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Black Rabbit - Part sevenThe late October breeze shifted leaves across the sidewalks and roadways, which were usually empty. But tonight, they were filled with children in colorful costumes and teenagers looking to make some trouble. It was Halloween. And every dressed up child that Casey passed made him regret where he was driving even more. Shiloh had somehow pulled him into going trick or treating today, which was nearly impossible for someone to do. The raven absolutely hated trick or treating and hadn't done it since he was around the age of ten. But, Casey just couldn't say no to Shiloh. Maybe it was his baby blue eyes, staring into whatever goodness was left in his soul. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that Casey was growing very fond of the boy. Their agreement was that they he would go trick or treating with Shiloh just as long as he didn't wear a costume.
But as Casey pulled up to the quaint second story house on the hill, he couldn't help have a hunch that he would actually be in a costume sometim
Black Rabbit - Part eightThe morning light filtered through the soft baby blue curtains and cast a warm light across the cozy bedroom and onto the bed that usually just had one pink topped boy curled up innit. But this morning, a snake bitten rabbit held him close as they both slept ever so soundly. Unlike every other time that Casey woke up with a boy in the same bed, this was a pure, sweet kind of cuddle. As they lay there sleeping, Shiloh had his face pressed into Casey's chest, and the raven's face was submerged in Shiloh's soft, candy hair. Eventually, the taller of the two slowly came to. He looked up to the window, and then back down to what he had just brought his face up from. When he saw it was Shiloh though, his emerald eyes widened slowly and in one swift movement, he rolled out of the bed.
"No... no no no no no. Fuck... why did I..." he whispered, slowly crawling away from the bed.
Of course, the whore thought he had sex with Shiloh the previous night, but didn't notice that he was still dressed i
Black Rabbit - fourteenThe thing he remembered most about her was her long blonde locks of hair that draped down her back and sat propped upon her shoulders. The way it caught the rays of sunrise, glowing with an almost pink hue against the morning lights and long shadows. He could remember how much his father loved her hair and nearly cried when she had cut it to her shoulders, it used to be longer at one point- but those memories were fuzzy now. The recollection of his father twisting the ringlets of gold in his fingers as he held her in an embrace, whispering little sweet nothings into her ear before he’d go off to work and leave her with the baby.
He could also remember her eyes vividly; he could never let those gems slip from his memory for they were also his eyes- light blues with a dark blue splotch circling the iris. They were like staring into a swirling pool of sky coloured acrylic paints; The way that they lit up once meeting her sweet little butterscotch haired baby who gree
Black Rabbit - Part four"Out! Everyone out!" Casey yelled from the top of the stairs. He was absolutely pissed at himself. This whole thing was a stupid idea. Not only did he jeopardize his best and only friendship, but Shiloh's house was absolutely trashed. Of course, no one could really hear him over the music, so the teen had to use force. He roughly pushed people out of the way of the stereo, and abruptly turned it off. "I SAID EVERYONE FUCKING OUT. NOW." he screamed.
With grunts and complaints, most of the teenagers left, but Casey then had to go upstairs and chase some kids out of bedrooms and bathrooms. Once the house was completely empty except for Shiloh and himself, Casey let himself fall on the couch. He was riddled with regret and guilt, and the dark thoughts began to creep back into his mind. He wanted to die for what he did to Shiloh, even though he had done much worse before. "I can't believe I did that to Shiloh. MY Shiloh." Casey muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes. But it took him a second
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
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