Revaramek the Resplendent: Chapter Sixty Nine
. \*\*\*\*\* chapter sixty nine \*\*\*\*\* revaramek stared at the sky. the gray ceiling was unusually thin today, swirling above their humble home. he could almost see the sun, and its hazy light brought a pleasant warmth to his scales and wings.
Revaramek the Resplendent: Chapter Sixty Eight
. \*\*\*\*\* chapter sixty eight \*\*\*\*\* when days bled into weeks, and weeks blurred into months, vakaal stopped keeping track. most days were the same. the servants woke him in the morning, with breakfast.
Revaramek the Resplendent: Chapter Sixty Six
. \*\*\*\*\* chapter sixty six \*\*\*\*\* the men in robes awoke vakaal early in the morning every day. their servants brought him food, and water. so far, the servants had treated him kindly. some of them made small talk with the pup as he ate.
Seekers: Chapter Three: The Deal
"this is rover sixty." a monotone voice said. "new vega, rover sixty. respond, respond. package secure...one million packed and ready...under sixty...rover...rover sixty...this is rover sixty."
Blood Red: Chapter Four: The Red Fox
"barely fifty dollars lost; not much, considering how much money we gained over sixty years back." "you mean the money i gained." i said assertively, bringing my head down and meeting the administrator's gaze.
Decrpypting a Fox
We," he pointed to the badger and the scruffy-looking rabbit, "are going to the sixty-first floor. the kid will get into the security centre and give us access from there.
Typheks Origins
The prophecy behind typhek extends back to millions of years, during his species predominance in laramidia (north america) sixty-five to sixty-seven million years ago at the cretaceous period.
Agents of C.O.W.- Prologue
Alert and more than a little worried, patti grabbed her sixty-shooter and a few rounds before heading out of her quarters.
Stolen Ribbons (Otherwise Untitled)
It'd be either fifty-seven percent, or sixty-two percent." ~ bell blinked.
Time
Since there is no way to escape it, must i find a way to live with it, this notion that in the next sixty seconds, my heart will beat over sixty and up to a hundred _times_. without time, can there be music? for music needs a beat.
Black Ice
"we could go round sixty-two, route sixty-two, if you want? it might be bit iced up," i sneezed into my glove, "but, there's no rush, right?"
A Year Later, Wounds Still Lie Open
And then, all of a sudden, three hundred and sixty five days have gone by, three hundred and sixty five.