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Пока Сакаи летал к чужакам, он успел привести свой отсек модуля в «жилой» вид — то есть развесить по стенам черно-белые голограммы изъязвленных кратерами каменных пустынь, инопланетных болот и джунглей, разрушенных городов и просто затянутого дымами горизонта. Большинство незнакомых с Винни людей эта «готическая панорама» вгоняла в депрессию с первого же взгляда в отличие от самого пилота, любившего под настроение полюбоваться «местами, где я не погиб». ↗
Your hair is like butterflies,” Sebastian said, giggling like a child. “That’s nice,” Firen said impatiently. “Keep moving.” “Fantastic. I always like my days better with a touch of insanity,” Gabriella quipped. ↗
#fantasy #fiction #humor #paranormal-fantasy #paranormal-romance
We don't quesiton the Others. They rule Earth, maintain order, protect us from the Wilds, But the are not us. They are Other. ↗
#scifi #the-last-year #trisha-leigh #whispers-in-autumn #scifi
I’ll stab him,” offers Jaden as she makes a stabbing motion. “You expect me to play along?” Rob scoffs, gripping his arm protectively. “Pretty much,” replies Landon earnestly. “You’re serious?” “As a heart attack.” “No,” argues Rob. “I’m not going to let Jaden—or anyone else—skewer me.” He’s greeted with an amused silence. “Bleedin’ crime is what it is,” he mutters. “Why can’t someone else go all noble sacrifice-y? It’s because I’m English, ain’t it? ↗
Only in summer-phase is it carnivorous.” If there was an award for understatement, I thought, the Tyr would trounce all competition. ↗
Fat Charlie blew his nose. "I never knew I had a brother," he said. "I did," said Spider. "I always meant to look you up, but I got distracted. You know how it is." "Not really." "Things came up." "What kind of things?" "Things. They came up. That's what things do. They come up. I can't be expected to keep track of them all." "Well, give me a f'rinstance." Spider drank more wine. "Okay. The last time I decided that you and I should meet, I, well, I spent days planning it. Wanted it to go perfectly. I had to choose my wardrobe. Then I had to decide what I'd say to you when we met. I knew that the meeting of two brothers, well, it's the subject of epics, isn't it? I decided that the only way to treat it with the appropriate gravity would be to do it in verse. But what kind of verse? Am I going to rap it? Declaim it? I mean, I'm not going to greet you with a limerick. So. It had to be something dark, something powerful, rhythmic, epic. And then I had it. The perfect line: Blood calls to blood like sirens in the night. It says so much. I knew I'd be able to get everything in there - people dying in alleys, sweat and nightmares, the power of free spirits uncrushable. Everything was going to be there. And then I had to come up with a second line, and the whole thing completely fell apart. The best I could come up with was Tum-tumpty-tumpty-tumpty got a fright." Fat Charlie blinked. "Who exactly is Tum-tumpty-tumpty-tumpty?" "It's not anybody. It's just there to show you where the words ought to be. But I never really got any futher on it than that, and I couldn't turn up with just a first line, some tumpties and three words of an epic poem, could I? That would have been disrespecting you." "Well...." "Exactly. So I went to Hawaii for the week instead. Like I said, something came up. ↗
I cannot decide whether it is an illness or a sin, the need to write things down and fix the flowing world in one rigid form. Bear believed writing dulled the spirit, stilled some holy breath. Smothered it. Words, when they’ve been captured and imprisoned on paper, become a barrier against the world, one best left unerected. Everything that happens is fluid, changeable. After they’ve passed, events are only as your memory makes them, and they shift shapes over time. Writing a thing down fixes it in place as surely as a rattlesnake skin stripped from the meat and stretched and tacked to a barn wall. Every bit as stationary, and every bit as false to the original thing. Flat and still and harmless. Bear recognized that all writing memorializes a momentary line of thought as if it were final. But I was always word-smitten. ↗
I may have been buzzed last night, but I remember everything. I can't promise you that I won't want to drive you home, or kiss you like crazy again. Because I will. I do. ↗
Holy spirits, you walk up there in the light, on soft earth. Shining god-like breezes touch upon you gently, as a woman's fingers play music on holy strings. Like sleeping infants the gods breathe without any plan; the spirit flourishes continually in them, chastely kept, as in a small bud, and their holy eyes look out in still eternal clearness. A place to rest isn't given to us. Suffering humans decline and blindly fall from one hour to the next, like water thrown from cliff to cliff, year after year, down into the Unknown. ↗
...there is still a need for those of us nestled deep within the Christian bubble to look beyond the status quo and critically assess the degree to which we are really living biblically. ↗
#christian #christianity #counter-cultural #discipleship #normal
