Adventure
I swear She Was Fae
There is a hierarchy to Public Transportation in Melbourne. Any of the three modes can take you anywhere. The more obscure, specific, or remote your destination, the greater the chance you will need to use a combination that involves the less sophisticated, more occupied, and much more uncomfortable versions of transport the farther out you get. The Bus, being the "illegitimate bastard with a surname befitting the region" of the three transportation modes, will take you anywhere. They go everywhere and can be in places that their larger siblings have access to but would rather not be associated with. This also means that anyone can access them, from anywhere, and so you get the most colorful smattering and varied cesspool of life on Melbourne's buses. When all else fails, when the wheels come off, and the other modes come off the rails (literally. Not even joking.) they shove us all onto buses. They smell, they're loud, they're often damp for no reason, and the air con doesn't work when it should. Nor does the heat work when you want it to. The posted capacity on a bus is 60 people. The actual capacity has been physically proven to exceed 150. It is a mode that every Melbournian ends up having to endure at some point in their life, for one reason or another; it immediately ends up becoming a life goal to never, EVER, find yourself in a circumstance that will leave you having to possibly rely on a bus for any reason, EVER again, so help you, God. Yes, my time relying on the bus as a regular mode of transport may have been short, but it left a fucking impression. I will not speak of that here.
By Erika Savage4 years ago in Fiction
jack of diamonds
BOOK TWO UNDER THE WITCH’S MOON CHAPTER 24 Nigel had always been one to enjoy the sunrise. He sometimes thought it was the one thing he took with him from his childhood. He'd often find himself drawn to the brilliant colours staining the sky, with all their combining shades and hues, sometimes feeling as if Nature’s palette were commanding him to paint her—just drop what you’re doing and paint me—draped as she was in a veil of mist. He enjoyed looking at the clouds as much as any child looking for dragons, or horses might, seeing shapes and columns in the billowing billows, endlessly towering towers, all rolling and strolling across the sky. He liked to sit and enjoy the morning with a warm cup of tea and buttery toast, habitually dipping the toast into his tea and sucking on it until it dissolved in his mouth.
By ben woestenburg4 years ago in Fiction
The Secrets of Moonshine
Chapter One THE ARRIVAL Lightning lit the sky just long enough to transform the bus window into a mirror, allowing Bronwyn a muted glimpse at her reflection. Disgusted, she turned away, refusing to look at the scowl carved into her face. She sighed, taking her frustration out on her pillow, punching it several times, before trying to move into a more relaxed position.
By Denise Parton4 years ago in Fiction
The Treasure of Atlantis
The morning after the storm, the boy headed for the beach to look for the remains. The sun emits a soft light on the beach, transforming a melted seabed into a kaleidoscopic splash of color - red and yellow, green and blue, a rainbow of pieces of plastiglomerate glistening in the light, like strips of paint scattered on a sandy soil.
By Rajya laxmi4 years ago in Fiction
Fear Is the Tool of Totalitarians': Ron Paul on War, Money
'Dread Is the Device of Authoritarians': Ron Paul on War, Cash, and the Freedom supporter Second I hate legislators. I have zero faith in individuals who are so frantically anxious to run others' lives.
By hirusandutyre distributours4 years ago in Fiction
Meditation, Mindfulness, and Mirror Realms
Most people can deal with the stress of daily life, but I’m not one of those people. I have my fair share of personal demons, usually in the form of drugs and alcohol, but at a certain point not even numbing myself works.
By Bradley Ramsey4 years ago in Fiction
The Butcher on the Corner
Thunder crashed all over the city. Cracking its whip like a cruel master over men. One by one, the lights went out as people locked up their shops and tried falling asleep to the pitter-patter of the heavy rain. Only a few souls, seldom as they seem wandered around the streets at such an hour. Such souls tend to have little to go home to, or maybe something pulling them, an obligation of sorts, out in dreary conditions. Whatever their reason, whatever opinions they held on the matter, it never changed the fact that they had to wander out in a score of rain and thunderous clamor.
By Rambler's Society4 years ago in Fiction
How I Became a Super Villain part 4
Jim and I spend the rest of the day working together. In each class, we're paired up and expected to help each other out. I'll admit I'm actually surprised at how much Jim knows and that he's smarter than how he presents himself. I don't know why I'm surprised, except that perhaps he's put on such a good show of being a certain type of super villain that I haven't expected he'd actually be smarter than I thought. And maybe that, in and of itself, speaks volumes to just how smart he is.
By Taylor Ellwood4 years ago in Fiction
eye of the beholder
Detective Rhea Townsend sat down at her desk with a heavy sigh. She hated the cases with dead kids – especially when the primary suspects were kids too. Rhea hated putting kids behind bars, but she knew that sometimes it was unavoidable. Murder can’t go unpunished, she thought to herself. She had just gotten back from the crime scene, and her stomach wouldn’t be the same for days. There was such hatred and anger in that scene – so much emotion, passion, and desperation. It was all so... teenage. Rhea’s concentration was broken by the deep tones of her partner, Darren Apollo.
By Persephone Stylet4 years ago in Fiction
