1000-His Highness and the Prophet

I can’t find the picture that inspired this.
It was pretty intense.
If you see it, let me know!

Dagga shuddered and looked away from the picture. The whole scene, depicted in somber greys, murky blues and vivid, sinister orange, was shudder worthy.

“I’m convinced of it.” Fiera said, running her white gloved hand across the frame again. “This is the same as my dream. It’s the prophecy!” Continue reading

Some Feelings. (Which are not dumb.)

I hadn’t realized that my need for affirmation, the need to be respected and loved, was so strong. It’s always felt like the wishy-washy teenager-in-a-bad-movie motive. I can understand why I feel that way. There’s a lot in my culture about being independent, about not caring about what other people think about you, and about, I guess, how there is this basic arrogance that all stable people have which allows them to not need love or approval. And how that’s good. Continue reading