Tom raises an eyebrow and pulls out his dauthdaert, pointing the death lance at crow chest. "Shall we?" He asked, a grin full of bloodlust on his face.
Well i feel the need to spin some new flavor into my writing so let's begin. ... ... aaaaand i got nada. Well writer's block is the worst. crank randomness to level eleven.
"No, you look like you would get too much pleasure out of fighting, so put your toy away before you poke someone's eye out. Anyways, you already broke a few tables, we don't need this place going up in smoke," Crow said, calmly pushing the lance away from his chest.
"If you were to die without anyone ever remembering you, then does that mean you never existed? If so, that is why I write, to be remembered; to exist.". -me
Tom's anger boiled and he lunged. An opponent was what he wanted and someone good. This probably wasn't the best way of starting an honorable duel but at that moment Tom felt a bloodlust that was truely alien. A small part of his brain noted the little girl watching the fight from a corner, all that was visible was a huge grin under a pointed hat. But Toms main focus was his prey, this crow who would fall to his blade or else vice versa.
Well i feel the need to spin some new flavor into my writing so let's begin. ... ... aaaaand i got nada. Well writer's block is the worst. crank randomness to level eleven.
FermentingFruit walks into a bar (Tavern, but that doesn't go with the joke).
Save time... see it my way.
"During high school, I played junior hockey and still hold two league records: most time spent in the penalty box; and I was the only guy to ever take off his skate and try to stab somebody." -Happy Gilmore
yubbies21 walks slowly into the Tavern, eyeing the chaos. Broken tables were scattered around and two people were fighting in the middle of the floor. She cautiously slips around the fight and up to the bar.
"Can I please have an orange soda?" she asked timidly.
"Sure thing"
Surveying the Tavern, she finds an empty booth and slides in. Secretly, she pulled out a notebook and began to write, keeping careful tabs on the fight happening, making sure she wasn't in the way.
Kay Fortnight walks into the tavern and stops in the doorway, staring at the fighting pair. She suspects this wouldn't be the kind of place her parents would approve of her visiting, but sits down anyway and pulls out her kindle. After all, if she always listened to them, she'd be too afraid to leave her house.
Too many people in tavern... this tommy's tavern... Tommy smash every kindle and book in tavern... Wait a minute. Tommy loved literature of every sort. Only evil magic could turn this love to its opposite. Tommy tried to slow down though he felt like he went one too many times on the gravtitron. Oh the dizziness.
Well i feel the need to spin some new flavor into my writing so let's begin. ... ... aaaaand i got nada. Well writer's block is the worst. crank randomness to level eleven.
Crow decided the fight was going to far, and he knew he needed to get Tom out of the tavern. He looked around and found an off-kilter table lying behind him. He jumped back, kicked the table into an upright position, jumped onto the table, and masterfully jumped through the hole he had originally(page 56) came through. He sat on the roof, waiting, or more so hoping, for Tom to follow.
"If you were to die without anyone ever remembering you, then does that mean you never existed? If so, that is why I write, to be remembered; to exist.". -me
Deadman appears in the doorway. He ignores all of the commotion and asks for a grape soda and sits down in one of the stools. He then removes his mask and takes a sip of the soda.
"If you're going through hell, keep going." -Winston Churchill
"You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life." -Winston Churchill
Xaxas walks in out of cold wind, lowering the hood of his cloak. He gives a glance at the fight taking place, he shakes his head not wanting to get involved. "Give me a Sprite, please." He says walking to a secluded table, as he pats Deadman friendly on the back as he passes. When he gets to the table he removes the cloak to stretch out his mechanical wings, and then he takes a sip of his Sprite.
This is our routine. Day and night, all we do is survive; it never lets up. He tells me how these streets were crowded with people just going about their lives.. must've been nice.~Ellie
His wife was the first one to suggest reopening the Tavern. Then his friends, and even finally his enemies beseeched him to reopen the Tavern. But it had been so long, and he had vowed to never again be involved in the drink dispensary industry. The mix-up in drink orders on that final day just never did sit well with him.
But now Nate stood in front of the old building, refurnished yet retaining all its old charm. The hinges on the door were shot, the floorboards creaked, and the shingle roof owed much to a thick moss. But there was now a new ribbon on the door.
As he stepped in, he flicked the light switch on only to discover it didn't work. After a brief interval of opening the windows, he turned the sign over to say "Open: Serving Soda, Milk, and Juice!"
Now he just waited behind the bar for his first customer to arrive.
Noni stepped into the dusty wood of the old Tavern, breathing in familiar sights and smells through the layer of dust. Nate stood alone behind the bar, tending to the familiar place that stood in a state of disrepair. Noni approached the dark wood of the bar and pulled one of the stools from its top. She dusted away the cobwebs and sat upon the dark leather.
"One large orange juice please," she said, laying a handful of change on the table. "Man, it's good to be back."
Nate smiled back from behind the bar. "Indeed."
"Interesting times," returned Noni. Then, a lone shadowy figured stepped through the doorway.
Kay stepped through the door and stared as the two people within whirled to face her, one holding a weapon. She raised her hands up nonthreatening, and after a moment, they lowered their weapons.
Hanging her dark cloak on a hook, Kay muttered with a smile, "Jumpy much?" but inside she was thinking she should have stayed home at her farm.
No. This was important. I ruffled the hair of my infant daughter's head sticking out of the swing, and hoped we'd find someone to help her in time.
The doors opened and the young woman entered with a bright smile, lowering her black hood and shaking out her long crimson hair. She sauntered across the room and slid into an empty bar stool, smiling at the man and the other two women.
"Hello!" Ariel said softly, giving each of them a nod, then announced, "My name is Ariel, nice to meet you all. Oh! Is she yours?" She said in surprise as she suddenly spotted the baby the woman was holding, and she leaned over to peek at the little infant.
“I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then." - Lewis Carroll
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