The City of Lost Heaven: Chapter 25
Chapter 25 I wish I'd stop lying to myself. After driving around for twenty minutes, pretending that I had something better to do, I end up on the street in front of Jackie's apartment. I know I said I didn't care what happened to him, but that...
The City of Lost Heaven: Chapter 18
Chapter 18 The dispatch agent that answers my call is supremely helpful. She even patches me through to the driver who took Catwright to Savannah's apartment that night. From the way he described the fare, it wasn't abnormal. He picked up the...
An Interview with gamestreamer/Psudo
As such, relatively few ever stuck with it, lacking the profit motive, and reached a professional grade of prose and storytelling. with artists, it's different.
Adventures with Asmodeus 1
Let’s get to the flowers – namely, your prose,” anon genuflects in front of you and clears his throat in preparation of playing the large ham.
Wind Whisperer
Wind Whisperer Written by ©Reeden Landshey C'mon lady... There's no need to be shy! I'm... I'm a really gently male, I swear to mah... my father's name. I'll give you a pleasure that... Mmmh, that you could only dream about... All I need is...
Gutpunch 4: Violence of an almost sexual nature
-it's sloppily writer, it's full of itself, the dialogues are horrible, the main character is a one dimensional thing, there's too much purple prose, the entire thing is a stupid allegory written only because the author tried to make himself look more intelligent
In the Service of Mystery (Pt. 20)
Nbsp; several minutes past punctuated only by the scratching of my pen across the paper and the odd interested noise from kiniun as he came across a particularly fascinating piece of the report's deathless prose
Until Forever
The storm showed no sign of slackening anytime soon. The pines outside bent and swayed with every gust, cutting the blowing rain into misty streaks between their boughs. Where was he? She couldn't help but worry. He would come, he always did. He...
Briskly Ice-Blinded
I hope to own the day," she vowed, in poetic prose. adding, just to further bruise him, "as i owned you." the rabbit flushed. his cheeks burned. and he continued running his scans.
Why the crow cries
When i made contact with the ground, a splash of mud covered my getting in my eyes; unable to see i start to flair around trying to get undone: in the proses i ripped my feather out of my back.
Interim
Mimicking them, complimenting them ... making their minds primp and pose ... to woo meanings from the prose: "oh, through the dog-paths and the hazel, through every place i've entered, i've looked for you to come ... years ago, or sooner
Portents and Justice
“poetic prose or not, there is a lot of truth to the legend.” my father said. “which is why we still tell it to our children.