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  1. Harsov the Harsh {Chapter Fourteen}

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  3. Ernie Barnes.

  4. Notes on Harsov

  5. That Connection


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The Stone Throwers:
A Man-Hunt For Vietnam War Draft Evaders


Phoenix envy: there was there were 1986, ultimate

A woman leaves a five million dollar car wearing the element of sin, outside, a endeavoring concretion to the garments worn: everything within is sin. The doors are shut upon opportunities, the turning of gears, igniting the throttle. The revving of the engine: without any racing, music resonates! A city is spontaneous created: wavering infinite amount of feet! Within the background, the sea gathers Ascension for it's inauguration as corporeal: for which civilization's dispute rises, the woman rises, transformed anion upon a ancient ninja. For which is sin, which is the debacle of sin. Sin cavers the woman to depart combinating simeous to a designation ridden within the sacred sanity of volcanoes, striding amongst the supercar once again: the key is rearranged, coalitioning the engine to ignite blazing the turbines: pressing xenion transmission backwards, the acceleration is lenient. Reversing the automobile, acknowledging the city to lower: within in a wide view, the premise is vacated.

Fire breeches upon the cape, singing splendid light upon the devastation of eterium without the acknowledgement: without beyond the consciousness baring vitality, without beyond the sun, without beyond the dawn, raising a tempest blaze rising. Music hear me speak, my movements are simeous: fluttering cherry blossoms, aeronautical sun between life and death. The violet sets the sun instead of the horn, rise upon the sun: fall shall not whither, tempest against the wind.

Fire bequeathed everything around, a torch of a candle is bound me: telling me darkness is around my heart. My salvation is ultimate, upon a perspective: there's a differentiating core. Somewhere in my heart, there are boundaries polarizing the sequency of the human heart: for which something around a clock determinating that I'm not a man, something so dark. How could something be so, beneath me: how could I rise to see the supreme goddess's eyes?

The names ultimate!

There was there were: 1986 was a short story submitted into a year 1989 short story children's contest. A 1000 page book was always rumored to have been on the book black market, laughing or am....deux ex machina...Omega infinity!



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