more draft sentences.

[maelorin]

short stories this time.

again, guess the genre. perhaps guess what happens next.

the raven's last cry

Elisa looked out the window. No matter how hard she looked, it was just snow. She couldn't see anything fascinating about it at all. Truth be told, it frightened her. All that cold, white beauty - savage and merciless - without a soul.

why in the world

they came swooping down across the face of the mountains, slipping behind the peaks only to appear just as suddenly between the crags.

she eats stars for breakfast

No, he decided. Not today. Whatever happened, it would not be today. And with that, he grabbed his pack, loaded up and headed out. He'd be damned before he gave them the satisfaction. If he had to die, it would be facing his fears and his enemies - looking them in the eyes and daring them to look back.

if i've told you once, i've told you a hundred times

What the hell was it he had to do here? All those hours of toil and now that he'd made it, he couldn't recall why he'd come. Looking back didn't help. If anything, it only heightened his sense of futility, his frustration.

i love you, so why won't you die?

She was reputed to be the fastest of her kind. Easy enough when she's probably the last of them as well. But she even looked fast. Sitting alone, surrounded by even older, more decrepit hulks. Fluid lines catching fleeting flecks of sunlight as the afternoon express rattled by on the overhead rails. Even now, in her twilight years, she was a thing of beauty. A beautiful siren who'd claimed so many lives.