My-Friends-Are-Owls

I vividly remember the Ice people. Ever patient, ever quiet. I nearly died finding them, but then again, I've nearly died a lot. I'd heard the rumours. 'They'll eat you alive and force you to watch!', what a load that was. They eat anything else they can find, but not other humans. Said it was because human skin didn't make warm coats, which suggested that they'd tried, I didn't dare to ask. Their pink stained teeth were the only convincer I needed to confirm that they wouldn't have thought twice. They're called the Ice People because they live in the endless and ever shrinking network of tunnels in the heart of Core XIV. It's cold down the

I would like to believe that sitting here now and waiting for the inevitable, untimely and downright ridiculously overdramatic end is a productive thing to be doing. I realise now that I have done a lot of waiting throughout my life. Waiting for passing carts to take me further from my birthplace, then trams, then trains and bi-planes and blimps to cross the vast expanses of wasteland that continue to expand at alarming rates. I met my first love on a blimp. Love, I use this word in such a context that holds the connotations of great admiration and the utter state of awe I found myself in upon our first meeting. He was a pilot, the lone c

I wish I had thought of installing a voice-recorder to Morfy. It would have meant I never forgot a thing, it would have been simple enough to install. I tell you that I never lied to him, it's true. However, it is inevitable that at some point while writing down the events you need to know, I will lie. It probably won't be intentional. I most likely won't realise I have done so. It's just in my nature. I don't like to say that it is a bad habit, it's not. I never willingly lied to anybody, it just happens. When it does, I just roll with it and see what I end up with. Past the age of nine and a half, I didn't have parents to tell me what to

Morfy, was the name of my faithful friend. An unoriginal name, I must add for a Morfortonimeter. His only purpose was to direct his owner to the grand and most glorious city of Morfort. You know, that place where there are no singing birds and no children in the streets playing together harmoniously. Being a farm-boy meant that I had access to tools, of every size and shape. One for any function you could possibly need. By the time I had finished with him (Morfy just seemed like a him. This was back when machines were genderless and meant only to make life in general a hell-of-a-lot easier) Morfy had wheels and had more functions and uses th

Since there was no oxygen in the air and the people residing in Morfort wore antlossogen masks (anti-loss-of-oxygen), I cannot say that the air was fresh. Nor is it right for me to say the birds were singing gaily, or the children played together harmoniously in the perfectly safe street. If I said either of these things, I would be lying. Lying is why I sit here now, recalling and recounting the more memorable events in my life. You don't want to know about the first time I walked on my own two feet, first time I rode a bicycle, first time a word came out of my mouth and believe you me that there are many other firsts that you won't care ab