Shackles in filigree cage man’s wings to his chest.
Its time for another short film showcase, this time honoring a few films I found on a "cute animals" binge gone terribly awry.
If your heart is broken, find another.
They were indoors. The crowd was spread, but it was still a crowd, and in unpredictable motion. Umi switched from the hilt of his Major to the hilt of his Minor.
Shiori fell to the bottom of the world. It was black. It was cold, and wet like oil was wet. It was full of moving faces. They ate Shiori’s fingers, robes, eyes.
There are spiders all over my house lately: the little jumpy ones, who alternate between "cute" and "awful," and the huge juicy ones with the musculature Hercules who are always Lawful Awful. In case they kill me in my sleep, here are seven uncanny microprompts to remember me by.
The needle went in, out, and in the assassin’s heart. The icon took shape: blue as black, the damned kingfisher. James’ dragon raged around inside him, trying to thrash loose, but the thrall had ordered him to be still. James’ teeth rattled in their sockets. His magic rattled in his bones.
Everyone's heads exploded at Momma's wedding. Grandma's done-up bun rocketed loose with her eyebrows flapping behind, right into Auntie Em's paisley lap. Uncle Denis's round, red face gorged and...