As usual, Bran had been give a place at the edge of the camp, some distance away from the horses and all the gear, but close enough that the others could easily keep an eye on him. He was sitting on an old, half rotten log looking at the men and women setting up camp for the night. He raised his bound hands to his face to scratch at the stubble on his chin while he contemplated his situation. Continue reading...
Grandma Applebottom had just picked up her knitting when the door bell rang. Her grandchildren had just been visiting and she assumed one of them had forgotten something and come back. Knitting needles still in hand, she went to the answer the door. Outside was a tall slim man in a cloak the color of the night. ”Have you come to collect me?” she asked, a hint of trepidation in her voice...continue reading
Below is a short snippet of text that has been sitting around on my phone for a while, it kind of popped up into my head one day. It could very well be a piece of world building from a larger story, something like a fantasy novel with a steampunk setting. So far this novel remains unwritten, the only thing that exists is this short snippet:
Stockelheim is an ancient city, so old in fact that most of the city center is built on top of older buildings. It has a castle of course, every proper city needs a good castle.
This is a text I wrote back when Miley Cyrus’ song We Can’t Stop was popular. It is an attempt at describing the images that pop up in my mind when I hear that dark beat and see that music video.
The party had been going on for almost a week now, not just during the nights, but constantly; people were still partying, still drinking and still dancing, but with less energy than before, the spark in their eyes was all but gone. The ceaseless onslaught on the revelers minds and bodies was taking its toll: several people had passed out … Read the rest