Poor Imp

I sit in silence. Isn't that immortality-- Being the present?

Dear Writer, This is how the world ends, not with a whimper -- but a bang! Don't you remember the poem? Well, you put it into the story, credo di ...

Why make a resolution When one could have a revolution? Modernity elicits valid suspicion In its taming traditions. ...er, that's why I don't make resolutions. ^_^

Oy, I'm impishly delighted by the S'More Method . Huzzah to it!

Fence

Er, because this ought to be bumped, and I have a moment. Character #1 (no details, guess from his pockets/bag): Cigarette rolling paper, crumpled, stained; nano cards, one hopelessly bent; ...

If mint weren't in earnest potato would earn it; but as mint's on the ballot, that's what we'll call it. And chocolate to boot? strike that, it's moot. Oh bother ...

I'm a bit confused. Do you need suggestions for why she might move from mistrust, to trust? As in, what makes her change her mind about him? It might help ...

Oy, the Festival of Gratitude for Writing Utensils! Huzzah! Or the Fictional Day of Imp-lementing Anecdotal Impressions of Impecunious Relations in Dystopian Fiction.

Only one word says life: do not pass by so quickly. Sound is fugitive in this the graveyard of the seasons and missed, makes changing an ache.

No eyes given leave having followed the wild geese are safe boundaried: and they see more than what's been– ice, dead leaves of summer-speak

dusk at dawning smudged– nothing breaks to stake the day is coming, but still will some gaze, looking for warmth where sky has rubbed out the sun

Erasure, a collapsed face, looking down your own throat Delight

Clere storey, eaves, pre-dawn, between-breaths Faith

Willow, rivers, dawnlight. Extraction