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[PI] Tales of the Living MuseumThe Cockatrice in the Basement
I knocked on the door of Hartley's office and sauntered in without waiting for a response. Probably a bit rude, but what the heck. Looked like I caught him off-guard too, he seemed to be looking for another pen. "I have my findings," I announced. I'd spent the night in the museum, as he requested, and found, well, nothing actually, but Hartley didn't know that. Truth was, the museum was just in need of some maintenance, hence all the strange noises that had been, ah, 'reported'. I sat myself in the chair opposite Hartley's desk like I had done before and cleared my throat. May as well make the most of it, right?
"I have come to the conclusion," I began, sounding as official as possible, "That this museum, is, indeed, haunted." The look on his face! Ha ha! Oh this was going to be fun. "During my stay overnight at the museum, I witnessed many peculiar happenings. The moving of inanimate objects, disappearing figures, bodiless voices, etcetera. Now, t
[PI] Long Story, Short.Bugs Alive!
Emrys didn't like bugs; it was a known fact, so one had to wonder what he was doing here. He was actually wondering that same. But one has to go through the whole of the museum if he wishes to learn. He grimaced as he tried not to think about it and moved on as quickly as he could.
Or, he would've done, had the door not swung shut on him as he went to leave. He frowned, deciding whoever had shut the door on him was extremely rude, and went to push the door open.
Except, it didn't open. There was a CLUNK as the door refused to budge as Emrys pushed at it. "Locked? But it's too early," he said. Oh, no, wait. He must've have spent longer in the medieval section than he wanted.
But then, horrifyingly, it occurred to him where he was. He was trapped, in a room full of his worst nightmare. His skin crawled and he wheeled around, checking that a horde of the beastly things hadn't escaped. They hadn't. And they wouldn't. But that wasn't what Emrys' panic-stricken brai
Black Dragon's Return"What do you mean, 'no'?"
Spyro sighed, he should've known this wouldn't go down well. "It's exactly what it means, Jennu, I'm not saying it again."
"But I was supposed to be at Shu's two days ago! And I'm already behind on my work for the dragons!" Jennu moaned. He was already backlogged and Master Shu would kill him for his absence; he'd be on starve training for weeks.
"I don't care. You admitted it yourself, this work's been piling up on you, it's about time you took a break." Shifting into a dragon unwillingly was a sure sign of exhaustion, Spyro knew that better than anyone.
"But I won't have anything to do!"
"I never said you'd have nothing to do," Spyro interjected, managing to stay patient.
"What do you mean?"
"You're going into training."
"Training?" Jennu was interested. Training was one of his favourite words.
"Mm. Your involuntary shifting yesterday needs to be seen to, you need to be taught how to control it."
"So you're gonna teach me?"
"No, Malsvir is."
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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