A Gabby 2.0 story. Read it here.

A Gabby 2.0 story. Read it here.

Gabby 2.0 you ask? Long story short, this is a different version of what she could have been, had she not been embraced. Takes place in a different reality, which the storyteller is calling Earth-3.

Very excited about this game and this project.

She stood there, bare feet in frozen mud, and looked around, one last time. Time had forgotten this graveyard, there was no one here to tend the lonely ghosts, who lingered at the edge of her sight, afraid to even approach the hungry, pale creature who stood before them. She had buried the box the night before, covering her work carefully, a safe ( Read more... )

The email I am not supposed to be reading does not, precisely, surprise me, but it fills me with a strange flavor of anger. Walking wounded? It sounds a little like running away to me. I have stopped counting my own losses, but I could measure time in death, in loss... and still I go on ( Read more... )

The choice was mine, and mine completely
I could have any prize that I desired
I could burn with the splendor of the brightest fire
Or else, or else I could choose time

Remember I was very young then
And a year was forever and a day
So what use could fifty, sixty, seventy be?
I saw the lights, and I was on my way

And how I lived, how they shone
But how soon ( Read more... )

Can this be true? An old wonder, not an ancient one, a magic still forgotten ( Read more... )

Even her body felt like a cage, for the heartbeat she returned to it. A breath, a sentence. Another. She dove back into the shadow, to follow ( Read more... )

I long to feel your hand on my shoulder, old man, to sit beside you and listen, to have the quiet certainty of my faith in you ( Read more... )

She did not have the words anymore, for her grief and pain. She remembered his, long-ago. Four years. A lifetime.

"Our path is one of pain, one of danger. There we can see clearly the price of the path we've chosen for ourselves. But all around, we can also see the strength and the purity of our ideals, in that we can all stand here together, to ( Read more... )

You tell that you've got ev'rything you want,
And your bird can sing,
But you don't get me,
You don't get me.

The once and future Virgatore stared out the window while her hands deftly fastened a holster in place, then reached into the duffel, pulled out a knife in a sheathe and buckled that onto her leg. One by one she reattached her weapons, feeling ( Read more... )