The ongoing story that I’m writing into this blog is actually the main portion of the Fantasy of War, something that happens a very long time after this first chapter I’m talking about in the previous post. Fantasy of War as with some good storylines is developed and imagined in reverse, with the ending coming
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(This is a rant about The Story. If you didn’t like it then, you aren’t going to like this rant either. Feel free to skip.) After a while, I went back and reread my stories, and then I realised how childish they were. Despite me having planned massive story arcs, backstory and technological advances and
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The room was familiar. He remembered the bed, the white sheet, even the bedside cabinet. He knew where he was. He knew it was somewhere safe. He reached out to the bedside table for something. Something was supposed to be there. He couldn’t find it. Despite being in a familiar room, it felt disjointed to
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