He found himself walking downwards as the world seemed to collapse around him, a weight to leave his shoulders, while the wind slowed and a few grains of pollen came through.

This is Fictions must take you beyond the past fictions. So I have a challenge, yet nothing stirs me like this one.

How many cards do you see, a few missing, but not lost on me, your aces no doubt up your sleeve, a laser of opportunity if you dare, take it or leave it, nothing but empty, play it hard, deal better, ask questions, and beware of the king of spades.

It would seem, he said, that you have me confused, I am not you, it is a strange world you see, that you are you, and I am me.

As I lay dying, the sands were everywhere, but a spire to behold, looming larger each moment, till I rose to me feet, dying was too easy.

It is the show, lovely beautiful performances they memorize long ago, by the hole at the bottom, a poet says do not go, the place where darkness lives, save yourself now.