I live in a quadrant of the George Galaxy where Intergalactic Enforcement routinely licks their wounds. Thanks to the lawlessness; the dirtiest, grimiest, and cruelest of the known sentient species are offing each other left and right. Trust me, you need all three words to describe these parts! Planet Pandora is the only haven in these crazy light-years. A dame from Xyzm calls the shots. You’re racking your brains about how one gal came to run her own planet. Let’s just say when we came to these wild-wild-spaceways, we weren’t quiet about it. How did we ever survive those gunfights? Dumb luck I guess. She's not fully human, by the way. Neither am I.
I am the captain of Earth, Robert Kurack, a hybrid from Europa. The Diet, Congress, and Planetary Church chose me to lead the mission of transporting the last pure human DNA of Phillip Simon to Planet Gaia. Once delivered to Gaia, Project Longevity is to begin. With my crew of thousands, we embarked on the most important year-long journey in hybrid history. Bless be the Gods on Triton and Io. Captain Kurack.
Story summary: Middle-age wizard Lennox has decided to merge three gems as a birthday gift for their partner Sinclair. The problem is anything that is natural cannot be changed. Lennox has spent the last three months learning the hard way. Do they succeed? Do they fail? Read now to find out!
Disclaimer: This is a new version of this horribly written story. I’m leaving the old version up as remainder and for folks to read.
Sitting upon his throne, The Rock God Aramaz watches the Seventh Heaven’s destruction. Buildings tapering away into the large chasms ripped in the ground; he caused them. Dead spirits and War Gods strewed everywhere. They fought fiercely to the end, Aramaz thought, proud of those who stayed to fight; unlike those who ran, he wanted to kill them all for such cowardice. A war ended, and Aramaz lost to his youngest brother, Rangi. Now he sits and waits for oblivion. His once unbreakable body is crumbling. The sensation of cracks tears asunder the boulders he called muscles. He looks down to see his legs collapse into piles of stones on the ground. Those legs shook his Heavens for billions of years with each step he took. He loved to watch other Gods collapse over his mighty stomp. It reassured his dominance.
Words, an equation of ideas meant to communicate the abstract. Hours researching the theorem. Nights spent healing wounds from failure. After months of trials, documenting the most minutiae errors, and hair-pulling anger they found the correct order. Glory came up short, seeing the unformed gems not a unified whole of symmetrical preeminence. The wizard leafs through notes, searching for an answer the spell’s failure. Their stomach growls, a sigh past between their lips.
If you have found this letter: run. If you are still reading this: I am William Milton. Male. thirty-six years of age. I worked in the shipyards. What I write to you is true, whether you believe it or not. Now, where shall I start from? Oh yes, the perfect place.