Raving Stories

An short, uncovered journal entry written by Rayman, describing his horrible time in the clutches of the Rabbids. How he feels, his time in slavery, his motives, and generally how it felt to be a lowly gladiator to the abominations that are the Rabbids. Read this story to find out what really happened behind the bars. Warning: Contains murder and mild blood and gore

~This is a fictional story told through journal entries. Nadia is a seventeen year old girl in high school. She has not been exactly a 'people person' since the occurrence of her mother's death, she likes to keep mostly to herself though she has a great passion for techno and lives a regular club life in the city of Denver Colorado. All Nadia knows and truly loves is music, but a change in social connection through means of a modest yet intriguing raver boy is soon at hand and will begin molding Nadia into the person that she herself does not perhaps even know she longs to be. ~

In which Rosemund Pike is trapped in her own mind.

Just saying what most of us are probably thinking. Hate it or lov eit I don't really care. Tea time bitches!

I am horrible descriptions

J.O.E. stands for Journey of Enlightenment. This is the continuation of a journey. Consider it a non-dual inquiry diary. This is real life. Join for the ride of this lovely rant and may you realize no-thing.

An enigmatic threat from the sky. A totalitarian government. One destined to make a change. The ephemeral skies will rain with a new hope.

Just me ranting about certain things going on in life, whether it goes on with me personally, or what I see from the outside. I can probably fill a whole library full of rants, but imma just chill because (ain't nobody got time for that)

"Would you care to hear the stories of a weary traveller, oh my fellow man, before we retire tonight?"

i said I don't use this app but maybe sometimes. On rare occasions

it was more of a lob than a swing with the delicate grace of a slo pitcher, he swiftly swung his arm back and then like a pendulum in mid-motion, he lobbed forward and released the bottle soared- with wings and patience as though guided by lasers - glass bottle and glass windshield met, marbling then took full effect with the splash of the crash the chase is reborn flex is now fury the engine in our old, foreign, little bus came to life with a shrill whine we awkwardly shifted lanes, without sunlight or dry ground to ease our travel our pursuers steadfastly followed suit, the draft from their new opening surely providing enough chill to keep them alert as the memory before the lob is foggy, so too are the memories that follow there were no police chases or hospital visits this time we all must have had our horseshoes firmly inserted that night

It's Raver J & a Cetacean Situation. Artivist flash fiction.

Another 'Sexual Tension Squids' just cos I was asked. I give in to requests eventually. March 2015 until who knows