dreamszilla

A morally estranged knight recalls defining moments from his past as he struggles against drowning. Image generated with OpenAI The catapult on the curtain wall snapped. Sir Gerald Drymon, the Apple Knight, was below the castle walls in the river below, standing at the bow of a rowboat. His mood was foul tonight, and his remaining teeth hurt. He'd worked hard over the years to get back into the good graces of Lord Peck and be a knight in his retinue. But Lord Peck still considered Drymon a mercenary risen above his station. Tonight's battle would prove otherwise. Lord Peck had assigned Drymon a paltry force of four men to climb the castle walls and drop the bridge. It was a task Peck had assumed Drymon would be too scared to undertake. The fat lord assumed wrong. Drymon would drop the bridge and spit in Lord Peck's eye for the insult. He peered up to see where the contraption would fling the body parts, but the night sky was a black pit. Waiting, watching, he heard water ...

Two cops go looking for a mob boss who has been behaving oddly, and they're surprised by what they find. Image generated with OpenAI "Disgusting," grunted the tall, burly police lieutenant Scotty Niven, as he trod his way gingerly through patches of tall grass and clumps of litter, to the entrance of the dimly lit estate. "And this is the home of a big mob boss?" queried the slim, young police rookie Ryan Smith at his side. "I don't get it." "Frankly, neither do I," said the lieutenant, ringing the doorbell. "Alberto Grigio has been in Vegas for several weeks, where he dropped a fortune. Maybe he can tell us what's been going on here. His home and his gang have deteriorated, and I for one would like to know why." A tired, slovenly looking woman brandishing a duster yanked open the door and looked over the two policemen. "Cops, eh?" she muttered. "Mr. Grigio ain't in." "Where is he?" insisted...

Recently divorced Alvin resents the engraving on the watch his ex-wife gave him. Image generated with OpenAI He had to take care of the watch, now that the papers were signed. A Rado DiaStar. A prized possession. Not up for debate in the negotiation with his ex-wife Linda and her lawyer. It weighed heavy on his mind and his wrist. Alvin grabbed his coat and walked outside. It was a grey day in March, although the weather had not committed to rain. The first thing he saw when he left the building was Smith & Wollensky. Leave it to New York to have a steakhouse that sounded like a law firm. He headed north and tried to free up his mind from the heaviness of the last few months. And erase what he had seen from Linda. The wind had picked up, but he walked headlong into it. It took him back to those early spring practices when he ran track in high school. When, in spite of the March bite, all seemed open and possible. A bus roared past and splashed water from the street. Alvin was back ...