White Weewoos don't exist. *shifty eyes* |
Circulation: 192,452,307 |
Issue: 644 | 9th day of Hunting, Y16 |
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Headlines "Life's A Stage" by opossumman The clattering of freshly-polished copper pieces resonated sonorously through the musty old room like a chorus of wedding bells. Wrenches rattled; cogs began to turn and tumble. The machine had once again been made functional. Given life, if you will. This was all in a day's work for Jacob, however. He brushed off his sweat-covered brow with his paw and adjusted his goggles...
Other Stories
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The Golden Quill: Part One All she could hear was the rain beating on the windows. Her mind was oddly distant, given that she was writing a memoir of her past.
by ewagon |
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