Ancient Ruins Part 2

The child looked up at the starless sky. He tried to imagine what it must of looked like in the ancient days. The elders told stories of the time before. In his mind he pictured a bright and luminous sky, as bright as day, with not one sun, but millions of tiny diamonds shining down…

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Ancient Ruins Part 1

The dawn broke in the east. The ruins stretched Across the horizon. The city was still a day’s ride away, but its presence loomed solemn before her. If asked, she couldn’t say why she was drawn there. There was a drive in her, some irrational calling that inspired her to leave her clan behind and…

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Miserable Morning

The light was blinding when Errica opened her eyes. Sleep still clung to her mind like frost on a blade of grass and the dream that seemed so real moments ago fled like a deer through the forest. She was raising a hand up to her face when the sudden urge to stretch struck her…

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A Matter Of Time (fiction)

I She sat cross-legged on the dirt floor of the small shack. Dressed in torn rags that were the gray-brown color of dirt and dust. Her hazel eyes shone bright peering out from her dirty face. Her long matted hair, light brown when clean, now the same gray-brown tint of her clothes. In front of…

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White People Can Only Aspire Towards Anarchism

I’ve billed myself as an Anarchist for a long while now. I’ve fought against a lot of people who have claimed that Anarchism was individualistic and that it is wholly anti-state. I’ve tried to salvage the term repeatedly from the the white-centric idea that Anarchism is the more prominent “saltine anarchism” or white anarchism, that…

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