Think of a green. Six-sided. Sun.

The Future:

"Alright, here's what we know." 21 pulled out a map and unrolled it across the table. The top of it was labelled "New York City" in bold print. "One month ago, the Trinity were moved into a safe house near the Towers of America. This was an hour after the 'terrorist' attack on the Law & Order Building in Boston."

To My Masterpiece

A long time ago, in a place that was certainly filled with wonder, there lived an artist. He was renowned throughout the land, and was talented in every medium imaginable. Everyone admired him, and he was happy.

The Great Escape

"Don't look back!" Saddam yelled to his companions as they sprinted across the fiery field. The alarm was blaring behind them in the distance, and the sounds of pounding hooves and flapping leathery wings could be heard not far behind.

Political Detour: The Two-Party System And You

That's right, kids, it's that time again. It's that special type of blog post where Matt looks at the country he's living in, and pukes in his mouth a little bit. You guessed it, it's another Political Detour...

So, everyone's all excited that the Republicans won every single one of the November elections. By "everyone", of course, I mean "not the Democrats". And by "won", of course, I mean "all the Republicans are acting like it's a done deal already even though a single vote has yet to be cast."

A Poem Re-Done

This is a re-working of a free-verse poem I wrote down two-ish years ago, and thought the concept was interesting. So, I decided to improve on the execution.

And Just Like That, It Ends.

1525 AD, Japan:

The field's yellowed grass was aflame with the orange glow of the sunset. The lone samurai's jet black hair flew in the gentle breeze, and his sword blazed with a dazzling light. He looked at the three warriors, all astride majestic brown horses, that surrounded him. Two of them had their arrows drawn on their wooden bows, the third sat regally, looking down at him, with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

In This Bosom Of Our Lord, We Slowly Smother

2580 BC, Giza Necropolis, Egypt

The stones were stacking up higher and higher all the time. Three men sat under the cover of a cloth hut, watching hundreds of slaves dragging massive blocks of limestone across the desert and up the shoddy wooden scaffolding.

"Isn't it glorious?" Pharaoh Khufu said to the two men he was seated with. "It's not nearly completed, but my pyramid is already a wonder to behold. A monument to my life, and a temple of my death."