Silence, Please
#39 of writings another entry in my mlp fanon project, this is the introduction to two new characters, fable prose, and final cut. their meeting is quite unique in several ways.
012 - Oh! Even In The Grave! pt.04
Dying on a molecular level kind of sort of, then being alright again kind of sort of, in a manner of a seconds is a harrowing ordeal to put it mildly. Gor' and Ideas pop outside for a little while for a smoke, Butters tells them they'll just wait here....
Winters-Lament.txt
Winter's Lament by Afril Enrobed in frost, her silver fur twinkling in the cold light, The white maiden does yet jealously guard the moon's passing. Her breath is the North wind, Her touch brings the ice, stopping rivers, covering lakes. At...
Twillight Link Dragon: During A Night
Should I keep living or not?\*I lower my dragon head and close my eyes\* Am I the only one who's a dragon? I keep having this anger lately and I don't have no one to talk to. I'm afraid of killing someone who's just trying to help me.\*I start to...
Broken Wings
Fly, be free. Into the wide world. The bird set off to explore. No pain or fear, just freedom. All over she flew. Wings beating against the wind. Night falls the wolves come out. The bird alights down for a rest. No pain, no fear, just...
Journal Entry, First Day
Today, around 12:20 p.m., I was assisting my stepfather and mother with some digging and re-shuffling of soil in the backyard of their beautiful home in Eastfield. It was good, honest work that any ready, healthy fur has more than capable means of...
The Wind Sings
#1 of poetry/prose an old piece of poetry that has been floating in my head again. **whispers... soft and unnoticable. can you hear the stories it tells? of ethereal places of legends hidden from the world.
An Interview with Paper_Paws
And i try to make my prose do what the project needs, rather than develop any one clear "style."
Bottom, of the Barrel
#1 of prose first prose upload. just a short barely edited smut story. she took a deep breath.
001 - 14/02/Forever
_The 14th stroke of Georgian's shortest_ _All I can do is wonder if you're doing it too?_ _Recreating snapshots of 8 years hence_ _In public transit daydreams, during the afternoon's hue_ _I must confess I time travel every single time_ _To the...
So Good At It
My mother was not much of a talker. At least not a heavy one. A woman of few words and even fewer worries, she toiled away her day by reading books and writing her own. She never told me what was in it or why she wrote, only that she did and that one...
The Procrastinators Dilemma
The sun looks sick and diseased in the backround, it's light a pale and ghastly yellow, spilling over the stark white piece of paper before me. I breathe a sigh of frustration. The pen is cold and slippery in my clammy palm, as if even it didn't want...