Deer are incredibly elusive. Some say they don’t exist. After all, what besides ghouls and mutants could survive inside the Whitetail Woods?
I don’t know what I’m smelling anymore.
I smell wood. There is no wood. Just air. It makes me sick.
I wish there was wood. Then I wouldn’t feel so lonely.
I smell leaves.
They’re new. Except they’re not. They’re dead. They’ve been dead. They crunch under my feet as I walk.
Crunch crunch. Like chips.
I wish i had chips.
Walking is dumb. Flying is better.
I try and fly. I scrape my knee. It hurts. I watch the blood run down my leg.
I don’t feel it. It’s just there.
I hear voices.
http://www.strawpoll.me/15720322
Here you go. Choose which race X deals with for the next arc.
...and crashed his car by trying not to hit it on the road. So, yeah, my buddy Knight Templar, one of my editors, is without a car and not even a shred of venison to comfort him. But hey, at least Santa's not down a deer.
Same as before and here's five more!
... and there it is!
... go me? Go... us? You guys apparently really liked this story. I don't know what to say about it beyond being embarrassingly flattered. So... hurrah?
Sorry; my writing is a bit slow, right now! I hope I can keep the story entertaining.
If you have any ideas or qestions, please let me know.
I will keep updating this blog, as things change, or I have ideas to further this story.
At 10PM Pacific, November 20, 2017, I claimed my ninth National Novel Writing Month victory.
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