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Gargarith

Running out of characters in thi
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Literature

Luminaries

I first came to know of the enigmatic Dr. Arleth, and of the uncanny sciences with which he plied his trade, though acquaintances in other cities who spoke of his coming visit to mine. As talk of the atomic had not yet ebbed, even a year after the bombs, I reasoned that a delve into the subject through one of Dr. Arleth's lectures would keep me current with the world, and so I decided to pay a visit one summer evening. The clouds and masses had both cleared out, leaving the blue sky deep as an ocean over a hushed city. Usually a human morass, the streets that ran to the library were clear. The drifting showman had set his stage in a dank cha

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84 deviations
Literature

Luminaries

I first came to know of the enigmatic Dr. Arleth, and of the uncanny sciences with which he plied his trade, though acquaintances in other cities who spoke of his coming visit to mine. As talk of the atomic had not yet ebbed, even a year after the bombs, I reasoned that a delve into the subject through one of Dr. Arleth's lectures would keep me current with the world, and so I decided to pay a visit one summer evening. The clouds and masses had both cleared out, leaving the blue sky deep as an ocean over a hushed city. Usually a human morass, the streets that ran to the library were clear. The drifting showman had set his stage in a dank cha

Featured

80 deviations
Rural II

Photography

31 deviations
Literature

The Dragon

        Ritz was last to hear about the dragon. When he returned from playing in the fields at the edge of the Boundary one cloudy Wednesday, the village of Kellog was assembled in the square around the fire pit and old Mr. Shing Sundja was with them, stiff and emotionless as usual. Chief Kit was at his side, but he wore the ceremonial mouse-faced mask of the clan and his expression was veiled. A few people spoke to each other in hushed tones but the village was silent for the most part. "What's going on?" asked Ritz when he'd reached the circle of villagers and wormed his way to the front. "Is something wrong?" "The Drake came a few hour

Prose

12 deviations
Literature

Mister Winter

Mr. Winter, scornful god, Bring along your bright facade. Skin so gray and hands so cold, Face it, friend, you're growing old. Underneath your iron thumb, All day long we're grim and numb. Like a nun in habit dressed Is the world you've oppressed. Bleak, blank eyes ablaze with wrath, Storm across the flowered path. See the roses resting there. My! what gaudy clothes they wear! Puritanically you rage. Ah, the outburst shows your age, But the roses shrink away, Shamed, they will no longer play. Also hidden is the sun, Through the sky she used to run. Now you keep her off your lawn, How we miss the rosy dawn. Winter, now you'

Poetry

5 deviations