43 0 0
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My hair is matted — mud, tears, blood — I have lost track
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4100
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Greg Samson opened his eyes. He had never wanted morning so bad, since he had writhed and jerked all night with distressing dreams. Good morning, Georgetown. And yet, something was still not right. His feet and calves hung off the bed's end, and yet his h
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112811
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Once upon a time in the days of old
There lived a poor tailor who- I am told-
Did brag that his daughter
Spun straw into gold!
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19010
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Now it should be mentioned here
This is certainly the time
That Cunegunda lived in Ipswich
A beastly place to rhyme.
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187143
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1. If anybody tells you that this story isn't true they are lying. It is a true story; I am lying if it isn't, and I don't lie. It's the story of me, Ms. Emma Wakeling and the Winter I was holed up with her and her two girls, Noranbole and Urine. What a Winter! It…
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23811
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She was completely naked, yet made no effort to cover herself. And her skin was impossibly porcelain and flawless, an effect only enhanced by the blackness of her waist-length hair....
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22600
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It didn’t take long for a whisper of unhappiness to sweep through the people. Soon the whisper of unhappiness became a whisper of dissent. And a whisper of dissent to turned into a grumble of complaining.
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16333
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Be it near or in a land far far away, be it short or long long ago as once ever was, Sister Hippo grew dissatisfied with the matronly order of her natural beauty and therefore (soon after) caused a package (by special order) to be delivered to her door.
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124776
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She crossed the room to a tub in the center, the great woman with flowing locks of bronze, turning the taps until a heatless white became warm enough to bathe in. She added soap of some kind and the light became the bubbles,…
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