She sat alone, moving a dress through a needle that pumped up and down. It was just a simple stitch job, but she was grateful for anything. She daydreamed about the days when she and her seven sisters all sat in the building, creating beautiful custom wedding gowns for giddy brides.
The trail wound through a diverse landscape, ducking in and out of forests and open spaces. It was the perfect place for him to ride his bike for miles and be completely undisturbed by humanity.
“The mountain has a living heart,” they said. It can feel—love, cry, hold a grudge. And the keeper of its heart dwells within it. An adventurer and explorer, Daniel Hollow had to know if it was true.
Marching down the sidewalk with our Student Conduct Handbooks in our right hands, I spot something skipping across the ground. As I get closer to it, I can see it has writing on it. Trash is rare, but artifacts from before the wars are even more so. I have to have it.
She opened her eyes. A bright light was blaring down at her, concealing the rest of the room behind a curtain of darkness. Her ankles and wrists were trapped under thick straps. She struggled to free her right hand from its strap but paused when a silhouetted figure blocked out a portion of the light.
Memories of being a student here, mostly of running to his classes, flooded his mind. They had hailed him as a child prodigy, a genius who chose their school above all the others, making him attend and speak at event after event.