From where they stood the judge’s cowl was brilliant–flashing with a panoply of hues as the final decision was transmitted into the aether with extravagant flourish.
The anus of the mechanical monster seemed to be designed for standard rather than metric.
Two fighters walked into the wide, cracked landscape. One with a fist made of unholy destruction, the other with a skull made from solid righteousness.
Interior circulating fans stopped. The walls were sweating. Tendrils grew. Soon there was enough force to break the bars.
Once in the Library they realized they knew none of the languages and the volumes were organized by fragrance.
Entrance to the castle was protected by three guards, each with an insidious conundrum and predictable microaggressions.
Groundskeepers emerged suddenly from a platform, scooping up all the orphans into a gigantic sack.
The top layer was mostly sweat. However, the service was excellent.
Bark had grown up around the entire complex, and he thought if he could cut it all in half he might be able to count the rings.
Inside the garret the celebrated philosopher morosely ate a transcendental sandwich.
The sign over the door had the word “Perpetual” written in large red letters.
Before the race they signed the wager with a pen made of human bone. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said.
Adjutants Of The Realm were by tradition required to respond only with questions.
He left work defeated, immediately headed to the airport, no one ever saw him again.
The well in the center of town started talking one day. The first thing it asked for were the virgins.