Pony Boot Camp — Part Eighteen

Show, Don’t Tell

Lunch was light, as expected. Fruits and lettuce with a site of more lettuce. Our feast was supervised by the same two guards I’d encountered in the mess before. It struck me as odd that Tweedledum and Tweedledee regularly worked the same shift together. But hey, love always finds a way! As usual they hauled their ready-to-burst egos up and down the aisles, barking at inmates for no reason at all. Self-important yet intellectually ill-equipped, they were prime examples of common thugs. They bullied and hassled alright, but lacked the refined sadism of, say, a Seva Kandrin. Continue reading


Sneak Peek: Pony Boot Camp — Part Eighteen

Greetings, fellow pony enthusiasts! Of late I was a bit busy with parallel projects, some of which being other literary endeavours (those in the know can tell why “Return to Skyrim” and the sixth Part of “House of Cthulhu” had to be released on their respective dates). But “Pony Boot Camp – Part Eighteen” is on its way, and there’s even a sneak peek! Continue reading


Return to Skyrim

Return to Skyrim

 

A stranger had arrived at the tavern. What could be seen of her under her cloak’s hood as she was sitting in the inn’s far corner put her origin into the devastated province of Morrowind. From the other tables she received the well-known array of looks, from quick glances to dismissive steers.

One patron in particular seemed to take offence at her presence. A rough article he was. Not nearly in the midst of his years, he already carried the careworn look of a man having seen too many winters.

Akatosh knew, three of four seasons in this Gods-forsaken land were winters! Continue reading


House of Cthulhu — Sixth Night

~Sixth Night~

Danse Macabre

“Riin? Can you hear me, Riin?”

“Yes.”

Of course the girl’s answer was distorted by the gag in her sensual mouth. Providence had more than once witnessed victims biting their tongues off during the throws of the Inviting. And just like with the girl he had left with the one who had called upon the Mountains, her screams would be sufficient to alarm third parties. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Seventeen

Seventeen

After an alarmingly short night’s rest it was the whistle once more that awoke me. I made it just in time to the washroom to puke into one of the toilets as the enormity of my situation hit me again. A nasty way to start the day, but it would pass. It had to. The same had happen to me at my very first stay in a holding cell, after I’d been nicked for the sacrilegious crime of dismounting pointless speed limit signs. Never been locked up before, I’d been overwhelmed by the consequences of my statement on traffic regulations. Apparently it hadn’t chimed with the opinions of the blokes who had ordered the signs to be put there in the first place. Being basically a bunch of hippies and communists, they couldn’t bear the thought that a) anybody would be able to drive faster than somebody else, and that b) anybody would excide the mind-blowing velocity of 30 km/h anywhere. Securing at least a moral victory, I’d never spilt where I had hidden the abducted signs (which had cost me an extra fine). But I digress. Back then the sickness had passed, and so would it do now. What wouldn’t pass was Kandrin’s hazing of us. That woman had a serious inferiority complex, judged by how hard she pressed her group to be the quickest and tidiest and most teachable. With the bile still burning in my damaged mouth, I stumbled outside for the little fall-in.

I forgot to introduce myself: My name is Seventeen. Continue reading


Alterations for Pony Boot Camp (I)

Since “Pony Boot Camp” is a work in progress it may occur that certain details or passages are altered retrospectively, even if the containing parts are already published. To give the reader the option to track those changes and additions, I will henceforth list them separately.

Nonetheless chapters generally considered finished and valid when published here. No change or addition will contradict older versions. Continue reading


Pony Boot Camp — Part Sixteen

The Doctor Is In

It wasn’t the same room as yesterday. It had the same homey morgue ambience, though. As I was waiting for the lady doctor, daintily shifting my weight from one aching foot to the other, I mused how to list my various troubles. Ordered by severity? Alphabetically? Or by body parts, perhaps? The doc made that decision for me as soon as she entered the medical room.

“Let me guess: displeasing side effects of physical correction?” Continue reading


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