October 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, & 7th


At the lip of the cliff near the coast, the granite arched up into the sky on tiers of its own thick rock before passing off into nothing to drop to the sea.

William kept his hands at his sides and enjoyed the air, the dry and cold ocean gusts mixed with breaks of intense, direct warmth from the sun. Underfoot were broken and bent strands of coarse dune grass that broke through the rocks turned to sand to grab the light by the ocean. They poked and tickled the rough of his soles like hay.

Today was his birthday. His present to himself was to be naked.


"Morgan Freeman"




"Richard's Autumn Apple"

Crap, he said, as the fruit tumbled into the gravel by the road.




"The Rite of the Sun Eater"

The ink black of the desert landscape burned cold in the arid night of the third moon. The purple of the sky pressed flat against the line of the horizon with a weight that pushed the rocks into deep holes in the dry dirt. Added was a silence in the atmosphere that could be brought down in hands like wet cloth and balled up into a massive thing, a heavy thing worth holding and noting and measured.

It was his night, his rite. Staring off into the east, the older man breathed slow and regular. His eyes fixed on a point and watched the gentle shift of light sift upward as sugary purple gave way to blood red. Gold leaked up and through the air in streams as the nearest star tickled the edge of the world.

Hot white exploded in the east, giving way to a tremendous pop of light!


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