Day 280

A pleasant reminder that, true, this can be difficult.

This doesn't mean it can't also be fun.

Day 279

An artists bio:

Mark Shmarkamark is a blark from Shpark park, Malark.
He's been Fark in Jark and Jark in Fark!
He hopes you enjoy tonight's presentation of Snark, and remember: "whatever your Vlark, don't forget to ZARK!"

Day 278

Another 3 word horror story

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  .

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      .

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          .

        .

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         .

        d

        n

           u                                                   

                o                                              D

                     r                        t                     o

                         a                 u                         n

                                          r                          '

                                       n                         t

Day 277

Another adult monster!

Okay. This one is sneaky and is particularly troublesome because of the creature's sense of timing.
It has a body made of soft silk, so you barely notice when it sneaks up to you, so tender it is.
The creature has a long harm with a retractable hand, like the arms you find on a claw machine in old arcades.
The creature get's close to you in times of comfort, like when your settling down in bed, or lounging on the couch watching tv.
It's silk body sidles up to you, maintaining your sense of comfort, then with it's claw hand: it reaches into the back of your head and grabs ahold of one of the many thoughts you have tucked away in the recesses of your mind.
The arm then pulls the thought up and out of your skull, before dropping it on your chest.
You can no longer sleep, nor enjoy the show, because you are suddenly faced with an existential conundrum you'd forgotten you were worried about. And will now spend hours fretting over.
I can't remember this little guys name.
But he's an @ssh0le that feeds on sleepless nights, and million mile stairs.

Day 276

Hopeful three word story:

There's
still
time   :-)

Day 275

Three word horror story:


                          I'M



                          NOT
                


                          DEAD!!!!!!!!!

Day 274

"When exactly did you start thinking you could save the world?"

"When did you start thinking you couldn't?"

Day 273

When you scratch at my cerebrum like that; do you know you're doing it?
I "No" scratch once. If "yes" stop long enough for me to sleep.
...

Day 272

A monster becomes a judge.
Not through magic, science or some other craft.
Simply because those with power want it so.
And so: it is.
But with this transformation comes a lesson.
This mockery of justice does not transform justice itself.
We see it is wrong and know it to be wrong. We know this.
They can lie to us, but we will not lie to ourselves.
A monster may become a judge, but in doing so does not become less a monster.
And with his supposed transfiguration: our sense of empathy, decency and humanity is not shook.
It cannot be. Because we can no longer trust those that we once expected to uphold these values.
We must hold ourselves together.

Day 271

Outside the gates of the city - where sociopolitical collapse, climate change, rebellion, civil war and nasty language was all going on - a grown sits.
He plays with toys he long ago outgrew, in games with no clear winner or loser.
He does this in earshot of all the chaos.
He had originally stepped out in the hopes of finding a solution, away from the problem.
But the more he thought about it, the more the problem seemed to big to handle.
So he didn't.
He sat and played.
It is not a good story.
Not a triumphant story.
It is not a story.
It simply is.

Day 270

A wearied soul leans up against a bus stop shelter.
The five minute wait time should read eternity.
The nine stops between this place and theirs should be in miles.
The distant percussive of the city scape, never fully felt but ever present, should just be a metronome.
Tick, click, swivel, and scrape and
the buzzing of the streetlamps should be a human hum.
Hmmmm. Hmmmm. Hmmmm.
And the wearied soul, should let weariness go, and show off the rest on their blistered soles
as a beat. Beat. Beat. Atapapa.
Hmmmmm-mmmhmm.
Step. Step.
Hmmmmm-mmmhmm.
Step. Together. Step. Together.
Hmmmmm-mmmhmm.
Step slide. Step slide
Twirl. STOMP!
Y'see even in this urban jungle. The steel-glass sea, where the weather varies:
from manic to oppressive
labyrinthine to depressive
depricating to e-e-excessive
We are, all of us, ever ready - ever eager - ever steady to step out of still sobriety, and step into something a lil more wacky
Flappy, angles and elevations, quakes -shakes, restabilization.
Sure we invented straight lines, knives and 9 to fives,
But we also created slinkys shake your tail feather nights and locomotion needs some motion, and motion's in emotion cause we can be moved even standing still!
At any moment of a moment, pre post or middle, we find we're going to break out and move to the music
because we're no longer worried or hurried about missing out on the next flurry of street cars coming or that shuttle coming soon and dancing's not the most direct means of transportion, but without a doubt or speculation I can vouch it being more fun then any modern relocation its-
PSHHH.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Kshhhhhh.
"Please wait for other passengers to exit, before entering the bus."
Step. Step.
Close.
VROOOOOOOoooooooooommmmm...........