Vector's Memoirs; The Chaotix That Was (Part Four)
"uh, there's uh, oil and gas all over the place-" "meh, don't sweat that," i cut him off, and whipped out the smokes like a cowboy straight out of some old spaghetti western.
R/7 The Deep
He brought fish oil and mushrooms and crushed peppers. he sets out the fish oil to boil. hilda rolls on the slab; wind blows across her lips and she mumbles. 'wash the bird in salt and eggs.'"
The Machine
Gear teeth grind, pistons pump, the oil and grease drip, the hot iron dumps. the mold presses down, it forms small metal chunks, which the hammers pound flat, they keep swinging, down, down, down.
Sweat Dreams
The evening was pleasant but the midnight oil was beginning to dwindle. the last conversation we had went like this: friend: i like having you here leo: yeah, it's been good seeing ya again friend: will you stay tonight?
Distress Signal
"going to need to keep these oiled", he said.
Paper, Plastic, or Tire Iron. (Otherwise Untitled)
~ the cashier, apron long stained with the various oils and automotive fluids to the point that it matched the dull tints of the coyote's fur, glowered out to the pump while his fingers danced across the tire iron laid out on the shelf
Wonderland? or never land?
"sigh" i hiss softly, oiling my long body around a rock. i wait for her to return. she does eventually, her eyes wild with fear. "wh- what do you want?" her small voice whispers. my insides bubble up with joy at the sound coming from her lips.
Tragic Life Part Two
His sleek body cut through the pool as if he was a singular piece of metal or more accurately a well oiled machine.
Pristine
At the bottom of the stairs was a long hallway, lit by a few oil lanterns. several guards in sleek tempered steel armor and brandishing pole-arms stood at attention in various parts of the hallway.
Forgotten Gods Part 2: Risen From The Depths
Its flesh was dark as oiled night, smooth and slick and taut with streamlined musculature confined below the skin.
To Touch the Sky
Metal, oiled and gleaming, slicing the air. _thunk._ agony shudders through me. i beg them to stop -do not do this wicked thing! my plea falls on deafened ears. keen metal bites deep into my flesh. again. again.
Restless
Many were labelled with the familiar design and wording of the unique massage oil for which this whole spa complex was famous, varied strengths and variations of the formula most of which serling had felt used upon him at one point or another.