The Peaceful Enclosures remain submerged in a fluid matter where the Waterbred Dragons began to thrive, evolved, participated in the ecosystem of darkness, and ultimately settled without no other choice but succumb in a process called the natural selection of what had been the case of a survival of the fittest. And regarding this survival, they definitely did triumph. The evolution that took thousands of years to develop had been observed to be the consequence of the natural tendency of the will to survive, a natural instinct present in all living organisms as a desperate reaction to the unknown stimuli. The will for self-preservation is very strong in organic matter, as much as it is present in the behavior of organisms, and so is the mechanical process of the structural composition of the vital physiology of cells and tissues. But in analyzing all of these building blocks that comprise living things, there is one crucial thing that remains to be true in all circumstances, despi...

If the world would stop hurting poets, no literary masterpieces would ever be written. [...] After all, only a wounded soul can definitely endure the promise of forever. The Sunshine is Shining Not Quite, The Anonymous Author xxx A wailing sound is waiting to be heard. Not from the beginning, no. Not even towards the end. The sorrow is about to happen in the middle of this time segment, though interwoven in certain circumstances that blinds the viewer from the actual horror of the events. But it did manifest itself. To confirm, the murky middle has arrived. The act of the beginning of a story is the main source of predestination after the delineation of the proper conflict has been made, established, and adequately propagated. The poison that makes literature alive in the dangerous path towards a conclusive ending requires that its heroes endure the pain, cure themselves with the required disposition needed to slay the villains, and ultimately reach their colorful destiny in the same p...

 She took her last breath. She was most certain of it. And then she felt as if she was being lifted into the air without the weight of her body. She felt light as a feather. After that, there was a distinct scream of terror. It was the voice of torture, an agonizing expression of the million thoughts all considered at once, everywhere in substance and taken altogether. It sounded more like a triumphant banshee of the most devious and ugly kind of certain neglect. It was quite errie as much as it is curious. Suddenly, there was a deafening silence. The blinding white light has long been gone, and now the darkness is starting to set in. The vision was blurred by its independent eyewitness account of the form of existence, taken in direct proportion to the occurence of a certain period of time, thoroughly and efficient, the corresponding spatial requirement, notwithstanding. And then, she immediately noticed that she was no longer breathing. She started to wake up with the same feelin...