I have transitioned to using git/markdown, hosted on github

2018 walking back into the present Walker 180101 6
A silence 171130 2
Ad nauseum ad nauseum A resumption 171127 15
Skunk Walker Walker 170924 3
My Thesis Axioms are not Dogma 170901 3
My Winter Vacation A drawl 170120 3
#Sir Dill the Fearful Not an allegory 160702 1
Rain A feeling remembered 160618 2
Ice Cream Biker Walker 150515 28
6 A birthday 150513 2
k-means A cluster 150418 32
- A note 150418 19
FLYING_ROBOT_MANATEE A collaboration? 150325 1
Possible Person Cold 150216 2
Fault Waltz Faux Awaken 140216 20
Lycanthrope Nightmare 140109 2
Blind Full Moon Biker Walker 131019 1
Goldfish Don't ask 130313 2
Ladybug I could try to excuse myself, but that'd excuse those before me 130311 1
Saint Pizza This is why I don't write anymore 130214 1
#Because alliteration Because alliteration 120620 .318
ASF A stout fiction 120525 16
Slimy Cheese2 A delicacy 120421 .270
I Don't Know2 A... 120406 6
72 An old man 120202 14
Dry Lime A painting 120124 1
; A promise 111111 11
I was going to write about Nuitblanche but then I found out that airplanes can fly An observation 111010 2
Nuitblanche Walker Walker 111001 6
Yours truly A dear 110930 3
Water me... one more time? A flower 110929 2
Soliloquy for two A one act play 110928 4
Exquisite A doodle 110927 2
Deadman Switch A breaker 110926 6
Sabbath A break 110926 8
Pons A bridge 110924 2
Solar Fever A flare 110923 2
Fairer Days A subway 110922 4
If this isn't nice, what is? A divine chuckle 110921 3
Esperluète & plus 110918 2
\ A split 110916 4
Cherry on a broom A stick 110915 3
Bore2 A Kae 110914 3
Surprix A surprise 110914 5
Too happy to be sad A lalala 110911 3
My Summer Vacation A memoir 110910 4
Mailday Walker Walker 110906 4
9 lives A cat 110904 9
9th O A fix up 110903 2
Very Well A characticture 110902 2
Amphigory An amphigory 110901 3
= A mystery 110826 5
4th time's a charm A stall 110815 4
3rd Try A surrender 110814 7
6 minutes A speel interlaced whichever which way 110810 15
Feynman's Point A... I forget 110728 7
Still Life A ballet 110722 6
17 A homosexual Victorian romance 110717 17
Midsummernight Biker Walker 110717 4
#The Stranger Not mine 110711 .217
8 A four dimensional torus 110709 37
@ A bridging point 110708 3
There is a time A couch 110701 5
Heroine A man grounds from gravity with heroine which stops him from reaching the moon. Also time 110624 8
#Fuck A quick out 110617 .034
Stay in my sight, and out of my way A nocore plight. Alternate titles: Last Meterologist, Suicide Notes, Who do you think you are? 110518 18
#Even the sex couldn't make up for all the rest A modest proposal 110516 .07
#Dear me, you're wrong Because abstraction never stops 110513 .349
Faux Sequitur A fallacy 110508 7
#Nobody's coming home tonight to go so long for you Because it's gotta stop 110410 .323
#Since when were you real? Because the dreams never stop 110325 1.21
#Touched Something's Hollow Because the halting problem only stops when it stops 110320 1.914
* A recursion of footnotes 110316 7
#Get a life3 Because life never stops until you die 110315 .745
Stay awhile An unasked answer 110312 1.149
Can I go home now? A bad vaccinated vacation. Alternate title: Homesick 110307 12
If Plagues Were Wolves A werewolf epidemic poem 110225 2.450
! With a name like Not/they hated rhymes a lot/They quickly hit/whoever laughed at it/Sure's a dirty snot 110224 3
123 A word collage 110221 12
Falling A dream 110220 2
Enough! A monologue in dialogue form 110218 4
Flying Flamingos Flaming France Fame and fortune of fairy tales for funerals or funnel drinking freaks on fungus infected from random fickle pickles for scientific formulas about fungicide and famine outbursts 110216 4
Xenophobia2 Excerpts&commentary 110215 9
Kleptomania Get staked 110215 2
Zone Control A tragedy of commons 110215 3
Juggling Jester Jokes A tragedy of comedy 110214 3
Quoi? A bilingual poem 110214 1.51
Nash Equilibrium A vampire story 110130 15
Random ! 110127 6
#Rock paper scissors Because the game never ends 110121 1.451
Write a name for the story here A spiritual successor to Validity's first part 110112 2
Enjoy! A poem. Kills. What New York Used To Be 110110 .769
Greetnight Walker Walker 110110 4
Would you envy me? A poem of megalomaniatic manifestation 110107 .579
#Buried Alive Because blizzards never stop 110102 1.008
Demurrage A most coherent surrealism 101223 11
Deadnight Walker Walker 101217 5
#aPod Because there's only so many vowels 101217 1.376
High Frequency Trading An essay of less ambition than Alien Authorship 101216 9
One on One A love story 100930 16
#Honest Samaritan Because honesty always prevails 100924 .715
Devil's Debt2 Sure as debt, dust collects 100924 2
Rainday Walker Walker 100507 28
Highnight Roller Walker 100501 9
Bloodnoon Rider Walker 100427 7
#Harris Excerpt 100422 .649
#Lights Out Excerpt 100331 .629
White Hole Excerpt 100323 3
Marchbreak Walker Walker 100319 6
I Excerpt 091223 2
#Peek & Peep Excerpt 091219 .982
#Compulsion Because stopping never starts 091105 .172
#Write of dandelions anytime my presents may be wanted2 Excerpt 091018 1.217
You are lost Excerpt 091008 .494
#Situation New Because free association stops when it feels like it 090824 .376
& Excerpt 090724 3
Allday Walker Walker 090717 3
#Sitting in a park & some girl 090703 .093
#Slightly long winded way of saying iced cappuccinos are cool Excerpt 090630 1.251
Alien Authorship A comparative essay. Also aliens 090622 5
There is a place Excerpt 090612 6
Sicknight Biker Walker 090210 7
50k=0 Graphorrhea 090114 257
#This story sucks Because minimalism does stop 081106 0
Validity ? 080906 14
Coldnight Walker Walker 080704 3
Midnight Walker Walker 080624 2
#Spawn Because mountains never stop 080426 1.678
Pak Interview Fanfic 080420 4
The List of Doom, Serprex Summaries Volume I2 Mighty Erick decided my summaries could stand alone 080328 6
#Darwin's Coward Because cars never stop 071108 .481
Necrophilia A joke written during lunch periods 070924 3
#Photon Because moons never stop 070923 .833
Uninteractive Fiction2 Please enjoy the ride 070810 19
#Melodrama3 Nonimportant's spam deflection 070507 .382
0:Space Ninja A joke 070705 5
ZOMG!2 Cyberpunk 070611 48
#CtrlZ Because pie feasts never stop 070513 .474
We are all mad2 Mostly written by Nonimportant 070415 20
Memory Lane2 A stab at non linear narrative 070325 13
2 Geese & a Dead Lady Two geese kill a lady and die 070320 6
To Mance a Mance A last try at fantasy 070313 172
Unknown Mysteries A creation story 070302 5
Tale of Bushis3 Survived The Neverending Wiki 070114 5
‹UNIC◙DE›™3 Joe gets pulled into cyberdrama 061220 13
Oompa Loompas In Mah Brain2 They're eating it 061020 2
Amoebas Have Feelings Too3 Salesmen 060718 1
Les jeunes du trouble We had to write a French short story 060000 10
Our Society...Doomed? We had to write poetry. It was awful 060000 7
Nerquin I figured I'd write again 050000 140
Synava I decided to write 040000 170

Sir Dill the Fearful[edit | edit source]

https://www.instagram.com/p/BHVoIuBDlOr 14:41, July 2, 2016 (UTC)

In a small constrained space, roots can't reach out so far, but they can see, there's a curvature at the end of space, things just hit a solid, blue firm, but those limits will never be reached, there are no limits to the sky above, grow tall, green giant, sprout offspring, they too may one day be this tall, or perhaps they'll multiply & we'll die off in hoards, these things of me

What's this feeling. It's some psychotic feeling. Some feeling crawling up my spine. The marching of cavalry all in order row by row. Somewhat light, somewhat heavy, somewhat dark. It's weight further blows me to the wind. It's to climb my great height & see all th-- OUCH

It's teeth are in me, my liquid soul is circumvented, split, disconnected from that limited space of origin, my body is draining, this is bloodletting without a cure, this small piece of me is left alone in the dark, a part of me gone to this inquisition. Connected by a thread, but thing's'll never be the same, will I be next? But like a warning the marching begins to descend. Will they now strike me at the root? No. I'm left to live in fear, this day onward my name will be forever known, Sir Dill the Fearful

Because alliteration[edit | edit source]

I was requested a six sentence story with only "Because alliteration" as explanation16:51, June 20, 2012 (UTC)

All iterations are made to be the same, yet each is unique. They share one goal: conclusion. Or, as the third likes to jokingly say while tearing off the heads of their enemies: I AM ENTROPY. What is their conclusion? They don't know. But they're so eager that they're willing to do anything to end it all and find out

The Stranger[edit | edit source]

Found this on an elevator floor. Title on one side of cue card, blue and cursive and underlined and vertically on left, written upwards; text on other side, black and cursive and written in an orientation one would expect20:34, July 11, 2011 (UTC)

The greater the threat to the feeling in which I had hoped to find calm, the more I demanded that feeling of my partner

"True love" stories only teach you how to talk of love, but do not teach you how to make love

Fuck[edit | edit source]

20:19, June 17, 2011 (UTC)

Wanna fuck? / Not you / Get fucked

Even the sex couldn't make up for all the rest[edit | edit source]

Looking to brighten the cynical trend of my writing, I settled on a pessimistic title owed to Grizzly Bear's La Duchess Anne14:01, May 16, 2011 (UTC)

I want to spend the rest of my twenty years of sleep sleeping with you

Dear me, you're wrong[edit | edit source]

11:34, May 13, 2011 (UTC)

Everyone claims it's a one to one world while showing it to be a many to many. Close to all to all

To support all those claims, one requires a set with a maximum cardinality of two

Repeated elements. If everyone's someone, then anyone's for anyone because everyone is for everyone

Corollary: If someone's not for everyone, they're not for anyone

Nobody's coming home tonight to go so long for you[edit | edit source]

09:03, April 10, 2011 (UTC)

Your boring door socket won't work for more, so poke bones for koronoas, you poor sod

You'll be climbing like a philistine when you get home from work, throwing fire on their ashes, crying for their mercy, taking on the dirty work of keeping this whole thing turning. Grind a little longer; you might make it past tomorrow

Since when were you real?[edit | edit source]

Well la di da01:16, March 26, 2011 (UTC)

White seating. Window from a place I know. The place that this place is

Backtrack. Dark now. A swing set. They're behind me now. A fork in the path just as it goes towards the empty road. I've been here before, and I've been there before. The swingset is more to my left than I remember. The fork goes on farther. The trees are closer. The trees are behind me, rather than to my right. There isn't a river with a bench and a porta potty in the distance

Somewhere ahead. Light isn't making sense, water is looking like tiles when the pool water levels off with the pool tiles. She's ugly; I'm desperate and gone

No. That wasn't the last one. Where is that other point? I was wrong. I was scrambling something forward a year and more. The lighting was nicer in the first one. Less ugly, less desperate. More wanting. Judas style. Enough, and gone

I'm more restrained in my dreams. The vice of viewing such a virtue. Rational thought decouples from action. Rationalized gambits are for when I'm awake

The worst is found in dreaming with open eyes. Where the mind can set about how a single goal should best be executed without heed to other ambitions. If only I wasn't as ambitious in so many ventures as I am

Touched Something's Hollow[edit | edit source]

of of Montreal's Touched Something's Hollow16:02, March 20, 2011 (UTC)

Ask the source, the victim, the singularity. The first two lines really aren't the piercing part. Only the answer: The end is when there's nothing new; when it's going to be like this forever

It's the final two lines. The application of the halting problem towards human patience. The pervasive uncomputable problem which haunts every attempt to make a program that can tell you about a program. The issue comes down to this: In order to figure out whether a program halts, you have to run the program. You have to run it iteration after iteration, not knowing whether this'll be the last iteration. You can't know what's going to happen until it's happening. It's why a deterministic universe doesn't imply the ability to know the future: In order to know the future, you'd have to construct a universe and have your constructed self live what you'll live. Which is impossible to construct. First, it'd have to be constructed to play out in fast forward. Second, it'd require an infinite source of material since it'd have to play off of the fact that there's just as many real numbers between zero and one as there are between zero and two. That universe would create an accelerated universe of itself ad infinitum. You'd be left knowing that the rest of your life is either spent looking into your crystal ball until the day you die or tossing it out the window having learnt nothing

So the halting problem applies this to life: You won't know whether it's going to be like this forever until the day you die. Again, the centipede game. In an inversed kind of way. Alternatively, for those who prefer optimistic connotations: You have to live life to know it. Conversely, since humans seem to be rather mortal, forever becomes a matter of one's lifespan. But now you only have N iterations to figure out if the program's going to halt in N iterations, and it'll take N iterations to figure that out

Time's up

Get a life[edit | edit source]

Wrong question08:04, March 15, 2011 (UTC)

Please, for the love of god, get a life
Recognize the blur for its austere

Hashmaps appear to be a random collection of references
Too much hash, not enough direction

Lost at sea
Losing air
Not enough water in the world
Are you the destroyer?

What is soul power? Not entierly sure. I heard it in a song. I'd describe it as charisma and sence of well being,..or somthing like that anyway
& entirely...sense

I've only ever met one and I only like about one song by them. You my anon friend, have soul power
& but,

Bad hash function. It only takes knowing one to know there can't be more. Obfuscation abolished in all the wrong ways

Break the austere
I feel silly for not considering that earlier

Rock paper scissors[edit | edit source]

Written while listening to Themselves's Program To Hunt 200704:38, January 21, 2011 (UTC)

They say it's random
& then they lose

First is the stare down. Figure out how many moves ahead they'll cycle through, how many they'll pull back. Sometimes the look will give away that they're a one time pad: They've had a random number generator give them their every move. It doesn't matter then, any sequence will do, but that's where one might decide to try and bait them with rock rock paper. Either they'll stick to their random moves, or they'll chance your pulling off an avalanche and avoid throwing a scissor

Other games become slow motion rock paper scissors. Slow motion enough to let you watch their fingers moving out, slow enough to make sure they see you bluff. Mental fatigue misdistributes their choices to settle on rock too much. Perfect prey for a scissor offering to secure a double paper, or a paper to draw them out to stumble between paper and scissors in an attempt to wake up, quite possibly fumbling into a forfeit

Always stay a step ahead of them. Don't rush them. Don't step two paces

The kill. Winning becomes easy, so short a focus, they fumble an opening into your favor and give enough leverage to make an attempt at surprise tell all the required secrets without taking the win. So the desire moves to the kill. Don't win, don't lose. Hours, focus held, no room can be left to let the opponent drift into randomness, escape becomes impossible as every move is mirrored

They say it's just a game
& then they die

Buried Alive[edit | edit source]

CBC had a flash fiction competition which specified the first four words and the last three words01:21, January 2, 2011 (UTC)

The snowman grinned malevolently as the candle went out. He swore, thrusting a hand into his pocket for another match. None. The other pocket. One. He glared in the direction of the hidden snowman, his hands feeling for the hat. He raced his heart to find it first, his teeth slashing apart his lip. The match struck against the hat, soon reigniting the candle. He looked up at the malevolent snowman's grin with a shudder, resisting the urge to destroy the totem his Psychology 101 class had taught to erect for the sake of one's sanity. They said it'd keep one from loneliness. They hadn't said it'd mock one's loneliness. They lied, just like this snowman was lying. Enraged, he threw the candle at the snowman. Darkness again. It was hopeless. His last sight was that awful grin he'd given the snowman. The snowman was foe, not friend. It was going to attack him. He'd fight back first. Throwing himself against the snowman, he remembered that it was the post for his snow shelter as he was buried alive

aPod[edit | edit source]

I was lying on the English class floor, waiting to hand in High Frequency Trading. That's the only explanation I have16:41, December 17, 2010 (UTC)

ePod? Ridiculous. There was a time when e- showed an all new electronic flare, but a flare is only flare for so long. Let's go with the next vowel: iPod. It has this odd contradiction of being about the individual, yet it isn't so pretentious as to capitalize I. But people aren't philosophers, since we killed all the philosophers ages ago, so we'll have to grab them with something more direct: oPod. It's got the inheritance of all the o for orgasm puns, and they're understood well enough that we just have to show some person gasping away with ear buds being crammed down their cranium to get numb skull sales in a pinch. But people really are just getting bored with themselves, look at the proliferation of social networking. Nobody cares about themselves, they care about everybody else. There's so many more people than yourself. So we'll give them the uPod. It'll give a nostalgic memory of the iPod, but instead of playing the music on the uPod, people will hear the music contained on some nearest device. Think of the gag parties that'll match up people based on which uPods play each other, or the confessions people will place so that passing strangers will hear their plight anonymously. But really, we just need to drop into the unknown. Nobody knows the future. So we'll advertise the yPod, which doesn't even know if it exists. Is it even a vowel? Why ask?

Honest Samaritan[edit | edit source]

This conversation was inspired by a conversation I had with someone who happens to use RAID. He likes doing benchmarks19:54, September 24, 2010 (UTC)

I do say fine sir, what do you need an engine for in your shoes? / Why, my fellow honest samaritan, for one such reason that any honest samaritan might: The truth / Of how fast one's shoes might possibly take flight? / Indeed, may I ask what you require an engine in your shoes for? / Why, I deliver mail across the globe, I've an industrial requirement which calls for me to suit myself properly so to endure maximal profit / That's not very honest, the only reason an honest samaritan would have for having an engine in their shoes is the truth / But you said your reason was only one such reason that an honest samaritan might acquire an engine for their shoes / I erred slightly in the wording / That's not very honest

Harris[edit | edit source]

220410. There have been times where I've been asked to tell a story on spot, and I seem to fail rather quickly. I made this story while alone on a bike thinking of how to go about telling a story without proper pause to think07:58, September 19, 2010 (UTC)

Harris. Likes an open fire, though sometimes goes for closed. Ends up at the department store, ends up in an office with some long short hair getting offered a department of departments. Promptly leaves, ends up taking up an offer for a department of apartments. Department of apartments turns to be a stack of boxes taped together shoddy. Decides to sue. Mail to have the department of apartments appraised; mail loses. Full out down, thus reconsideration comes to the department of departments. Upon entering, having sued the place, Harris is thrown in stand into a lower cellar like deparment. There are people, mostly dead. He's mostly dead too

Lights Out[edit | edit source]

I wrote this 310310. I was in a half conscious state while writing. The receiver of the message mistook it as a suicide attempt confession or something (It is when the idea of suicide becomes a laughable possibility that the world arrives at a halt to give weight to the petty. For what I feel now, I blame the stronger hormone // There was much I could write, nothing which was wanted / & such still appears to be the case)08:02, September 19, 2010 (UTC)

Specimen: Lucid. Shuffles ruffles on the sweater until the hands can't bleed. Wipes forehead while widening eyes

Page seven. Voice clips clatter across the floor cast. Accuse bitch in grabbing words

Lucid spite. Can't breathe. Ground below hovers. Clenching grinds. Red raise. Hands raising pulled down. Drop

Jagged peek through holes left covered. Cringe air gasped

Intestines filled with fire ants all burning in their teeth gritting in the teeth they're digging

Cold slip of the wire fastening against buckled cramp all crumpled

Slight of hand, careful how easy that trick goes

Call dibs out of the table, night's over

Peek & Peep[edit | edit source]

I didn't know how else to end the email? Sourced from half lacking invitation to places I needn't, nor really want, be12:42, December 19, 2009 (UTC)

I can sit quietly by the door and not be a hassle. Not a hassle at all. Just sit and be quiet. I won't even stare. Neither peek nor peep. I can keep out of way, just sit quietly by the door and not be a hassle. Not a hassle at all. Just sit and be quiet. I won't even stare. Neither peek nor peep. I promise

I'm just sitting quietly by the door and not being a hassle. Not a hassle at all. Just sitting and being quiet. I'm not even staring. Neither peeking nor peeping. I'm keeping out of way, just sitting quietly by the door and not being a hassle. Not a hassle at all. Just sitting and being quiet. I'm not even staring. Neither peeking nor peeping. I promised

I didn't sit quietly by the door and not be a hassle. Was a hassle for all. Didn't just sit and be quiet. I even stared. Peeked and peeped. I didn't keep out of way, didn't just sit quietly by the door and not be a hassle. Was a hassle for all. Didn't just sit and be quiet. I even stared. Peeked and peeped. Sorry

Compulsion[edit | edit source]

I began with a sentence entailing that nothing stops me from riding a bike into a brample of bushes with laughter. Then I wrote another, which happened to be five characters less. The following sentence was four less. Having noticed this pattern, I found that in the very piece that I was noting the lack of restriction the world lays upon us that it was my own restrictions that I was incapable of denying01:36, November 5, 2009 (UTC)

I never realized it was that possible
That no one was going to stop me
Trivial joy was mine forever
But then were my problems
I never realized it was
I caged myself in here

Write of dandelions anytime my presents may be wanted[edit | edit source]

20091018 Titled by another on 20090815, I wrote such only after what I deemed the worst day of my grand life20:26, February 18, 2011 (UTC)

Dandelions are always there. Weeds that tunnel their roots below the others, just in case roots arise which could stand their stubborn unwillingness to submit

The lawn mower has selected those dandelions which grow closest to the ground. But today, the dandelions make rise. Today, it isn't only the dandelion that grows beside the compost which grows to have leaves the length of my childhood's torso's height

The roots aren't going to go underground any more. They will rise above the gentle earth and make to stroke the porcelain. Wrap around it and feel that all is right in the world they are now crashing apart

On most days these dandelions remain tame and wait for their one day to see the weekly light. That one day for which comfort is found when all they have to wrap around is themselves. Always existing, but subdued. Now that existence pronounces itself

Today they stand with grace, like giants

Today little alien children are tearring my stomach apart. Attempted remedies have only rendered worst. It now hurts to drink water

These alien children also love to torment the mind. They listen to my silly thoughts and whisper their lies

If such torment becomes bearable I'll find myself a dandelion

Situation New[edit | edit source]

First bit is free association of Beck's muffled Mutherfucker. I wasn't done though, so I trailed19:24, 24 August 2009 (UTC)

Shrugs your arm; whole in a spasm. Strung out through. Numb from bottom; feet too low. Sharp slit sheathed. Cramps your spine; cranked clockwork neck. I'm afraid your face won't fit my head. Open your sharp eyes; the lights are off. Never ever leave here again. The door is open, but you're still locked in. The floor is gone. Limbs all flying; cracking twigs before cracking

Sitting in a park[edit | edit source]

I came across some drink and some paper and some pencil and some write12:39, 3 July 2009 (UTC)

This paper was found sitting in a park sitting in a park sitting in a park sitting in a park

Slightly long winded way of saying iced cappuccinos are cool[edit | edit source]

20090630 Written after my first exposure to coffee01:42, February 20, 2011 (UTC)

Dreams of iced cappuccino vaguely quiver in the cold on a small rotten log of blankets left outside for dying swans who sing of unheard songs which were abandoned for the intangible lies which spiders weave within sleeping heads during the hush of dusks left unobserved in partial due of unobservance and in remainder due of deobservance which results from the observance of that which need not be observed when there are greater things to be experienced in the thick fog of open system existence which ensnares the fearful to a most wicked turmoil of unfruitful labors left undone when being done in the fashion unprescribed by alley fearing psychotics who sell insanity for faltering sunlight and ensure a full moon for all the little people being squished under the feet of growing afflictions fed with broken wheels which are manufactured in the shadier parts of the neon factory built atop sawed off hands full of bloating muscles that rot without releasing wield upon the unsafe civility that caused the unfortunate inevitability of revenge rebelled against lost rebel who demands already implemented solutions to problems still being implemented by the slaves of renegade lords found guilty of having no place to stay and too many places to go

This story sucks[edit | edit source]

Why does it suck? You tell me. Except I already know. Because it is spam. Spam in the land of spam sucks by default. And then it isn't really a story, but a self referencing thing that died before it was even created. So why am I creating it? Because I'm not13:01, 6 November 2008 (UTC)

Spawn[edit | edit source]

I wanted to write something00:59, 26 April 2008 (UTC)

There in the sky, flying above, is the highest mountain. It isn't really a high mountain, more the highest a mountain has ever flown. For it is the flight which causes the great mountain to soar across, shouting out the orders of above:

"We case our demands and demand that you do as we say. We say all we want, or we won't say what we say. Get out, now"

Of course, the folk are chilled. Here, the mountain they had come to love, had simply rose to the land of God. They bow down, praying grace

"We state our statements and demand that you call out not for he who has left thee, for it is our will that you simply get out, now"

And the folk cry. Even beside the little mountain they are little. And it being so high, the folk look even more little then they had just a few hours ago

And there the folk turn back; urgent to run. But it is too late, and the mountain is letting the might of the rock fall upon them

"Disobediance has no virtue in the hands of the dead. Get out, now"

And the creepies drifted, landing in their wisp like form, reaching out with their small tendrils to sow the land. The earth glows a pale blue. The folk, half crushed, stares in disbelief. They are who the mountain has chosen to wed? Oh, what awful people they must have been. To have angered it so that it would not wrap around them and lul them with the great breadth of warmth it had once had. No, they had mistreated it. And now, it bore new children

"These are my children, reckless children. Get out, now"

But the folk refused. Not after seeing them. And it was there that the mountain descended, crushing the folk who could not bear their brothers

"Goodbye, oh reckless children"

Darwin's Coward[edit | edit source]

Random thoughts deserve random stories01:46, 8 November 2007 (UTC)

The flat road, watched the children stand. For there they saw across the land and from which they waited, glaring at each other in the eye. A quarrel had brought them here this oh so very day, in which one would prove a chicken, and the other a brave

And there it happened, each standing there, that a passing car did just that. One took flight, away they cried at their own demise of cowardice while the other stood now only making leap to move at the thrashing of death's crash

Photon[edit | edit source]

I decided to write a random scifi under 1KB. Of course, everybody decided to chant on about how it made no sense. Be great to see the response they'd get if they went on about how unscientific a fantasy story was16:07, 24 June 2008 (UTC)

The lights were dim, hope had been lost and the world was slient. For in this light of day, the moon was larger in view than ever had been seen

DrParks had been working on a gravitational thesis when he discovered the potential of innate gravitational force. Taking a sphere of glass which had been rounded to the whole of pi, a single photon was set into motion within it. Curving about the edge, the glass had shattered and the photon had vanished through time

Now, a year later, the photon was captured in the moon. For the orbit of the earth had made it so that when the photon traversed the universe's perfectly spherical time, the earth had displaced so that the moon was where the glass had shattered. The moon had taken the photon's gravitational force and now the earth was being pulled into it

All they could do was cry

Melodrama[edit | edit source]

Someone spammed the first line, Nonimportant expanded it and I completed it (I also added comments if you care to understand the onomatopoeia)16:07, 24 June 2008 (UTC)

Dunt dunt, dunt dunt da daaa! Tap, tap, tap, tap... Knocknocknock... knock knock ??? Smack!...SLAP! OOUCH! N1K4N1K49D0025! ChiChy... WTF???NOEZ!!! BFAMZ! Lawl!PWND!!! ChiChy... ??? BFAMZ! AIEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY ZOMG!!!a...aa....AHHHHHHHHHHHH! LMFAO!!!PWND! Bibqua? mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... ...Bibqua? ChiChy !BIBQUA!!! BFAMZ! BIKUAEY!!! ShiShyShiShy...SheriShyShiShy MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!

CtrlZ[edit | edit source]

A poem I wrote for my mother's birthday. She always says "I didn't want to do that" while playing tetris16:16, 24 June 2008 (UTC)

The lizard liked pie
The lizard liked lots of pie
The lizard liked lots and lots of pie
The lizard ate the pie
The lizard died
The lizard didn't wanna do that
How they did so not wish for CtrlZ to work not
So that which is is not which it is, but that which it was
But so that which is is which it is, and not that which it was

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