Your teachers are bought ( Read more... )

Hell is reserved for me ( Read more... )

Plätscher, plätscher ( Read more... )

Zombie squadron is ready ( Read more... )

They draw borders on the moon ( Read more... )

They're coming ( Read more... )

I sit
and I will be rewarded.

I shut up
and I will be praised.

I write,
but I stop.

Is this
going to drive them away?

Will they
even listen to what I say?

I am
afraid.

I ain't
no fighter on the ground.

Shamefully reminded
that a pencil is not a gun.

What is it
that I can do?

The ballroom has opened ( Read more... )

Type: Short story ( Read more... )

The myth of the one who came from nowhere ( Read more... )