Sanity is forbidden Circulation: 197,890,946 Issue: 1025 | 24th day of Sleeping, Y27
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Continued Series


Wish-Granting

Skyleur stopped on the tower's third floor, cleared space on her old workbench--her chair and table were a ruin of cloth and wood, but the metal bench had only rusted through the years--and pressed the Colour Changing Tulip that had grown out of her tears.

by phadalusfish
Castle Planner's Journal: 1000 Years

Despite the rush of serving dinner being long over, The kitchens were still very much alive and busy with Pets cleaning up, and preparing for breakfast the next day.

by ferretboy85
The Dream Quest

It took them three full days of travel to journey from the Grarrl Peninsula to south of the Desert of Roo, and several more days to wind their way through the dark and twisting Techo Caves.

by ellienib
Cavall's Three Days of Giving

Not far from Meridell Castle was a spacious graveyard that honoured erstwhile employees of the castle. A wind had picked up, whistling through the blue Cybunny’s ears and rippling through his ruff as he walked past the barren bushes and bald trees, his boots crunching against a thin layer of snow on the ground.

by precious_katuch14
A Meerca's Mission

“Matatat,” he said. She extended her paw, so he hesitantly reached out and shook it. She had a strong, firm grip. “A pleasure to meet you.” Chuychu took a careful look at him, her head slightly tilted.

by weakestlink33
Accessible Journalism

When Ruby awoke that morning, a part of her hoped she’d hear the front door open, and Lana’s warm voice would fill the foyer. She and her sister would embrace, and after Lana finished telling her about her harrowing escape from Void-ridden Brightvale, they’d get to work on that article.

by hybatsu
 
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"Echoes in the Snow" by kadface
I knew that I was growing old when I really started getting into jazz. My old man was much the same. I remember every Sunday morning he would go into his library, take a record off the shelf, and set it on the record player. It was like a ritual. He would sit back in his brown leather chair, eyes closed, humming along, and tapping his feet. Whenever I picture him now, I see the sunlight coming through the window, lighting up the dust with a golden glow, spiral smoke rising from the Borovan as it slowly goes cold. It’s only recently that I have started to realise how much I miss those days. I find myself thinking about them more and more during the winter months, waiting for the days to lengthen and life to return. It was the third day of the Month of Sleeping, and the world had filled with snow and ice. I had taken down my Christmas tree, and I knew it would be the last time I played the Jazzmosis seasonal album until it went back up. Sitting in my own leather chair, I allowed my eyes to close with the heaviness of a long day’s work. Although I felt at peace, I had an air of melancholy that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. As I listened to the fireplace cracking, I was close...




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Echoes in the Snow
"I knew that I was growing old when I really started getting into jazz. My old man was much the same. I remember every Sunday morning he would..."

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