″‘Your soul is a beautiful thing, child.’ replied the grave man’s voice, ‘and I thank you. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept to-night.”
What’s one insane childhood lore you have? Personally I still remember eating the dog food, mom even put the container up high and to prevent me from grabbing it but I somehow found my way to it and then hid it under the slide. I guess that’s what makes me… Me.
The world’s almost over, the universe is in literal shambles but Lord and His mercy sent forth our debut as an apology. Hearken to His divine call, for blessed are those chosen to receive! (In short.. stay tuned)
control levers, throttles, circuit breaker and overhead panels, pedals, oxygen masks, emergency flashlight, cockpit windows, and at last, a coffee thermos.
Ah, a cup of coffee might solve several problems right now.
I have to move. The sand has already claimed too much of me, what with all this scraped bloody, my windpipe ragged and my mouth full of sands. Each shuffle toward the crash site is a grim bet against my failing carcass,
The dashboard is a wreckage of lenses and deformed meters, their readings seared into illegibility. Certain indicators remain petrified and trapped eternally on that lethal instant. My findings around it also contain flight manuals and checklist cards, navigation charts,
Where is God, even if he doesn’t exist? I want to pray and to weep, to repent of crimes I didn’t get to commit, to enjoy the feeling of winning in terms to who lasted longer in life. I thought I’d outlive him.
The mention of Mortimer Pierce’s funeral drags me back to that dismal orphanage whence it all commenced. We were plucked from obscurity—my twin brother Hanno and I—though those infernal adoptive vultures claimed they required but a single offspring.