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Chapter 1 A City of DreamsChapter 1 A City of Dreams
-as Matt is on the plane, flying to Mitakihara, he listens to a voice recording that was sent to him-
Sayaka: -recording- hey Matt, it’s me Sayaka. I’m really happy that you are coming to Mitakihara. Anyway, once you do come over on December 27, please meet me near the entrance of Terminal 1. I will be there in a rental car, a red Honda Fit. Please be sure to check the terminal for the car, okay? Anyway, see you later cousin! I hope to see you there! And please, I hope you enjoy living in the city! -recording ends-
Matt: oh trust me, cus. I really am going to have one hell of a time here at Mitakihara -the plane arrives at the Mitakihara Internation Airport, landing on the runway. After a while, Matt gets through customs and reaches the terminal; Sayaka is seen holding a sign that says マット川崎 (Matt Kawasaki)- hey! -waves at Sayaka-
Sayaka: hey Matt! -she runs to him and hugs him tightly- it’s been a while!
Chapter 1: DEAD RISINGChapter 1: Dead Rising
-Several school busses are driving into the Tokonosu City area; it appears that there is a field trip from the US School of Kinnick-
Matt: -looks out the window, aimlessly, watching as school boys and girls in Fujimi Academy uniforms go by- I wonder about them…
Jeff: About who?
Matt: Them -points towards the Fujimi high school kids- I wonder how their lives are.
Jeff: I don’t know, probably just as “fun” as life over at our school.
Matt: Yeah, right. -looks out the window more, the bus finally stops in front of the museum- thank god the bus stopped. I was getting REALLY bored just watching nothing but the cars and people go by.
Jeff: I bet -pushes him in the shoulder- Just relax a bit from doing class work and enjoy the fact that we get to go somewhere. After all, with all of the problems in the funding, we are at least lucky that we can go somewhere every once in a while.
Matt: Good point… -looks at the entrance of the museum and
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More