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Diamonds Under the Dirt Ch1The Need
Nourishing sunlight boiled the skin on the back of the king's neck, patiently cooking it to an eventual hearty red. He knelt in a barren field at the centre of a worried gathering, his knees digging into the dirt under the pressure of his body weight. Of middling age and brown in colour and disposition, King Alsofir was generally considered an aggressive, if deep-thinking, ruler. He grasped a handful of dirt in one hand, staring it down as though it were a stubborn opponent in a game of chess.
It was a sickly combination of white and grey, hard and dry, and as he picked it apart to nothing, he found the dessicated corpse of a worm. "And you say it has been such throughout the land?" he asked or the gathered farmers.
The nearest, a gangly man with ginger whiskers, grunted affirmation. "Nothing will grow. My cows have begun to starve."
"Aye, and mine as well."
Similar comments rose up, until the king held u
Dialogue PractisePAIRS [GG?] /DIALOGUE EXERCISE
Tonic, paired to Gin
Pepper, paired to Salt
Fish, paired to Chips
Tonic: Alright, we're finally here. Now let's remind ourselves of what's important here.
Fish: *groans softly* Would that be lunch? Because none of us have eaten in two days.
Pepper: Two and a half days. But who's counting?
Tonic: *exasperated* Are either of you two knuckleheads listening? I'm trying to--
Fish: Of course we're listening, Tonic. It's just hard to think about what we're listenin' to when I can hardly hear you over my stomach.
Tonic: Pepper, would you talk some sense into this guy?
Pepper: No can do, boss. He's not old enough for it to take.
Tonic: *growls* Fine. It's up to me, as usual.
Fish: Just give us some food and you can have your precious order.
Tonic: *unintelligible grumbling, sound of cloth and paper rustling* Here, this is what's left of
ExhaustedLethargy sneaks upon me, like a monster in the dark. The monster that is the dark. It is a greedy thing, taking without regrets or even guidelines. It steals time, offers nothing in return, and hasn't even the sentience to glee over its bloodless victory.
Is it the weather? There is none. Snow clumps on the ground, old and stale with ice crystals that shine despite the ugliness of unpopularity. No one likes it here. I don't blame them.
There shouldn't be so much fatigue, so much dragging of skin from my bones with hard, unrelenting fingers. Pain wracks my muscles, but relief would come at the cost of more tiredness.
O, unwelcome sleep, overtake me.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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