roles they used to play and, in LA, The Industry. And any gamer anywhere talking about their avatar like it’s them. And first-time parents going on and on…and on about their week-old genius baby.