Quis Custodiet Ipsos CustodesQuis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes? by Superhim A Zento Fanfic of Sorts Tying the fraying golden rope about the day’s final bundle of red durum wheat, Tyrael wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched the sun sink beneath the mountains, orange hues dying and fading to obscene purples and, soon, darkness. Overhead, the Swainson’s Thrushes were returning to their breeding grounds in northern Altama, the white of their underbellies speckled with red from their violent throat markings. Calming waves of Spring spread across the lands, frosts thawing, animals emerging from hiding, ready toQuis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes
Zento Homage: TeaserAn Homage to the ZentoZento Homage: Teaser
It’s always sad when we see a promising series die for whatever reason. As an acquaintance and friend of some of the authors, I decided to give it a good send-off, since it’s highly unlikely it will ever be continued, finished, or redone.
Here are two teaser paragraphs from the upcoming story.
TEASER PARAGRAPH 1:
Tying the fraying golden rope about the day’s final bundle of red durum wheat, Tyrael wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched the sun sink beneath the mountains, orange hues dying and fading to obscene purples and, soon, da
Life in Static AirwavesLife in Static AirwavesLife in Static Airwaves
"Welcome to where time stands still.
No one leaves and no one will."
The words echo around between my ears,
slogging through my muddled brains
like cheap amber-colored brandy.
That used to be our song;
Jenny and I would dance
in the concert hall
at our wedding party, much to her mother's dismay
and on our bed,
although a different kind of dance.
Our bodies would entwine,
oblivious of the words save for the first two lines.
We swore that we would never leave,
that love would never die.
She
IT'S OVER
--
i said i was wearing black so you could
see me against the sky
--
A Deep Thought: Of all my relatives, my friends and I most liked "Uncle Caveman." We called him this because he lived in a cave, and sometimes, he'd eat one of us. Later on, we found out he was a bear.
--
Forget the gun, grab the cannoli.
--
Forget the gun, grab the cannoli.
--
All flesh is as grass, and the glory of man is as the flower of the field,
because the grass withers, and its flower falls away.
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