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MTB: When Parallel Planets Collide, Chapter NineNow, Riley, my best friend in the whole world— even though I don’t admit it sometimes— was in his dorm room the next morning, about five or six in the morning, right around the ass-crack of dawn. He was asleep in his bed, tucked away and off to dreamland. I would be, too, if I had as good a life as he did. But then, out of nowhere, the mailman came to his door and knocked on it.
“Letter for Mr. Zinc!” the mailman proclaimed.
Riley wondered to himself as the letter went through the bottom opening of his door. He had just woke up and got his sleep in, but it wasn’t much because he’d been practicing for his final exams until midnight— but that’s his business, not mine. As he wiped the crust from his eyes, he realized that this letter was something that he needed to read, no doubt about it. As he opened the envelope, a letter entitled ‘Dear Mr. Zinc’ could be seen at the top in bold letters. What, y
MTB: When Parallel Planets Collide, Chapter EightNow, I don’t know how the hell Cyrus was able to get discharged from the hospital that night, but the doctors managed to discharge him. He was on his way home, from what I know for sure, and he wanted to cook himself up a nice big plate of dinner; however, just then— and like a thief in the night— something grabbed him, sweeping him off his feet as it flew away.
“Hey, what’s going on here?!” Cyrus screamed, trying to release himself from the vampire’s clutches. I’m pretty sure the vampire’s name was Adam Neilo, and, let me tell you, this guy is older than Methuselah! And then he looked at the dark castle that also happened to be a long ways ahead of him before he looked up to the vampire I knew at the time as Adam and he finally came to his senses.
“Oh, it’s you, Adam! How are you doing?”
“I’m in a festive mood tonight,” Adam said to him, smiling. “I figured you might want to come along for
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More