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TOWER OF THE ORACLE

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FACE THE ORACLE! Take up the blade of the Nameless Knight and ascend Hela's Castle in pursuit of she who wreaths destruction: The Oracle!   With fearsome combat and plenty of exploration, it's an experience sure to make you feel like a real adventurer.   But watch out! The Oracle has powerful foes and devoted allies, who will stop at nothing to defeat you! Fear the Siren's call, or find yourself plummeting back to the base of the mountain! With a variety of weapons, from great-swords, to axes, to bows, to spells, you will have to do everything in your power to stand your ground against the many terrifying enemies you may face!   Take your best shot, and see if you can strike town the Destructive Phoenix, or test the goodness of your heart before the Fallen Angel! All this and more, coming to a game store near you! - Jupiter Studios, 2007  (Warnings: Any relation to real persons, past or present, is purely coincidence. No real locations, architecture, artworks, or dem...

Gloveless

  I’d never been asked why I wear them, before. I just assumed everyone did. It came up because I flinched. She squeezed my hand and it hurt. The first few times I just assumed this is what it was like for everyone, but after enough occasions I found myself asking her how she could do that when it hurts so much. She asked what I meant, and I pointed to her gloves. * * * * * * * * My gloves were hand-me-downs, you see. The kind my mother wore when she was my age. I was resistant to wearing them, of course. Every kid is hesitant to take things they don’t understand and don’t like, but I didn’t know then what an honor they are to have, to be gifted. Eventually I was convinced and began to wear them both to school and around the house. I told my Mom they itched but she brushed me off, saying she knew: She’d complained about the same when she was my age. But she got used to them, so I would too. * * * * * * * * My friend looked down at her own gloved hand in confusion....

Eyes In The Snow

  The wheels of the locomotive clicked against the rails, thk-thk, thk-thk, along the tracks as the popular boxcar rattled its way down the path, snowy trees hiding the horizon, making the world feel like it was but a single lane of foliage in an empty, dim-skied world.             “That sound ain’t real, you know.”             Rupert looked back, annoyed. “The hell ya talkin’ about now, Ernie?”             “The clack of the rails.”             Lauren gave them both a confused look. “How- What do you mean it isn’t real?”             “I mean , that noise was a byproduct of rails being assembled in multiple pieces back in the day.”             Ru...