Red's DreamI am Red, the unicycle. I am the crimson lone one-wheeled outcast in the crowd of pristine, glamorous bicycles. A distant clap of deep resonant thunder commemorates another steady and full downpour of rain, creating more sickly street puddles and drowning garbage-choked gutters. The urban area is as empty as I feel and a cheap neon bike sign buzzes and blinks for attention, its feebly generated light casting eerie supreme shadows and an orange-red glow. It’s almost as though an imaginary soundtrack of my forlorn existence is being played. It sounds very much like a slow dragging tune of a tenor saxophone with a tone of melancholy, echoin
Starfox: Blackhearts -- Chapter 27Chapter 27: Lance’s Thesis=====From the creator:This entry is no more than a “paper” written to outline all the speculations and inner workings of the Lylat system and other associated civilizations, written by none other than Lance Callahan himself.All information initially addressed in any of the canon video games will be treated as official material, with all the gaps filled in based on these facts combined with basic sociology. Everything you read in here was thought through thoroughly and with painstaking study, using many cultures around Earth as blueprints to fleshing out the entirety of Lylat’s society, and
A New BeginningIt was a cloudy day. It was still dark on the horizon when Kalin came out of the forest for the first time. Kalin was a young member of the B'thesda tribe of anthropomorphic wolves. He was five feet, ten inches tall and covered in brown and light gray fur. He had recently come of age and the elders of the wolf tribe had told him stories about the mysterious ruins that lay outside the forest. The tribe was named after the area: B'thesda. No one knew where the crumbling structures had come from. Kalin decided to find out. He picked up his favorite walking stick and padded down the dirt path out of the forest and into a large clearing. He eyes
Terror From AbovePART XXXIVTerror From AboveHighway 76, somewhere in PennsylvaniaFebruary 12, 2006 It was hot. So very hot. I could barely see straight from the blistering heat waves that threatened to burn the fur off my skin. The small car in front of me was engulfed in flames, paint and plastic crackling and melting as they were consumed by the inferno. I heard a scream from inside the passenger cabin that made my blood run cold. The driver struggled to get out but was stuck in her seat; the seatbelt jammed in place. It was deja vu. I forced the door open and ripped the seatbelt apart but everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I fel
Head Out On the HighwayPART XXXIIIHead Out On the HighwayPittsburgh, PennsylvaniaFebruary 11, 2006 I awoke to a strange rattling sound. It was still early in the morning and I didn't feel like getting up yet, so I put a pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep. No dice. I got up and listened, then deduced that something had come loose in the air conditioner unit overnight and was bouncing around. The noise stopped after I kicked the machine, so I went back to bed for another hour or so. When I decided to start my day, I went to the bathroom and then put on my shirt. While examining myself in the bathroom mirror, I noticed just how filthy my
A Pretty Good DayPART XXXIIA Pretty Good DayJohnstown, OhioFebruary 10, 2006 The next morning dawned much like the previous day: cold and gray. I had slept in the car overnight and was very uncomfortable from the stiff driver's seat. Undoubtedly the police were looking for the purple Neon, so I would have to get rid of it as soon as possible. I felt a rumbling deep in my gut that told me it was time to eat something. I hadn't had anything to eat since Charlotte bought me dinner at the Dairy Queen in Westerville. But what to eat? I didn't have anything with me, and there wasn't any food stashed in the car's glove box or in the center console.
Things Heat UpPART XXXIThings Heat UpDelaware, OhioFebruary 9, 2006 I was getting worried. Where was that idiot Tarpon? I was sure he'd show. Usually when I had a hunch I was right. But maybe this time I was wrong. Still, it would be best to keep my guard up at all times. I couldn't risk getting Charlotte Beauregarde hurt. I peeked through the floral-print curtains on the kitchen window. All I saw were my black pickup and Charlotte's gray Pontiac parked out by the shed in the side yard – that, and lots of snow. A set of tracks led from my truck to the house. Those were obviously mine; they were unmistakably paw prints. I squinted agains
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