Zander: A Fictional Narrative

Zaxbys is cool, zaxby’s is straight But i'm always there every night My feet hurting from standing all day I stand there stiff as a knight The food there is good most of the time Customers sometimes are close to fighting

“Seth was sprinting toward her. His shirt was torn. He had blood on his face. Scores of fairies appeared to be in pursuit. Her initial thought was to make a joke about the fairies

The rest of the crowd rolled their eyes at the terrible pun. Even Zaelith, once she finally began to find her breath again. She recovered just in time to lose her breath in a startled squeek when a pair of hands grabbed her arms from behind, forcibly pulling her back on her feet. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed her assailant to be the mustachioed innkeeper, his paternal countenence twisted with lustful intentions. Even as her unwilling host recoiled in horror, Zaelith reasserted her control over the body and offered the portly old man a mischevious smile, playfully sticking out her tongue

“So let’s say this is Zephyr running around terrorizing the town and supposedly kill two people what are we supposed to do?” Zay asked. “What are you getting at?” Todrick implied as he shifted through his parents drawers grabbing anything that he knew was silver. “Well I mean what if he’s gone?” Todrick stopped what he was doing and looked at Zay. He didn’t know what to say as it wasn’t something he had thought about. “I mean I know it’s a scary thought but come on Tod, he killed two people. Even if we somehow managed to get him back he did things that’ll get him put up.” Zay continued. “I see where you’re coming from but we have to at least try to save him. It’s the least i owe him for turning him into this and then abandoning him.”

Another conflict in the story was Zaroff versus himself. “I assume you I do not do the thing you suggest. That would be barbarous. I treat these visitors with every consideration.”

Za’zu looked over Zerdek once last time before bringing his fists up. He knew what was coming. The inevitable fight between them. Zerdek let out a small breath and did the same. He didn’t want to fight his friend, but he knew to gain his freedom, one of them would walk out the arena a winner, while the other was carried away in either a body bag or a stretcher. He mimicked Za’zu actions, getting ready for the bell to ring. As the moments pass, the loud ding of the bell echoes through Zerdek’s ears. He knows he has to make the first move to get the upper hand. He knows that Za’zu knows all his tricks and aces up his sleeve. He knows this is a fight they he might not be able to win, but he has to try. He needs his freedom. Za’zu comes in close,

The intercom overhead glows slightly green and then spits out the words, “Mr. Aldaviel, report immediately to the captain’s cabin or else I’ll come get you!” in Mr. Wilkes’ leering tone. It might be threatening, but the idea of him waddling through the narrow hallways with his potbelly is so comical that I laugh and stand. “I guess I better get going,” I ruffle Laina’s hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. Then we can go off together.”

He stood up like he was ordered, girting his teeth, biting back any harsh words he wished to spit out. He pushed his hair out of his face, gathered his and his master's effects and followed the wizard. Jessime spent a lot of time in his head, thinking about various things, dreaming about being a free man at an inn with many women of all races around him only to have his lovely fantasy shattered by being fucked by his -unwilling to admit out loud- handsome master. Jessime struggled at the thought, only finding himself eyeing his master up and down. A mix of resentment, self loathing and sexual frustration ate away at him.

“How dare you—” Once again the officer was cut off by a sudden movement from Kardan. Everyone was silent, then he spun, aiming a rifle at Jorgan. “Intruders! Put those blasters on the floor, soldiers. Nice and

“You were just complaining about being bored with scouting missions.” She snapped back. “Now it’s not boring enough? Go back to your wall if you want peace and quiet.”

An inebriated Gawain said, “Perceval, do you remember when I made that bet with Ulrich?” Gawain moved his tankard around in a wild circle and mead splashed onto his lap. “The one where I bet him ten gold pieces he couldn’t hit that fleeing hair with his arrow. That thing was what, five hundred paces away? But damn, he struck the little fucker, and I was out ten gold coins!” Gawain cackled for a moment before carrying on.

What? Was someone talking? Was the ball cap talking? Oh god he was dead on his feet. Just absolutely dead. Oh no there was a face under the cap. There was actually an entire person. That was good. And even better they asked if they could get him anything. That was very helpful. Well it would have been if Hektor had any mental capacity beyond that of a jellybean.

“Calm down, dude. It’s temporary. Zander has to wait for a portal to open and bah, bah, bah . . .”

If I had a secret hero identity my name would be RockTurkey. I would use this name everyday as I go online to battle the evil doers in the digital realm. I would have lightning quick reflexes, incredibly smart mind, and the ability to quickly dispose of any foe with ease. However when I take off the persona I would be Koby Turk. I would have better than average reflexes, an approximant knowledge of many things, and be able to quickly disperse an argument because of those two combined. To how I got my superpowers is still unknown. I have a few ideas to where they may have come from. The first is that I inherited the powers through my bloodline. Mother and Father passing down their traits to their son. However I more believe I got then through

Staring at the ceiling with a distant, catatonic gaze, the corpse’s eyes seemed to have a glassy appearance. Its mouth hung just slightly ajar in a lazy, almost relieved state, and the pale flesh still seeped with droplets of sweat that ran down along the clammy skin. It was a familiar sight to to the Khanid; a lifeless carcass that retained its death stare. However, what was most unnerving to him was the fact that the body mirrored his own, down to the small pock marks in the facial features from acne as a teenager.