Bradbury Heights: III – Mayoral Assertions

Sheriff Humboldt, meandering afoot a stairy slope, pondering the quirking scenes of earlier this morn, could not quite keep down the strange sensation of a lurking discontinuity that accompanied him wherewithever he walked. Entering the doorway atop the stairs and depositing his satchel alongst a stiff wooden chair, the Sheriff grimaced at the sight of his turbulent troop, depleted of the sentiment of sanctuary proffered by the formerly uneventful duties that squired doldrum Bradbury Heights.

The Memoirs of Colonel Octavian Van Haslinger

GTI 43:89 – 832.3 Sector Alpha 435B; Skirmish with the Faun

‘Twas Brillig alright. When a sun-star ignites like a firepop set off by a twelve year old guinea at the Freedom Parade and you’re standing on the doorstep of a fiery inferno that will spontaneously cook eggs from over 30 parsec away then there’s not much you can do but duck and cover.  As for the Faun, they were expecting this. Their trap sprung, and all of their twelve Satyr Class battlecruisers with full power on their shields such that Zeus’ own lightning couldn’t get through. As for us, well, we weren’t so prepared.

Bradbury Heights: II - Froward Information

Spelunking didn’t quite hardly compare to such frolipherous activity as ‘twas currently engaged one Bartholomew Flavius Hughes. Whilst o’er ‘twix ‘tween a rock and a hard place, while certainly, in such literal context, was exceedingly enjoyable, Bartholomew procured a particular gleam for his present circumsituation. In the one hand he held an aluminum cylinder, ten inches long, green, with a spray nozzle affixt to its end. And in the other, a bottle of equal stature, yet blue as the midsummer sky which would soon grace pristine Bradbury Heights in nary two months.

Bradbury Heights: I - A Tragic Discovery

Drizzle-pouring rain, a flock of tears from heaven's font, one last stretch of icy breath. Yesterday t'was such an sunlit day yet ere this morn all warmth went out in a snuff. Harriet Bowman pludged along the mud slipped path up towards the steeple of Chapel Hill. Father Fleischer would expect the strindgy pews dusted and swept a'fore this even's vigil wenx all the town (at least the more piously natured fellows and madams) would gather to witness the surgical sermon swiftly surmising sin and shame, which the Father would deliver precisely to all and none.

Quagzor Chapter 17

Where off we have ‘ere reached along spot in the time line of events that demand a summation of previous passages and interweaving sutures of plot twists that mayhap the lay-reader has lost his merry way down the path towards comprehension. Thusly, it is most behooving to us to informate you of the State of the Quagzor in this story-to-date address.