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Violent Frightening DisasterPrologue
If I had been left the choice between you, justice and the message hidden inside that fortune cookie, I would have chosen you.
There is no more justice, the message is lost, rats have eaten the cookie and you are gone forever.
Allow me to talk about the expression : ''You can't judge a book by its cover''.
The primary meaning of the said expression is of course that you can't rely on appearances to understand or explain something, or someone. I have had the misfortune to find myself into some situations where that sentence requires an altogether different interpretation, which can be summarized as follows : ''This is a hollow book. The sugar pot is hidden inside.''.
The following story will undoubtedly repulse any sane reader and thus, in order to preserve that precious sanity, will never be published. So, if you happen to read this, and in order to be fair, I have to apologize for the lack of cover as well as to describe the cover I would have selec
ViolentFrighteningDisaster - One (asouefanfiction)Violent Frightening Disaster
I - The importance of driving safely
London - Three years after the schism
As the waiter of Verini's Finest Diner, disguised as a taximan, was driving me through the crowded streets of the City, I was trying to focus on the newspaper. There was a vital need that I completed the crossword on the last page before we reached destination. The word vital here meaning : ''life-saving'' in the most literal way possible. There was also a vital need that my chauffeur reached our destination as soon as possible, thus sacrificing that other life-saving, though less vital need of driving safely.
Please try to imagine the situation. It could only be qualified as
''Perilous'', I wrote in the 5-across cells of the crossword, as an answer to the definition : ''Incredibly risky''.
The next definition was : ''If they forget how to do it, children have what they need at their fingertips.''.
The car brutally turned left as I was tr
Violent Frightening Disaster - TwoInterlude : Ventus Facis Damnum
A boat. The Atlantic Ocean. Seven years after the schism.
The water around me reminds me of the fire surrounding you, that night.
The ocean reminds me of the salty drops of water running on your cheeks made pure light by the flames licking your house.
Your tears remind me of my tears, that same night, when I realized that you wouldn't survive.
So many salty tears because of a sugar pot.
The marine wind in my hair reminds me of the wind feeding the fire in which you disappeared.
The false mustache on my lips reminds me of the lips I longed to kiss.
The eye on my ankle reminds me of your gaze.
And the steward just reminded me of the fact that I really need to leave the ship before they release the lions.
Violent Frightening Disaster - ThreeThree : Various Fedoras for Disguise
A sober-looking office - Three years after the Schism
Mr. Poe's hand was trembling over the paperwork, as he was considering the signature at the bottom of the letter at the top of the pile of documents. He swallowed his saliva in a nervous gulp and lit a match.
Once the letter had been entirely consumed by fire, as too many houses around him had already been, he sat at his desk and took hold of a collection of recent photographs of a man wearing different types of hats in different positions. In most of the photographs, the man turned his back to the camera.
In the last of them, however, the face was visible under the gray fedora.
Mr. Poe attached the photograph in question to the file, took a sober-looking pen and wrote on the first page :
Mr. Poe had just written the most important lie of his whole life.
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