Mornings in the Dark (Otherwise Untitled)
The otter looked to the clock. one in the morning. he resumed staring into the featureless sea of dimly blue ceiling above him, before he slide out from the warmth of blankets to stumble to the bathroom. perhaps this would address matters.
A gift to remember
“a clock tower," he pointed towards the carefully placed and planned streets that led the adventurous spirit to central trupurgh. something was there at the end, i could see, but no tower; and certainly no clock.
In He Ran 1 - The Chase Begins
clock tower is copyrighted to human entertainment, finalgamer to me **the chronicles of finalgamer in he ran** _"time is a game played beautifully by children."
In He Ran 4 - Time To Go
The clock tower's clock stopped...the hell does that mean, what clock tower?" as he thought on how he had never seen anything like a clock tower in the place, something occurred to him just then.
In He Ran 3 - Waltzing Nostalgia
clock tower is copyrighted to human entertainment, finalgamer to me making his way further into the mansion, james checked the third door in the hallway past the study and the child's bedroom, encountering a rather dark library.
In He Ran 2 - Trapped Like A Rat
clock tower is copyrighted to human entertainment, finalgamer to me walking back to the foyer where he had woken up in, he noted a door next to the one he had just exited, only to find it locked. even with a few hefty shoves it would not budge.
The Tail Clock
A moment between partners, unsteady in contrast to their kitchen clock. so much was at stake as the leopard curled his tail. the appendage reached his foot paw in fits and starts, more like a clock hand in its movement than the usual fluid sweep.
Just a short abstract story
Just some random comments from my mind, it's been a long time since i've been here clock is ticking so fast and so slow my paw twitches with excitement what's going to happen next?
Dreamy Waterfall
The clock has reached its time. once upon a time i was a porcelain doll that lived. once upon a time i was a porcelain doll that was not broken. once upon a time my voice was stolen. hear me now. hear me cry. hear my strength.
The Ancient Clock of the Mice
Aurum glanced at the clock, then ran for the wall, ran up it until he reached the wood of the clock.
The Abbey
Then there was the insistent notion that the room was slowly turning about her, like a gear in a truly enormous clock, something she had now become a part of. but no - that was wrong.
Fool's Gold
Scoundrel’s a clock-making bull who goes by it/its. hornless and castrated, it found its quiet dignity in the structure of the object, a dust speck in space/time, form and function aligned.