| Old work of mine ^ Feel free to enjoy them. |


Flash Fiction 23.9.09Flash Fiction for 23rd of September 2009 By Martin KewishFlash Fiction 23.9.09
Prompt: Funeral on a cliff
A large mountain range stood tall over the peaceful valley that nested below. Ragnar had always loved the valley, but never for the reasons he should. He loved it for the protection it gave to his people, the powerful walls it offered to the outside world. He did not love it for the grass is had or the farmable land is bore, no, Ragnar just loved it for the protection.
That had always been his problem, he knew that. Always thinking about how the honour bound Skamon had drove into battle with their weapons drawn, no


Flash Fiction 22.9.09Flash Fiction for 22nd of September 2009 By Martin KewishFlash Fiction 22.9.09
Prompt: A Shell of Blue Luminosity.
It was within his eyes I saw it first, which was never quite understandable. He moved like an angel with that pen, but also like a demon looking to get out from the cage from which it was born into. I never expected for him to go this far, for him to actually escape. That is not to say I mind working with him, but I always felt like there was this force within in that I could never match up to. But I refuse to let such stupid things bother me; it did not bother him right?
People always used to pick him out


Barnaby the BardBarnaby the Bard Written by: Martin Kewish This is the first story in the Spirited short story trilogy Finished on 27th of June 2009Barnaby the Bard
The dwarfs always loved there bars, even if they were the most run down places you would find in the dwarfen empire. The four walls that held up the bar were rotting away and the cracks allowed small clumps of dirt to drop from the ceiling and fall into the drinks of the customers. Not that many people minded really, it was a dwarfen bar after all.
The drinks were flowing and the small groups of short, muscle bound men tried desperately to talk louder than the group n


Blood for BeliefBlood for Belief By Martin KewishBlood for Belief
I had never seen the ring so quiet. The rows of stone seats that laced the outer line of the arena were packed, yet not a single cheer erupted from them. The only sound was that of the gates we they slowly edged open, the holy order was waiting only centre meters behind the darkness of the dungeon.
A single figure stood tall in the centre of the dusty, blood stained arena. His jet black hair and his simple brown tunic stood as the only thing he and the crowd shared. His soft blue eyes slowly moved from side to side, watching the men assemble with perfection. It was then that a
| Old work of mine ^ Feel free to enjoy them. |


Sonnet I: FreedomAlthough tears wet my skin like bitter dew,Sonnet I: Freedom
and muscles falter 'neath their heavy load, if legs should fail, I'll stand anew,
wipe clean my face and walk the road.
If fate and desp'rate men should stay my stride,
and should the fist of chaos close around, I shall stand tall and calm and fight with pride, and journey on to whither I am bound.
If I'm told to bow before a tyrant's might, I'll continue as my journey began,
a firm and measured pace towards the light,
and shall not bend my neck for any man.
I'll fight and never shall this world break me,
for I am


The Legacy of St. JohnClaire had only joined because she had to. The school Judo club had wanted someone first aid trained, and she'd volunteered because, well, volunteering for things - showing willing - was about all she did well. From first aid training she'd been suckered into joining the organisation proper. The St. John's Ambulance Service.The Legacy of St. John
And now she spent her weekends sitting around in a draughty tent on the outskirts of Parson's Field, kept company by an assorted group of middle aged, knitwear-loving bores, while the rest of her class enjoyed the amusements of the fairground parked on the grass. It would be doing the group she spent t


Mr Griffin's WarSandra was worried about George. It had been two years, but he still seemed drawn in on himself, unwilling to talk to friends or neighbours or even his own wife. She left him to it most of the time, and spent her days tending to the garden. That was what you did in retirement wasn't it? Tend to the garden.Mr Griffin's War
But the garden at the back of their small semi-detached house was dying, despite everything she could do. She listened to Gardener's Question Time on the radio, she assiduously spread compost while trying not to think about what was in it, she re-potted and pruned, but the garden was withering.
It was all she cou


From the Archives: Anti-TrustWell, the Revolution happened, but not in the manner that any vaguely ideological could have predicted 100 years before. The great war, the thermonuclear destruction that was to have been the harbinger of either the resurrection of a utopian human race, or the genesis of a bestial existence in a desolate, post-holocaust world, never materialised. The ageing and antiquated weapons of mass destruction remained moth-balled in their silos, their launch codes forgotten; now nothing more than a poignant reminder of the quaint days when military might was thought to be equivalent to power and influence. A weapon was discovered or, perhaps, rediscoveFrom the Archives: Anti-Trust
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There are no bored people only lazy people
A BIG THANK TO =psivamp for the cute avatar she made me :grope:
hows that book your workingn going anyway
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~Midnight Moonchild~
You have persuaded me beyond reason and I will subject myself to being fulfilled.
Hurrah for brilliantly thought characters, plots, for scalpels and clean kills.
Glad you popped in!
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...My eyes are drawn only to you. You mesmerize me...
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Let the winds of change engulf you.
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"Write, & find ecstasy in writing! Work, & be our bed in working! Thrill with the joy of life & death! Ah! thy death shall be lovely: whososeeth it shall be glad... Come! lift up thine heart & rejoice!." Liber AL vel Legis, 2:66.
Lucky Writing!
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dA is for the literary arts, too.
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Let me tell you a story, a story to change the eyes from which you see, the heart from which you feel and the world from which you live.
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