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To Yoliztli, the moon in the skyTo Timothy, the embers of the bonfire

Intro

Let’s keep this quick. I hate prologues. My name is Ralf Matle, I was born in March of 2008. Here I am in the year 2072, at my house in a green and tepid suburb of Northern London. I live with my wife and we have a couple of kids that moved out as soon as they could. Pretty boring so far, am I

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The Way Home

“Find the pretty lady. Go on follow her and claim your prize,” Zeke said, swiftly shifting the three cards as more people joined the crowd gathered to watch.He’d been on the sidewalk for at least three hours already, and had a sizeable stack of pound notes on the table in front of him. It was quite tricky keeping people enticed while fleecing them for all they

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The Pet Shop

The chilling yet beautiful tale of coming too close to heaven.


I was always the black sheep of my family.

My mother graduated Yale with highest honors. My father, Harvard. Both my older brother and sister picked up top university scholarships like discarded sidewalk change.

I barely graduated from high school.

I matched my sibling's 4.0 GPA'

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Siri

Charlie was sitting on the edge of the roof, looking down at the city from the top of the skyscraper, his feet dangling above the glowing abyss of lights.

He picked up his smartphone, took a picture of the last thing he will ever see(it was beautiful), added it to the blog post in which he said his goodbyes to the world and hit "send".

That is it, he thought *one

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Something doesn’t feel right. I can see it now, creeping into my room. It always does. I told myself it was a dream, that it was not real. I wish I was right.

I look to the corner of the doorway, which is blanketed in shadows of my nightlight. It is creeping over slowly, glancing at me with its strange eyes- and then, darkness.

I wake up in cold sweat and glance around wi

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Stella sighed, glancing at the ticking clock which hung on the plain white wall.“It has been hours and she still isn’t back…” Sakura sat beside her on a wooden chair, her hands perched on the kitchen table to support her weight.“Don’t worry. She will be back. I mean, she HAS been sleep for a few days. Probably just confused.” Stella shook her head, worry clear in her blue e

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The Last Christmas

The mantle of Santa Claus has been passed down once again, this time to an industrial engineer who starts to get some dangerous ideas in his head about the true meaning of Christmas. This fic is still being worked on. I finished it with Christmas (2013) as my deadline, but the story suffered for it, so even though it's complete there will probably be a reworking of it later.

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Untitled

Jamie woke up late, discovering his house has been robbed. Tabbatha screamed, as every morning, wanting cat food.

"Shit".

Jamie picked up the phone, dialing 911, turned around look at hostile Tabbatha, murmured to himself, 'why didn't they take you also... '.

Couple hours later, sirens came to the quiet street of Brooklyn, parked right in front of the b

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THE WOODEN BOX

She looked franctically at the hospital room,hands cold as ice,tears dried up on her face,facing downward to look at her blood stained shredded clothes. which admonish her of the plight at hand.she thought about the accident, the faded memory she tried to allude. why had she started the fight with her parents,especially her mom.oh if she hadn't pick a figh

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The Skeleton Key to Eternal Reverie

                                        by Daniel Pecheur

“The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.”-Carl Jung

On the night of the wild storm, Joseph busied his thoughts in the strange discoveries he had made in the ancient book collection of the house. The dusted and wearied shelves comprised a hermetic treasure trove of secrets, which slowly and subtly worked its bewitching power over the young man, feeding his imagination a feast of most unusual fodder. The evening transformed into inclement night while he rummaged through the ruins of volumes from the earliest prints of Arabian Nights and the writings of Paracelsus to Agrippa and The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He spent nearly an hour poring through a withered tome filled with fantastical art of the occult. Demonic, hell-stained images of medieval grotesques haunted the sallow pages and weird pastel scenes distorted by all sorts of bogeys and chimeras cast a mysterious spell upon the mood of Joseph, with overtones of some other realm. A shapeless life force inhabited these crumbling pages, vibrating staccato in the background behind the roaring pell-mell of thunder and cloudburst.

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Atlantis

Captain looked at the gigantic underwater city, glowing brightly behind the force field. His submarine was floating still, just near the edge of the enormous bubble, and he was looking at it through the window of his cockpit.

The city looked like it was made out of gold. There was no texture to the buildings just pure and bright yellow metal.

Submarine's interc

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