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Secrets chapter 11Shaking in a dark corner, the brown feline known as Britttany watched as three ravaging dogs gradually advanced towards her. Saliva dripped from each of their crimson jaws, proving their hunger. Their eyes were blood shot and had not known a peaceful sleep in weeks. And their claws were outstretched, readying for a murderous kill. As the largest dog's shadow swept over the little cat's figure, her eyes widened in fright.
'This is the end for me. I just know it.. This is how I'm going to die; ripped apart by the one species that I hate the most. How lovely,' she thought, staring straight into the red gates of her eternal demise.
"How many alleyways have we searched so far?!" the young brown haired boy questioned, panting exhaustedly.
"Uhh.. About twenty-three, Jimmy," a distracted girl answered, putting her turquoise cell phone back in her jacket pocket.
Lifting his tired head to the clouding sky, he let out a sigh of despair. As he had done many times before, he thought of the one he
Secrets chapter 10As the morning sun rose that morning, a familiar brown cat exited a sturdy cardboard box that sat along the edge of a sidewalk. She yawned and stretched like any homeless cat would; leaning backwards to loosen up the tight muscles she had obtained from sleeping on damp cardboard almost every night. Her routine was mostly comprised of foraging for breakfast in the dumpsters, trying to not get killed by the local dogs, and sometimes accompanying a small box of ownerless kittens near a pretty little flower shop. Today though, she decided to just skip breakfast and avoiding the dogs by heading straight to the florist's store. As usual, there was an empty flower box sitting beside the door to the shop where four little kittens cutely meowed and cried out, despratly wanting someone to take them home. A snow white Persian with blazing blue eyes spotted the older brown cat first, lifting up its small fluffy paws up against the side of the box and calling to her box mates.
"Hey, look everyone!
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More