|I'm that guy who buys 72 pencils at once and didn't use more than 20 in 5 years. >;D|
Obituary, Confession, Officer Baker. His name was Blake Baker, a good man, an Officer of the law.Obituary, Confession, Officer Baker. by FilipePVasconcelos
He was born some thirty years ago, in some whorehouse down the Harbor Street, his mother one of the ladies, his father a sailor. Baker never met his mother after his first day.
Raised in an orphanage, more of a dormitory for the Robber Baron's present and future little workers.
He saw the Baron betraying his wife, the director laid down on her table. They saw him. Blake, the unfortunate, wrong place, wrong time, he didn't mean to pry.
The Baron was never liked, yet, nobody would rise against him.
"He's never gonna let us go!" they shout, the few of the kids who didn't lose their limbs. Blake was just passing by, he didn't mean to... Baker, the nosy.
All his life, Blake had been too much in the wrong places, at the exact wrong times. Yet, he was a good man. Frightened by his past yes, but a good man.
At 16, Blake Baker enlisted in the Holy Imperial Army. Baker, Officer.
I don't think I'm in august.Oh, Estephania, I wonder how long I have been away. Was it long?I don't think I'm in august. by FilipePVasconcelos
I have these thoughts while walking to you, remembering the good times, far before the mess started.
You stand in front of me, smiling. After all this time, there is not much more face to do anything else.
Well then, Good bye.
O Veneno de DeusMeu nome é José, José Freitas Fernando Camelo de Freitas.O Veneno de Deus by FilipePVasconcelos
Eu estive aqui nesta cidadezinha à sul de lugar nenhum por mais de 300 anos, ninguém parece ter notado, apesar de tudo.
Eu nasci aqui mesmo, fui índio, Ia Ia era meu nome, um nome feminino, você pensa? Sim. Nunca disse que eu nasci humano, tampouco homem.
Eu era uma caminhante de peles, metamorfa, se preferir, nunca iria imaginar que meu sangue me seria roubado... O anjo foi o monstro que eu fui ver naquele dia.
Parecia interessante, um anjo, velho quando o mundo era novo.
Os humanos o chamavam de "A serpente", ele não pareceu uma serpente quando o vi pela primeira vez, pelo contrário.
Era charmoso como O Boto, olhos azuis como o céu da manhã, dentes brancos e perfeitos como se esculpidos nos ossos calcinados dos feiticeiros humanos que tentavam nos ameaçar. Asas vermelhas como se a gralha azul das tribos do sul houvesse sido banhada no sangue de dezenas d
The minor god of Grief and Regret“She came at me with those fearsome yellowish eyes the devil gave her, striking me with the fear... that fear.The minor god of Grief and Regret by FilipePVasconcelos
In my life only the old gods gave me that kind of fear, the ancient creatures born from the faith of a thousand miserable fools!
The man in the woods, the man who took my mother, The good Old Pan. “Good” What a joke!
It was the worst day in my life, he came at me with the shape of a man, so beautiful I could never, ever refuse his touch. Until that day no woman ever had struck me so deep and strongly. I asked myself what he was, how could he be mine, or I be his...
I was mistaken, years have passed, and now, my own mother came back, a pact with a devil, she says. It was all for me, she says.
She expected her little boy when she came back. Instead, she only saw an ugly monster! I’m now no more her son. I’m a Satyr, servant of the old god. I’m also a minor god myself, if you would believe the words of a satyr. The minor god of Grief and Regret