StuntPilotin

Found Unexplored Territory. Used Remains Earth.

I can not find the pastor. I can feel myself dying. Let this be my last confession. May God forgive me.     There once was a rich man living in a castle. He wasn't a good man. A winter came, colder and harder than the winter before. The people in the village below the castle were hungry.  They were asking the man “Please, help us. Our children are dying and we are hungry and cold. Please have mercy.''  But the man said “It is not my fault that your children are dying and that you are hungry and cold.” and sent them away. The winter got worse and it got colder. Only half of the village was left. They went back to the man, th

- Shoes - Buttons - .... ...ran out of man...

You think that under different circumstances and in another life Spades Slick could have been a brilliant pianist. Not in this though, because the sound of guns, explosions and the vaguely disgusting taste of your own blood has become entirely too familiar to allow something like that to happen. He sees it as a weakness and you agree. But still there is something oddly captivating about seeing him like this. His fingers seems to almost float over the keys, every touch creating an almost indistinguishable sequence of tones, slightly echoing in the room. He is sitting in the only chair you haven't completely destroyed and he is staring down

Cunning, Adorable Tyrant ...planning world domination.

Less waiting for the women's restroom!

She is tall. In a former life people had to look up to her. They would still have to, if there was anybody to see her. But I am the only one and most of the time I close my eyes when I feel her coming closer. She is beautiful. At least I think she is. Judged by human standards she probably is. Pale and delicate and fragile. A beautiful, soft whisper of things that once have been. She is shadows now, though. More there than here. Her eyes are misty. I sometimes wonder what she sees. I wonder if she sees the portrait of her. She is in a garden in the picture. Flowers, mostly white roses, a small pond, a cat under the chair she is sitti

Come sit with me and I will tell you the story of the greatest western hero of all time. Okay maybe not the greatest. Or the second greatest. Or third. Actually forgot what I just said... Come sit with me and hear the story of someone who was hero. His name was Daniel Luck and he was a very unlucky man. Things tended to break around him, people tended to get hurt, most of the time him, and so his father had sent him away when he was nineteen with nothing but an old horse who kept biting him and a bag with stale bread and cheese. He lost horse and bread fifteen minutes after he left the farm of his family. All that the bandits had left h

Places, dreamlike. Beauty, unimagined. Camera ... forgotten.

Hopefully not until soon... Eyes close.