

La Femme des CauchemaresLa Femme des CauchemarsLa Femme des Cauchemares
S.R. Jamnik
The train loomed out of the early morning fog, the grey smoke billowing from its engine, clouding up my surroundings, and making visibility excruciatingly difficult for my ancient eyes. The Paris Station was already infested with sweating, creeping people busy with their travels. Thank goodness I had remembered to pack my handkerchief, which I clasped desperately over my mouth. God only knows what kind of festering bacteria was swarming in the air surrounding me. The cool fall breeze had caused an outbreak of the influenza, and I was certainly not going to take any chances, what wi


The King's BloodThe King’s BloodThe King's Blood
Through the din of crashing shields and swords, I could hear his cry. It rang out through the air like the bellow of a mighty beast that had been felled. I could tell from the volume of it that he could not been very far away, a hundred feet more or less, and I could taste his blood in the air. When spent, the blood of a true king affects all around it, and this time, it hastened my search for him. My amour, belabored and impinged to the point of uselessness, could not move fast enough for my purposes, as I plunged my weighty broadsword into my many foe’s thick-set chests. They collapsed liked wheat around me, an


MasksMasksMasks
Tell me something, You yellow-bellied prodigy with too much hair-gel, Just because your arms are strong, Does that mean you’re better than me? Does your varsity jacket Make you more worth while? You cheating fool, Hypocrite, Sitting on your books of morals. Do they really mean anything to you? And can you tell me how it feels To be this downhearted? Other men, they lie with only words, You hide behind a mask, That every proud parent believes What would you say, What would you pay, If I were to break it?


The Red-EyeTHE RED-EYEThe Red-Eye
You sit in bed, read a nice, cosy book, drink coffee, devour a cup of noodles (instant), and listen to the soothing tunes of the National Symphony Orchestra in concert with Metallica. You sit and you think, life’s a bore. A fucking bore.
Sister’s birthday in a few days, Grand Final of the football in two, and all you can think about is how shit the weather is tonight, and how good it would be if Metallica came to your house.
There are a few different types of steam. Coffee has a light, misty steam, but noodles lend themselves to a heavier brand. Put the two under a light. You can see the diff
messy
srjamnik, I have found a digital artist the team is complete.
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PS sorry for my bad english...
Idea up for you on my journal
I basicly would like you to look it over and tell me what you think about it an then tell me if you can write a script for it an if you can I'll draw six panels of sequential art an the character designs an then M@ Developent will be in bussiness.Thats the easy part the hard part will be promoting our manga but make no mistake M@ DEV is both of ours you Opinon matters
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Four out of five emoticons recommend you check out Sixes and Sevens and Steamstalk.
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Crazy isn't being broken or swallowing a dark secret.
It's you or me amplified.
If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it.
If you ever wished you could be a child forever.
It is marvelous and excellent description of an old unwell lady.
Keep it beyond up.
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