Cracked Coathanger

Native Void was surrounded on all sides by the infernal legion, but the encroachment of it on his circle of woe that budded up on all sides as it negotiated with the ebb of swirling energy making its way to the cavern of the curved exterior of the scouting party charged with delivering tonics and dried meats to the camp of hunters across the outpost overlooking the riverswept gorge from where the band of devils were making their time swapping emblems of ebb by which the circle's magic barrier undulated with the base of the circle.

Just as the Void spotted an escape and began moving to gorge, the infernal legion made a twitch and opened a labrynth of whirpools flooding the angle of flight from the cacatenations of the their march opposite the path of the waylaid supply party. Pulling their persons onto the bank several minutes later, they dragged themselves to sparse trees overlooking the shadows of eddies and foam of the river carrying off the leaves of a gale now descending upon the now at ease encampment.

Finding shade in the oaks, they pondered how the leaves fell upon what remained of the ebb of the ward that now released only a glint of curvature from the drifting leaves. They rested here imbibing the spray of the eddies and relaxing to the procession of leaves to the invisible far edge of the river's flow. What was found in the descent of leaves to the shadow of the obscuring tree was that they released the twirling of leaves only when the posture of their watch downstream cast a parallax on the shadow and the oak leaves adorning the mane of shelter afforded by the gyrating dance of trailing glue from the nether abandon marinating its spinning symmetry.

The Subject of Presumption

Edward Raynar sat pining for his parents looking forlornly out a window. Even though he was in a sullen mood his features were acute and intent with the wit of a penetrating intellect. He bore his cheek letting out a sigh as he considered the fiery features that the sun fell upon. His sister Maria of one year younger was drawing with pastels. Every once in a while she would make a mark inspired by Edward's handsome frame against his chair. Though he was contemplating what he would tell their parents on their return she was secretely chronicling their whole afternoon in the easle of their drawing room.

She could not see the objects of her brother's interest as he looked out upon the expansive yard and neighbors homes' across the street. As she drew she evoked worlds of spirits at play making subtle kisses upon the world as it falls upon the canvas of its terrific mind.

As she meditated on another line across the valley of colors something about the screw of her glasses caught her brother's attention and he turned to her and without impressing the enunciation of his comment remarked that reasons of Nature do not talk to fashion in an event but rather as a chat in the sentiment of the intent of divinity's spark across the discovery of sacred popularizations. Upon hearing this laud, she straightened her back and ejaculated that she had never heard of the discovery of sentiment nor given it any thought in the facets of her life or recoil of its conversement of his interlocution.