(*Note* This is very work related and if any one has any questions about this, I shall explain it further.)


The Hallowed BladeThe Hallowed BladeThe Hallowed Blade
It wouldnt be long now. The few more minutes of waiting would finally end, giving Michael enough time to get in and get out and on with his life, at least ten gold richer. Should his plan succeed hed be on the go without anyone noticing what was happening, but if someone did noticed, happened to look at him, well Michael gave a glum half-smile. He might just have to kill that person. At any rate, people were going to die- it just mattered when. Timing was crucial in this line of work and was the factor linking life and death.


700 Years700 Years 23 January, 2009700 Years
Arthur Proudmoore was the most celebrated movie director of his time. Within the past thirty years he had directed more than twenty movies, half of which were nominated for prestigious awards including Oscars and various others, four of which had won Best Director and five had won Best Picture of the Year. Proudmoore had been inducted into the movie Hall of Fame when he was only thirty-seven years old and had a star on the Hall of Fame. He was known throughout the business as being the go to man of how to become a successful director and a master storyteller; six of


The Persistence of MemoryThe Persistence of MemoryThe Persistence of Memory
Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: do I wake or sleep? -John Keats, Ode to a Nightingale The road was dark. It was night in the woods and only the moon shone down on the car as it sped through the trees, the headlights penetrating the fog which nuzzled up against the car as it raced through the darkness. It was quiet out, and only the car made any noise.
Inside the car it was different. Jayden was sitting silently as her father drove, and she stared out the passenger window,
--
"My hand thinks I'm an artist, but my heart knows i'm a poet." -Bright Eyes
Previous PageNext Page