Lights blare through the dome ceiling that encapsulates our city to protect us from the harsh environment of RECO 17. I like pretending that they are stars or moons, blazing across the sky of a planet that spins at twice the speed of our home world, Earth.
Two minutes until everyone would forget the mistakes they had made the previous year and look forward with renewed hope. But not her. In two minutes, she would begin remembering what happened one year ago at the same time and location where she now stood.
Quincy took a deep breath and reached for the stack of cards, struggling to keep his eyes focused enough to guide his hand. He had entered the tavern with 18 pieces. Now, most of it was either in his bottle or on the table.
Tree limbs scrape my face as I dash through a dense forest. Glancing over my shoulder, I can see nothing in the fog, but I can hear their dogs closing in on me. I pick up my pace to a treacherous speed.
His poetry had found its way all over the world but not from his voice. Inspired by the stories of desperate castaways, he began slipping short poems into an empty bottle and tossing them into the bay. They floated along currents, changed course in storms, and came to rest in the hearts of thousands.
Tillius Whitehall jotted down notes as fast as he could. He was the only one allowed to interview the trolls, and he wanted to make certain he accurately conveyed their grievances to the public. “So, Mr. Boggledung, are you saying that your people have never eaten any humans?”